Read the following passage and questions, then choose the right answer from options, the answer should be one of A, B, C, D.

<passage>:
"If I'm a spy," he said impatiently, "then I'm supposed to look for indications of an attack by you people on my Project." I shrugged. "If that's your job," I said, "then that's your job." THE SPY IN THE ELEVATOR not my job, you blatant idiot!" he shouted. "I'm not a spy! If I were a spy, then that would be my job!" By DONALD E. WESTLAKE He was dangerously insane. He threatened to destroy everything that was noble and "How do I know that?" he demanded. "It's the truth! What would we want to attack anybody for?" "Now, wait a minute—" "No!" he shouted. "You wait a minute! I want to tell you something. You think I'm a spy. That blundering Army of yours thinks I'm a spy. That fathead who turned me in thinks I'm a spy. But I'm not a spy, and I'm going to tell you what I am." I waited, looking as attentive as possible. And then the elevator didn't come. malfunctioning air-cons, and I managed somehow to leave the apartment Ten more seconds, and still no elevator. I chose the second Frantic, I dashed from the apartment again, back down the hall to the the elevator is disconnected?" , disconnecting the elevator? Not only won't she revealing a cleavage that I was too distraught at the moment to pay any attention to. "We're not supposed to give this information out, understand why we had to do it. I think it's perfectly awful that it had to ruin things for you this way. But the fact of the matter is—" she leaned even closer to the screen—"there's a spy in the elevator." II It was my turn to be stunned. I just gaped at her. "A—a what?" "A spy. He was discovered on the hundred forty-seventh floor, and managed to get into the elevator before the Army could catch him. He jammed it between floors. But the Army is doing everything it can think outside at all. And when anyone tries to get into the shaft, he aims anybody who goes after him." "Oh," I said. "So it might take a while." afraid they'll have to starve him out." "Oh, no!" For a minute or two, all I could do was sit and absorb what I'd been told. A spy in the elevator! A spy who had managed to work his way all the way up to the hundred forty-seventh floor before being unmasked! What in the world was the matter with the Army? If things were getting that lax, the Project was doomed, force-screen or no. Who knew how many more spies there were in the Project, still unsuspected? Until that moment, the state of siege in which we all lived had had no reality for me. The Project, after all, was self-sufficient and bring back news of any immediate threats and dangers that project might be planning for us. Most spies didn't return most ore-sleds did. And within the Project life was full, the knowledge of external dangers they weren't sure either, it was risky to expose yourself in order to ask. Outside. The basic policy of Eternal Vigilance and Instant Preparedness was left to the Army. The rest of us simply lived our lives and let it go at that. But now there was a spy in the elevator. When I thought of how deeply he had penetrated our defenses, and of how would agree with me that a spy in the elevator was good and sufficient reason for me to be late. He was still there. At least, the elevator was still out. I hadn't paid any attention to it before. No one ever uses the stairs answers flashed through my mind. The more recent maps might simply have omitted this discarded and unnecessary door. It might be sealed shut on the other side. The Army might have caught the spy already. Somebody in authority might simply have goofed. As I stood there, pondering these possibilities, the door opened and the spy came out, waving a gun. III He couldn't have been anyone else but the spy. The gun, in the first place. The fact that he looked harried and upset and terribly nervous, in the second place. And, of course, the fact that he came from the high-cheekboned face featuring deepset eyes and a thin-lipped mouth. He wore gray slacks and shirt, with brown slippers on his feet. He looked exactly like a spy ... which is to say that he didn't look like a spy, he looked overpoweringly ordinary. More than anything else, he reminded me of a rather taciturn milkman who used to make deliveries to my parents' apartment. at the descending stairs and whispered, "Where do they go?" boots. The Army! But if I had any visions of imminent rescue, the spy dashed them. He said, "Where do you live?" I knew my only slim chance of safety lay in answering his questions promptly, cooperating with him until and unless I saw a chance to either escape or capture him. it was right then. No one came out of any of the apartments, no one leap at him before he could bring the gun up again. But he must have read my intentions on my face. He straightened, shaking his head. He said, "Don't try it. I don't want to kill you. I don't want to kill anybody, but I will if I have to. We'll just wait here together until to sic your Army on me too soon, and I'll leave. If you don't try any silly heroics, nothing will happen to you." "You'll never get away," I told him. "The whole Project is alerted." "You let me worry about that," he said. He licked his lips. "You got And now I had yet another grudge against this blasted spy. Which reminded me again of Linda. From the looks of things, I wasn't ever stupidity. Listen, you! Do you realize how long it took man to get out growing up. His dreams were getting bigger and grander and better all the time. He was planning to tackle waiting to be plucked like an apple from a tank. And Man was reaching out for it." He glared as though daring me to doubt it. I decided that this man was doubly dangerous. Not only was he a spy, he was also a lunatic. So I had two reasons for humoring him. I nodded politely. saying, "Here's your coffee." "Put it on the table," he said, switching instantly from raving maniac to watchful spy. I put it on the table. He drank deep, then carried the cup across the room and sat down in my favorite chair. He studied me narrowly, and suddenly said, "What did they tell you I was? A spy?" "Of course," I said. He grinned bitterly, with one side of his mouth. "Of course. The damn fools! Spy! What do you suppose I'm going to spy on?" He asked the question so violently and urgently that I knew I had to answer quickly and well, or the maniac would return. "I—I wouldn't adequate defense equipment. I chose to believe the Army over an enemy spy. "Your people send out spies, too, don't they?" he demanded. "Well, of course." "And what are they supposed to spy on?" "Well—" It was such a pointless question, it seemed silly to even answer it. "They're supposed to look for indications of an attack by one of the other projects." "And do they find any indications, ever?" "I'm sure I don't know," I told him frostily. "That would be classified information." "You bet it would," he said, with malicious glee. "All right, if that's spies are doing, and if I'm a spy, then it follows that I'm doing the same thing, right?" "I don't follow you," I admitted.

<question>:
Why does the man never leave his apartment building?

<options>:
A He is locked in
B There is no way down to ground level
C He is afraid of radiation
D He doesn't want to be caught as a spy

<answer>:

C