At the end was another door. It was solid.
Zip approached the door and paused. He turned his head to the other
two, lifted his eyebrows and shrugged. Mark and Joe nodded. Zip
knocked. The door was opened almost immediately.
A good-looking, clean-shaven man with dark brown wavy hair looked them
over once quickly, then stepped aside. "Come in," he said, waving a
hand while the other held the door. "I'm Montezuma Vly." He had
powerful hands, obviously used to hard labor. His nails had grit under
them. Strong as the hands were, they were also clearly the hands of an
artist, capable of fine work. He shook hands with the Starmen as they
entered.
"Wow!" said Joe, the last to enter. Vly shut the door. The three
Starmen gazed about them. They were standing in a small room packed
with machinery-old-fashioned machinery used for rock cutting, polishing
stones, and mounting specimens. The heady smell of machine oil hung in
the air, not heavy like that of an aircraft hangar but attractive and
energizing, almost like a perfume.
The machinery was made of cast iron, with wheels and gears, rods and
chains visible inside the cases. Mark noted that each machine looked
lovingly maintained. The newest machine must have been at least fifty
years old, but all were in top quality condition.
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