Rebel in Time

Chapter 9

'Are you the jig that he's talking about?' Lieutenant Anderson asked.

Troy nodded slowly, his face locked in an expression of cold anger. 'I'm the one, all right. He got his back up the one and only time that we ever met. Angry when he first talked to me and got angrier all the time.'

'He's got kind of a dirty mouth for an Army officer. Thought you had an integrated Army?'

'It was, last time I looked. Doesn't mean there aren't any rotten apples in it. Do you think this particular rotten apple is the kind who is so stupid that he can't even spell something simple like ofey?'

Anderson nodded. 'There's something very wrong going on here. I'm certain of that. Legal or not, buying all that gold must have had some importance, or you and the FBI wouldn't have been looking into it. Let's do some guessing using the facts that we know so far. Marianne had this heavy date with McCulloch on Friday night. They had steaks, lobster, champagne — the works, and the evening was heavenly. Particularly back in his house where they mutually enjoyed some passionate sex. But she found out something, I don't know what — but something she shouldn't have known. So instead of sending her back in a cab the kind colonel drives her home, takes her up to her apartment. And kills her. Fakes it to look like a burglary. Then turns off the lights and waits in the dark to kill her roommate — who might be able to identify him as Marianne's date of the evening. It hangs together, doesn't it? In a particularly nasty way.'

'How much of that is guess work and how much do you really know?'

'I'm only guessing that she found out something here in this house — and I'm also guessing what happened back at the apartment. Everything else is fact, facts that fit together like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. We know they went out to dinner together that evening. Coroner believes that she was not raped, but she did have intercourse. She's on the pill, traces of it were found in her blood. Semen in her vagina, recent bruises on her shoulders and breasts. Doorman states that she has been coming home from late dates in a cab the last few months. He didn't let her in that night. But every tenant in the building has a key to a rear entrance to the parking lot.'

Troy read the note again, then turned away in disgust. 'It's not pleasant to think about,' he said. 'But it does make some kind of perverted sense. If his disappearance had something to do with the gold — and it was planned well ahead — he might very well eliminate anyone who found out about it, who might interfere. He was in the Green Berets. He knows something about killing people. But just where does that leave us now?'

'It leaves me out of it,' Anderson said, folding the note with his pen and pushing it into an envelope. 'As far as my department is concerned this particular lead stops right here. We'll check this note out, dust the house as well, put an APB out for the colonel, do all the routine things. But I have a strong hunch that we've reached the end of our resources. Of course we'll investigate the case further, follow up any other leads, and I'll keep you informed of any developments. But it looks to me like my little case of murder is small potatoes next to your case of national security. You did tell me that McCulloch was involved with classified work?'

'He was. And his disappearing like this is really bad news. I have a feeling that a big flap is coming down. If there is anything I can tell you later, you know that I will.'

'You bet. I won't call you, you'll call me.'

'Sorry. But there's nothing else I can tell you.'

'Don't worry, son. I've worked in the District all my life. When government steps in we step out.'

'Thanks. Can I have that note?'

'We'll hold the original. Send you a photo this afternoon. Will that do you?'

'Great. Can you give me a lift on your way back?'

'Door to door.'

The fine mist that had been falling all day had changed to a steady, hammering rain that reflected Troy's dark mood. He rode in silence, his thoughts turned inward, seeing again the murdered women, the empty safe, the derisory note aimed directly at him, and the even more empty house with McCulloch gone from it. He did not know how or why, but he felt just as the policeman did, that all of these inexplicable acts were somehow tied together. He intended to do everything he could to find out just how.

As soon as he came through the door of the house on Massachusetts Avenue the receptionist waved him over.

'Orders from the admiral. Wants you in his office soonest. Third floor, little green door at the end of the hall.'

'Not the conference room this time?'

'Feel honoured, you're among the chosen few. Just leave your raincoat here and run. I'll let him know that you are on the way.'

