"You're a stinker, Ash."
"To hell with you," said Sutton. "You and all the rest of them."
Trevor's men, he knew, must be around the house, watching and waiting. He expected to be stopped. But he wasn't stopped. He didn't see a soul.
XLVIII
Sutton stepped into the visor booth and closed the door behind him. From the rack along the wall, he took out the directory and hunted up the number. He dialed and snapped the toggle and there was a robot in the screen.
"Information," said the robot, his eyes seeking out the forehead of the man who called. Since it was an android, he dropped the customary "sir."
"Information. Records. What can I do for you?"
"Is there any possibility," asked Sutton, "that this call could be tapped?"
"None," said the robot. "Absolutely none. You see…"
"I want to see the homestead filings for the year 7990," said Sutton.