and

A second marine

A second marine came along the corridor and took up a position opposite me. He was a solidly built redhead, not over eighteen. He looked at me with a face as expressionless as a courthouse clock.
" 'E's coming down," the sergeant said. He looked across at the other marine. "What do you want, Dyvis?"
The redhead kept his eyes on me. "Breff o' fresh air," he said shortly.
There was a sound of feet coming leisurely down the winding staircase on my left. A sad-looking tweed-suited man with thinning gray hair and pale blue eyes in wrinkled pockets came into view. He slowed when he saw me, glanced at the two marines.
"What's this all about, Sergeant?" he said in a tired voice, like someone who has put up with a lot lately.
"Somebody to see you," the sergeant said. "Sir," he added. The newcomer looked at me suspiciously.
"I have some important information, Mr. Phipps," I said.
"Just who are you, might I inquire?" Phipps asked. His expression indicated that whatever I said, he wouldn't be pleased.
"U.S. Treasury." I showed him the I.D.
He nodded and looked past me, out through the heavy grille-work. He waved toward the stair.
"You may as well come along to the office." He turned and started back up; I followed him to the second floor, along a wide, still corridor of dark offices. We entered a lighted room with sexless furnishing in the international official medium-plush style.
Phipps sat down behind a cluttered desk, looked across at me glumly as I took a chair. Joel stood beside me, gaping at the picture of Queen Anne on the wall.
"I won't bore you with