And now I had yet another grudge against this blasted spy. Which reminded me again of Linda. From the looks of things, I wasn't ever going to get to her place. By now she was probably in mourning for me and might even have the Sanitation Staff searching for my remains.
As I made the chico, he asked me questions. My name first, and then, "What do you do for a living?"
I thought fast. "I'm an ore-sled dispatcher," I said. That was a lie, of course, but I'd heard enough about ore-sled dispatching from Linda to be able to maintain the fiction should he question me further about it.
Actually, I was a gymnast instructor. The subjects I taught included wrestling, judo and karati—talents I would prefer to disclose to him in my own fashion, when the time came.
He was quiet for a moment. "What about radiation level on the ore-sleds?"
I had no idea what he was talking about, and admitted as much.
"When they come back," he said. "How much radiation do they pick up? Don't you people ever test them?"
"Of course not," I told him. I was on secure ground now, with Linda's information to guide me. "All radiation is cleared from the sleds and their cargo before they're brought into the building."
"I know that," he said impatiently. "But don't you ever check them before de-radiating them?"