Retief picked up his suitcase and walked away toward the glare sign reading To Gates 16-30.
"Another smart alec," the clerk said behind him.
Retief followed the signs, threaded his way through crowds, found a covered ramp with the number 228 posted over it. A heavy-shouldered man with a scarred jawline and small eyes was slouching there in a rumpled gray uniform. He put out a hand as Retief started past him.
"Lessee your boarding pass," he muttered.
Retief pulled a paper from an inside pocket, handed it over.
The guard blinked at it.
"Whassat?"
"A gram confirming my space," Retief said. "Your boy on the counter says he's out to lunch."
The guard crumpled the gram, dropped it on the floor and lounged back against the handrail.