Up and into it, then, to find Lowbeer seated in the chair pit, fingers steepled, elbows on the tray-sized mahogany table, on which were two white china mugs, cream, sugar, and a cylindrical black carafe. The car’s windows, or rather the cam systems that emulated them, showed vehicular traffic to one side, pedestrian to the other. "Good morning," she said, as he heard the door close behind him. "Coffee?"