"About that. Sometimes we have to order equipment of one kind or another in a hurry, and we can usually expedite matters if we can promise cash. You know how it is."
Sergeant Ketzel nodded sourly. He evidently knew only too well how it was. Even the most respectable businessmen were doing occasional business with the black market in technological devices. But he didn't say anything to Bending.
"What did the cash box look like?" he asked.
Bending held out his hands to measure off a distance. "About so long—ten inches, I guess; maybe six inches wide and four deep. Thin sheet steel, with a gray crackle finish. There was a lock on it, but it wasn't much of one; since it was kept in the safe, there was no need for a strong lock."
Sergeant Ketzel nodded. "In other words, an ordinary office cash box. No distinguishing marks at all?"
"It had 'Bending Consultants' on the top. And underneath that, the word 'Lab'. In black paint. That 'Lab' was to distinguish it from the petty cash box in the main office."
"I see. Do you know anything about the denominations of the bills? Were they marked in any way?"
Bending frowned. "I don't know. You'd have to ask Luckman about that, too."
"Where is he now?"
"Home, I imagine. He isn't due to report for work until ten."