"I could scarcely help knowing something about the biggest uranium works on Earth. However, I am not well enough qualified in detail to make a good technical executive."
"Nor is it necessary. Our thought is to make you a key man in a new and increasingly important branch of the business, known as Department Q. It is concerned neither with production nor with uranium."
"Q as in 'quiet', eh? I'm listening with both ears. What duties would be connected with this ... er ... position? What would I really do?"
Two pairs of hard eyes locked and held, staring yieldlessly into each other's depths.
"You would not be unduly surprised to learn that substances other than uranium occasionally reach Northport?"
"Not too surprised, no," Olmstead replied dryly. "What would I do with it?"
"We need not go into that here or now. I offer you the position."
"I accept it."
"Very well. I will take you to Northport, and we will continue our talk en route."
And in a spy-ray-proof, sound-proof compartment of a Spaceways-owned stratoliner they did so.