There was a quick flick of the attorney's eyes, but his face didn't change. "Personalities don't matter, Doug."
Doug waited for it. Behind the nonchalance, the employer-to-faithful-but-errant-employee tone, there was something of hard spring steel, coiled, waiting to be sprung.
"I'm not sure I like your tone," Doug bluffed. "I have some degree of position you know—"
"Yes, I know—you seldom let anybody forget it. I understand you've even reminded the Director on occasion...."
Doug shrugged. "Suppose we get down to it. Just what is there this time that has the DO so upset?"
The Attorney stiffened visibly. "What is there? You mean you don't realize that you've come about as close as anyone can come to committing a capital heresy? Did you actually suppose you could order a thing like that without a triple-endorsed Science Council reference? You know as well as I do how strict the law is about possession of restricted equipment of any kind by anyone except members of the Science Council itself. Even the Director has to go through channels! Where d'you think we'd be, anyway, if just anybody and everybody could read any books, tinker with any kind of paraphernalia they wanted to? Damn it, man, if every Tom, Dick and Harry went fooling around with the knowledge that wasn't food for them the whole damn planet would be in the S-chambers!"
"What do you mean, restricted—?"
"And we can't have any exceptions! Except, that is, for the special training such as picked men as yourself received at the Quadrature Academy. But when it comes to personal possession of restricted stuff, without the required reference, you might just as well be caught with a copy of Freud in your library!"
The pack. That had to be what he meant—he'd been phoning for the pack, and they'd asked for a reference.... Somehow, he had to—the catalogue! The closely printed lines that got tangled up because he couldn't hold it steady!