A few minutes after they had made their routine check-in, Vicki said good-by to her fellow crew members and strolled leisurely in the direction of the big warehouse building.
A heavy-set man lounged in the warehouse doorway, holding a half-consumed bottle of coke in his hand. He looked quizzically at Vicki as she approached.
“Can you please tell me where I can find the foreman?” Vicki asked politely.
“You’re talkin’ to him,” the man said. His square-cut face was expressionless, neither friendly nor unfriendly.
“I’d like to see Joey Watson for a minute. Is he on duty this afternoon?”
“Yep. You a friend of his?”
Vicki put on her prettiest smile. “Well, sort of,” she said. “I haven’t seen him for some time, and if I may, I’d like to say hello.”
“Just a second,” the foreman said. “I’ll go get him.” He turned and disappeared into the huge building.
Vicki looked in through the open door. Piles of boxes, cartons, and bulky sacks stood stacked like islands on the big expanse of floor. Cargo handlers were busy sorting these, loading some on small motor carts and unloading others that had just been taken off incoming planes. Backed up at a long platform that ran the length of the opposite side of the building were half a dozen trucks waiting to pick up the cargo for local delivery. Other workmen weighed outgoing boxes and bales, and nailed cartons up more securely. The whole place had an air of quiet efficiency.
A tall, young figure dashed out of the dimness of the big room and ran up to Vicki, a big smile spread all across his eager face.