This time it was a dwarf in a flak jacket who was forcing his way into the room. Nut-brown, grim-faced, he too was looking around for Serrin. Even more startling was that the dwarf was obviously Indian. By now, though, it wasn’t the dwarf Serrin was seeing anymore. It was the girl slumped in the doorway, beginning to shake violently and still holding the pistol limply from her right hand.