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Page 119
ness here. She wished she understood its source, but all she could think of was that it involved the tense, angry man beside her. But what danger might lurk in these dignified surroundings?
Mike's office was in a building along a large thoroughfare called Wilshire Boulevard. He directed the Bronco into an opening beneath the building and stopped. From a pile of clothing on the seat behind him, he took a necktie, similar to ones Abby had seen in shops in Barstow. She felt sorry to see him button the top of his shirt, for the hint of chest was no longer visible. He put the band of material about his neck, tying a deft knot without benefit of a looking glass. Then he turned to draw from the stack a jacket that he also put on. Running fingers through his long and thick brown hair as though to comb it, he instead tousled it winsomely.
Giving his key to an attendant, he led Abby to a row of doors. The odor in the air here was even worse than in Pasadena. When Mike pushed a small card into a slot, one door opened into a tiny room. Abby felt terribly confined when the door closed behind themparticularly when Mike pushed a button marked 12 and the room began to move!
Abby had promised herself not to react to anything new in this timenot while with Mike, at leastbut could not help clutching in terror at the wall of the moving room.
"You should have told me you get claustrophobic in an elevator." He sounded exasperated.
"An . . . elevator?" Elevate, Abby thought. That

 
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