He closed the folder and handed it back to the clerk.
"All right, that's all I need." He glanced at the clock.
"Guess I'll check out for lunch."
He walked out of the office. This one, he thought, could be broken wide open by a Guard investigation. Sornal would get his freedom, and there might be sizable damages.
"Now it would be nice," Stan muttered, "if I could work out something for myself."
The Guard sergeant was an old-timer—and a methodical man. He listened impassively, then reached under his desk. For a few seconds, his hand was hidden, then he picked up a pen.
"Now, let's get this straight. What did you say your name was?"
"Graham. Stanley Graham. I—"
The sergeant had pulled a form to him. He bent over, writing slowly.