"The weather forecast for the next couple of days is fair," Prestonby
reminded her. "Why not just pile the stuff on the top stage, beyond
the control tower, and put up warning, signs?"

The man--Hutschnecker, Prestonby remembered hearing Claire call
him--nodded.

"That might be all right. We could cover the cases with tarpaulins."

A buzzer drew one of the Illiterates to a handphone. He listened for a
moment, and turned.

"Hey, there's a Mrs. H. Armytage Zydanowycz down in Furs; she wants to
buy one of those mutated-mink coats, and she's only got half a million
bucks with her. How's her credit?"

Claire handed Prestonby a black-bound book. "Confidential
credit-rating guide; look her up for us," she said.

Another buzzer rasped, before Prestonby could find the entry on
Zydanowycz, H. Armytage; the Illiterate office worker, laying down one
phone, grabbed up another.

"They're all outta small money in Notions; every son and his brother's
been in there in the last hour to buy a pair of dollar shoestrings
with a grand-note."

"I'll take care of that," Hutschnecker said. "Wait till I call control
tower, and tell them about the fireworks."