Then Adams laughed. The laughter ended abruptly when Mark quickly had a fistful of Adam's shirt, drawing the man to him withing inches of his face.

"The gym - half an hour from now. You aren't worth me missing lunch over."

Adams tried - unsuccessfully - to jerk away from Mark's grip. Then he shifted to another tactic.

"I'm senior to you, Slate. You can't order me to do anything,"

The cool voice of Napoleon Solo came from behind Adams.

"No, but I certainly can. Half an hour, Mister Adams. I plan to watch this ... martial arts exhibition."