"Alpha-zeta erasure isn't anything new. It's been done in the psych labs for a hundred years or more.
"And that's where the only really interesting angle on all this comes in: In the labs, the job took a roomful of equipment. So to get the process down to thrill-mill size, whoever manufactured these Apex gadgets used special thronium condenser strata and variocouplers.
"That automatically pushes the cost per thrill-mill up to twice or three times what you'd ordinarily pay for a grav-car."
I got up, then, taking my time about it ... letting the silence grow heavy while I came around the pond-sized desk and moved to a spot directly in front of Gaylord.
"Controller," I said softly, "who do you know who can afford to give away 737 thrill-mills at that kind of price?"
A shrugging, a shifting, more hostile than uneasy. "No one, I guess. At least, no one I've ever heard of." He still sounded sullen.
"That's right," I agreed. "No one. It would dent FedGov Security's confidential budget to bury an expense that big. Kruze himself couldn't handle it; not without a lot of doing."
Again, Gaylord shifted. But this time, nervous tension rather than belligerence was in the action. As earlier, perplexity furrowed his forehead.
I said, "Now you know why I'm not going to waste time scanning file-reels, Controller. The data we need's already in. Intelligent interpretation is the next step.—That, and"—I paused, ever so briefly—"working up the nerve to act."