Ronnie blinked, then remembered the name. The FBI guy. A bit of relief swept through him. The FBI had to know what he was doing, right? Or at least have a little more idea than Ronnie did.
"Yeah, Ronnie Camden," he said, taking the man's hand and shaking it. He blinked at the folder, then looked at his own mess and sighed. "I heard you organized a door to door search yesterday or something? I think your information might be a little more up to date. We only had fifteen guards yesterday and as far as I know nobody at all today except me till I got on for the afternoon shift."
He wasn't about to mention that he'd been late to it because it didn't seem to relevant. At Cath's mention of the rounds for the guard's rooms he nodded. "We were going to go make sure none of the other fourteen guns are the the guards rooms. You know, since everybody is arming themselves now. Also, since I might well drop off the face of the planet soon too, I thought I'd give you guys copies of the master card keys and the codes for the gun safe and whatnot."
He hadn't been nearly immune to the scathing remarks about him being the last of the security and the most likely candidate to disappear next, but if he was going to he was going to make sure somebody else had access to everything he did, and the FBI and a fellow crew member seemed the best candidates for that responsibility at the moment.