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and this is Margaret Quilliam. We're here for a car, I think."

"We're here for a taxi," said Meg firmly. "If you could call us one, please, Mr. Mendoza, I would appreciate it very, very much."

"They just call me Luis here." He grinned. "And Mrs. Taylor's car is a very fine one. I doubt that you'd need a taxi."

"We need a taxi," Meg said.

What kind of a car is it?" Quill asked.

"A Mercedes. The small one. The one Senora Taylor doesn't like."

"A Mercedes?" Meg said. "She doesn't like a Mercedes?"

"The color," said Luis expressionlessly. "It's black. Where are you going?"

"The Florida Institute for Fine Food," Quill said. "The address?"

"Ummm..." Quill referred to the paper. "One Sea View Drive."

"Ah. One moment, please." He vanished inside his office, leaving the door open. Quill and Meg followed him in. The office was small, but efficiently furnished. A row of metal filing cabinets stood against one wall. Long benches ran the length of another. PCs, laptops, desktops, and printers lay in various stages of assembly on the benches.

Luis's desk was in the center of the room. There was a sleek IBM computer, printer, and external hard drive on it, and nothing else. He sat down and key-stroked rapidly. Quill, who was a little afraid of computers, admired his apparent expertise. The printer began to hum and spit out a colored map.

"Here you are," Luis said. "I just bought Find It! software. Amazing, isn't it? Tells you the quickest way to get to the institute."

"Thank you," Quill said. She took it. The instructions were different from those on the memo from New York.

"Now, if you'd like to wait just a minute, I'll bring the Mercedes around for you."

"A Mercedes," said Meg again. "Good grief."

"There, you see?" Quill smiled with what she hoped was a lot of confidence. They walked out of the office together and back into the sunshine. "One of the best cars ever if you have to be in an accident... not," she added hastily, "that there's going to be an accident. Look, Meg. Here's Luis's map. We take a left out of the parking lot, go to the light, and straight on through to Forty-fifth Street. We take a right on Forty-fifth, go down six blocks, and take a left again into the institute. Left-right-left. What could be simpler?" She reexamined the map from New York. "Even simpler than that is Interstate 95. That'll get us there in ten minutes."

"With you driving, quantum physics could be simpler."

"Oh, ha." She clutched Meg's arm. Luis drove a small sports car out of the garage and pulled up in front of them. "Oh, Meg. The car!"

"What about it? It's black. It's dinky..."

"It's a 380 SE! And it's incredible! Meg, please. No taxi. I've always wanted to drive one of these." She grinned happily at Luis, who grinned back. He got out of the car and handed her the keys.

Meg shook her head. "You? And a Mercedes? You're kidding."

"I am not kidding. You remember when I was driving a cab in New York?"

"There are a lot of traffic police who remember you driving a cab in New York."

"Well, one thing that experience taught me is to appreciate fine machinery. This is one of the best-made cars in the world."

"You've been my sister for how long?"

"Too long."

"And still you constantly surprise me. Okay. No cab. But if I'm late to this meeting, Quill, you're dead. And if we crash, you're even deader." She rolled her eyes at Luis, who made a sympathetic clicking sound. "Tell us to go with God, or something." She tossed her tote bag into the boot and slid into the passenger seat. Quill opened the driver's side door, slid in, and sat down with a feeling of awe.

"May you go with God," Luis responded in an accommodating way. He leaned over the door. "And watch out for the traffic on Broadway. It's a killer."

"The freeway looks faster," Quill said. Luis looked alarmed. "I don't think..."

"This car's got an automatic shift," Quill said. "Darn it. Watch out for the what?" She moved into reverse. Luis leaped out of the way. She put her foot