Felix stood. "John…" He eyed me sharply. "What you've turned up calls for special measures. We can't take chances now-not until we know what it is we're up against. I'm going to let you in on a secret I've sworn to protect with my life."

He led me to a back room, moved a picture, pressed unmarked spots on the wall. A trap slid back in the floor.

"This is the Hole," he said. "Even the CBI doesn't know about it. We'll be sure of avoiding interruption there."

"Felix-who do you work for?"

He held up the severed ear. "Suffice it to say-I'm against the owner of this."

I nodded. "I'll settle for that."

Three hours later, Felix switched off the light in the laboratory and led me into a comfortable lounge room with teak paneling, deep chairs, a businesslike bar, and wide pseudowindows with a view of a moonlit garden, which helped to dispel the oppressive feeling of being two hundred feet down. I sat in one of the chairs and looked around me.

"Felix, who built this place? Somehow, this doesn't look like a government-furnished installation to me. You've got equipment in that lab that's ahead of anything I've seen. And you're not as surprised at what I've told you as you ought to be."

He leaned over and slapped me on the knee, grinning his Mephistophelean grin. "Buck up, Johnny. I sent you out to find an explanation of something. You've found it-with bells on. If it takes a few devil-dogs from Mars to tie it all together, that's not your fault."

"What the hell did I stumble into last night?"

He finished mixing drinks, sat down across from me, rubbing the side of his jaw. The air-conditioners made a faint hum in the background.

"It's the damnedest tissue I've ever examined. Almost a crystalline structure. And the hairs! There are metallic fibers in them; incredibly tough. The fluid was a regular witches' brew; plenty of cyanoglobin present." He paused. "Something out of this world, to coin a phrase."