Grainger finished her coffee and screwed the cup back onto the thermos. “I guess I didn’t want it to go to waste,” she said. “The insulin wasn’t meant for them; it was our own supply. But we don’t need it anymore.” She paused for a couple of beats. “Severin died.” “Severin? The guy I traveled with?” “Yup.” “He’s a diabetic?” “Was.”
They wouldn't hire a diabetic, would they? Too expensive to send insulin as cargo, no? But to think of it, they didn't scrutinize Peter's belongings much. As if they weren't very concerned with weight.
