A moment passes. Something inside the door clangs. An Asian man smelling of 
fish and wearing a stained white apron pushes the door open and looks at Tikki, 
first frowning as if annoyed, then going wide-eyed, and with good reason. The 
muzzle of her Kang automatic is right in his face. She has goaded him into 
error, just as planned. Only three nights ago she saw a Red Bullet patrol stop 
here for a quick bite to eat. Bang, shout, and the door opens.