"Yeah, it's sure hot. We'd go mostly naked, except the actinic's really fierce. Be sure to wear a hat all the time outdoors, and light gloves. If your eyes start to smart, wear dark goggles."
"Thanks for the tips, Chum, I appreciate 'em. I'd begun to notice skin itching, but thought it might be this jungle."
They broke through the final wall of foliage and Hanlon saw a large cleared space ahead that must have been roughly a half-mile across. There were quite a number of buildings, mostly windowless, and he decided they were storehouses.
"There's the messhall," his new-found friend pointed.
They went on to another long, low, bungalow-type building, inside which Hanlon saw a long hall from which opened dozens of doors on either side. The other men disappeared into one or another of the rooms, and the young fellow stopped at another door. "Grab the first room that has a key in the lock outside," he said. "They're all alike."
The SS man found one, with the number "17" on the door, and went in. The room was small but comfortably furnished. The bed had a good mattress, he found, and white linen sheets and a thin, fleecy blanket folded on the foot. There was a big easy chair, a closet for his clothes and a dresser with four drawers. Glo-lights were set in the ceiling, and there was another on a standard by the big chair for easy reading. A door opened into another room which proved to be a compact toilet and shower. Everything was immaculately clean, and the air was cooled and sweet from air-conditioning.
"Not bad, not bad at all," Hanlon said half-aloud as he unpacked and stored his things. Then he took a shower. "Man, are you going to get plenty of work-outs, in this heat," he apostrophised the shower, thankfully. Dressing again, he went out to locate Peter Philander, his new boss.
He stopped at the messhall, and there he found the cook, a jolly, roly-poly sort of man. He introduced himself and they chatted for a few minutes.
"I'm going to like this guy—hope they're all as nice and friendly," Hanlon thought. "Where's the super's office?" he asked, and the cook pointed it out.
Entering the office-shack, Hanlon found himself in a fairly large room with a number of desks and several drafting boards with blue-prints and drawings pinned on them. Behind one of the larger desks was a heavy-set man with a great, angry scar across his left cheek and neck, running from the bridge of the nose to below the ear.