“I put in a requisition myself, yesterday. Wine from Cluster II, vintage ’86. I was hoping for some company.”
She smiled. “All right.”
Manning was ending the session. “…Carl, be sure to get those studies of the Outsiders artifacts together for me by tonight. And I’m going to hand back your reports to each of the rest of you; go through them and watch for those inconsistencies you skipped over the first time. We may be able to turn up something else that doesn’t check out. Go over them carefully—all the reports were sloppy jobs. You’re all trying to work too fast.”
Rynason rose with the rest of them, grinning as he remembered how Manning had rushed those reports. Well, that was one of the privileges of authority: delegating fault. He started for the door.
“Lee! Hold it a minute; I want to talk to you, alone.”
Rynason sat, and when all the others had gone Manning came back and sat down opposite him. He slowly took out a cigaret and lit it.
“My last pack till the next spacer makes touchdown,” he said. “Sorry I can’t offer you one, but I’m a fiend for the things. I know they’re supposed to be non-habit-forming these days, but I’m a man of many vices.”
Rynason shrugged, waiting for him to come to the point.
“I guess it makes me a bit more open-minded about what the members of my staff do,” Manning went on. “You know—why should I crack down on drinking or smoking, for instance, when I do it myself?”
“I’m glad you see it that way,” Rynason said drily. “Why did you want me to stay?”