Turner will give you orders.
Get a move on." I lowered Suliman's head gently from my knee on to a nice comfortable corner of the stone gutter, and went up-street to interview the Sikhs.

It was rather like a New York Customs inspection, after your cabin steward has not been heavily enough tipped, and has tipped off the men in blue by way of distributing the discontent.

I showed them the safe-pass Grim had scribbled.
They accepted that as dubious preliminary evidence of my right to be alive, but no more.

I was searched painstakingly and ignominiously for weapons.

No questions asked.