"Good. So now you need a doctor to drug the ones who need it, a
psychologist to decide who gets what, one machine moved and one
technician." Bennington snapped on his intercom, said to his
secretary, "Get Judkins in here."
"Yes, _sir_!"
_The word seems to be getting around_, Bennington decided, _but this
will take a moment_.
* * * * *
He started on his next problem. "Have you ever inspected the prison
grounds at night?"
"No, sir! That is Slater's duty!"
Thornberry was again the proper bureaucrat, horrified at the thought
of invading another's domain.
"Judkins here," came from the intercom.
"Bennington speaking. You know the corridor between the reception and
interview rooms in The Cage?"
"Yes, sir."
"Get your equipment over close to there. We have a group of prisoners
arriving around 1530, too late for complete processing. But at least
you can condition them against escape."
The intercom was silent a moment, then, "But how will I know who I'm
working on?"
Bennington questioned Thornberry with a raised eyebrow.
The psych-expert shook his head, no.
"This time you don't need to know," Bennington said. "Get your
equipment set up and report to me when it's ready."