In the Cellar Larry Niven Produced by calibre 0.6.40 IN THE CELLAR by Larry Niven Mr. Niven tells us that he never can predict when the urge will strike to turn out one of theselittle pieces. When it does and he does were always happy to use them. The man in the folding chair was the only one in the room as far as I could tell withoutmoving my head. He had a round pink face and a pink scalp that showed through thin blond hairand blue eyes. He wouldnt take his eyes off me. The .44 in his lap looked too big for him. I couldnt move my head or grimace with the pain in my arms or open my eyes more than a slit.He thought I was still out cold. I wanted to keep it that way. I needed time to figure thisout. The guard bothered me. He was too soft to be just muscle and too patient. He didntsmoke he didnt walk around he didnt twitch. He just watched me. My feet swung six inches above the dirt floor. I seemed to. be hanging by my wrists. The wallswere rough stone. Behind the seated man was a big wooden door with an iron bar across it. Theair was cool and damp with an underground feel. No windows. I must have twitched. He smiled and spoke in a voice I knew. Awake Mr. Stone Your skull musthave incredible tensile strength. I suppose thats natural enough in your profession. You allseem to have that trait.His voice was too big for him like the gun. A resonant commanding voice. Id heard it once onthe telephone. The Lynx: the faceless mastermind of an international criminal organizationcentered in Phoenix Arizona. The Lynx had gotten me first. I looked up. It wasnt good. There were manacles welded around my wrists. Steel chains linkedthem to bolt plates in the stone ceiling. Moose hit you with a crowbar the Lynx said. I thought hed crushed your skull. . . . Wellit wont help you. Youve impinged on my activities once too often. Three times so far. Keep him talking play for time. I wondered if hed shoot. He didnt looklike hed