'Well, it's up to you whether you call the civilian police or not.  Personally…well, personally I don't know if I would.  But do call company Security and let them know.'

'What can zhey do?'

'Nothing, I guess.  But you'd better let them know.  And call the company credit-card hot-line.  It's twenty-four hours.  You on platinum?'

'Gold twenty-four.'

'Well, if they give you any shit, tell them you're calling on my authority.  They might be able to find you a dentist who can do something.'

'What, half a moushful of teesh before ten a.m?'

'Is that when the flight is?'

'That'sh check-in time.'

'You on scheduled?'

'Yesh.'

'Could we find you some more time by sending you on a company jet?'

'Been dishcushed before all zhis happened.  Too many fuel shtopsh or shomeshing.'

'How long after you arrive are you supposed to meet Shinizagi?'

'About four hoursh.'

'Hmm.  Mike?'

'What?'

'Exactly which teeth were removed?'

'Eh?  Well, I don't know!  I mean I don't know what zhare all called.  One of my front teeth…molarsh…left wishdom…jusht about half of zhem.  Looksh random.  Can't shee a pattern or anything.  Disherent on top and bottom, disherent on each. shide…Well?'

'Well what?'

'Any ideash?'

'I've told you: call the hot-line.  And call Adrian; Adrian George.  You should have called him in the first place.  I'm on sabbatical, remember?'

'I know you're on fucking shabbatical!  I'm shorry I dishturbed your beauty shleep, too, but I shtupidly shought you might be able to help me.'

'I am helping you.  I'm telling you to call Security, the company credit-card hot-line and Adrian.  So do so.  But, whatever happens, you have to make that flight.'

'But I can't go like zhish!'

'Stop wailing.'