"Please, Norris! This is urgent. That woman will lose her mind completely if—"
"All right, I'll call my wife and tell her to open the pound for you. Pick out the K-48 and sign for it. And listen—"
"Yes?"
"Don't let me catch you falsifying a serial number."
Doctor Georges laughed faintly. "I won't, Norris. Thanks a million." He hung up quickly.
Norris immediately regretted his consent. It bordered on being illegal. But he saw it as a quick way to get rid of an animal that might later have to be killed.
He called Anne. Her voice was dull. She seemed depressed, but not angry. When he finished talking, she said, "All right, Terry," and hung up.
By noon, he had finished checking the shipping lists at the wholesale house in Wylo City. Only thirty-five of July's Bermuda-K-99s had entered his territory, and they were about equally divided among five pet shops, three of which were in Wylo City.
After lunch, he called each of the retail dealers, read them the serial numbers, and asked them to check the sales records for names and addresses of individual buyers. By three o'clock, he had the entire list filled out, and the task began to look easier. All that remained was to pick up the thirty-five animals.