"Ah, sir?" The gruff voice came from behind me. I turned to see a short, heavy man, balding, with bags under his eyes. He was dressed as if he had come out of the nearby bowling alley.

"Yes."

"Name's Theodore Armand. I'm from the Omega Society. They tell me you'll be my pilot today."

"Yes, that's correct." I looked around the lobby for some other sign that this was the right guy. The receptionist nodded and grinned at me. I looked more closely at Mr. Armand. There wasn't a trace of solemnity in his expression.

"Well?" he said.

"Uh, yes, uh, is there anyone else we're waiting for?"

"Not me. What about you?"

"Uh, no sir." After a moment, "Well, is there anything else we need?" I was trying to locate some dead people at this point.

"Just an airplane."

"OK, right out here. It's the blue and white one right in front."

"Good, a 172. That's the best kind for this. I'll go out to my car, get our friends and I'll be right back. They're in the trunk."

Friends. In the trunk. "As good a place as any," I said. "I'll meet you at the plane."

I walked outside a bit more relaxed. At least I wasn't dealing with some guy in a tuxedo, or a screaming widow or distraught daughters. Maybe he kept those people quiet by keeping them in the trunk. Out at the plane I opened the passenger door and waited.