The door was half-open when he came to it. He hesitated but the admiral's voice sounded from inside.

'Push in, Troy. And close it behind you.'

Troy had not known what to expect — but certainly not this. There was none of the usual senior-executive furniture here, or even bridge-of-battleship navy. The room was windowless and bare, except for the grey metal cabinets that covered one wall. The admiral sat with his back to the other wall, facing a computer terminal. The only other object in the room was the high-speed printer against the third wall. There was a telephone next to the terminal — and nothing else, not even another chair.

'This is where the work really gets done,' the admiral said. 'Everything I need to know comes in either through the terminal or the phone — and goes out the same way. I don't believe in paper any more. We live in an age of high-speed electronics. Now tell me all you know about this disastrous affair with Colonel McCulloch.'

There was no place to sit — other than on the floor — so Troy stood at ease, hands clasped behind his back, as he carefully outlined the facts and the conclusions that he and Anderson had reached. The admiral looked at the screen instead of at him as he talked, occasionally typing in a few words as though updating a file. He looked up, only once, when the empty safe and the note were mentioned.

'Do you remember what the note said?'

'It's a little hard to forget, admiral. It read — keep looking for me, jig, but you're not going to find me.'

'Interesting. He must have realized that your visit to his office was really to investigate him — not the Army corporal. Which means he was either aware of the FBI surveillance, or was expecting it. If he did kill the two women it could indicate that he might have been on a fixed schedule of some kind and did not want it upset. If all of these suppositions are true, he was apparently only trying to buy enough time to bring these arrangements to some conclusion. His plans had obviously been made for some time, for him to get out, go somewhere with the gold and leave his life, his career behind him. It must have been something damn important. Do you have any idea what it could be?'

'No, sir. But I do have some suggestions for immediate action. I feel that it is imperative that a description of McCulloch be sent at once to all airports, border points, customs stations, any place where he might attempt to leave the country. I am certain that there are grounds for asking that he be detained.'

'Damn right there are. How about desertion for openers? The last I heard that was a shooting offence.'

The admiral was typing furiously at the terminal as he talked. He read the quick response, then typed in another command and leaned back. The high-speed printer rattled into action and spewed out a yard of paper.

'Acknowledgement from the FBI with details of the action taken. Bless the computer networks. We'll have the country sewn up tight inside of three minutes.'

'Do you think that it will do any good?'

'No. Wherever he was going, you can be sure that he is already there — or well on his way. But there is nothing wrong with the late slamming of barn doors. What is your next course of action?'

'I did some hard thinking about that on the way over here. But I would like to know first if I am still in charge of the operation?'

'Until you are told differently.'

'All right. Then I'll want to spend some government money. I need help from the FBI here, the CIA overseas. I want every detail on every bit of McCulloch's life that they can turn up. I want to find out who his friends are — and when they are contacted I want them questioned so we can also find out who his enemies are as well. I want to know all of his contacts, the name of every one of his girl friends, anything and everything about the man. It will be a mass of garbage that will have to be sifted through very slowly. But somewhere in there will be an answer to all our questions about the colonel and his gold.'

The admiral nodded. 'A sound beginning. I'll see to it. Meanwhile, what are you yourself going to do?'

'I want to go to the colonel's place of employment and talk to everyone there who knew him. This might uncover a lead. Some of them may be involved with this. I know already that he told Corporal Mendez, the one I was supposed to be investigating, something about me that rubbed Mendez up the wrong way. I want to find out what that was. I'll also have to have complete access to the Weeks Electronics Laboratory, and be able to talk to anyone there as well. Do you know what kind of research they are doing there?'

'No. Top secret high technology work, that's all I know. Do you think that the project there is relevant to the disappearance?'

'I have no idea. But I am going to have to explore every possible avenue. Did McCulloch know what sort of work, they were doing?'

'I'm sure that he did.'

'Then I'll have to know as well. Can you arrange it?'

'Probably. If your security clearance is good enough there should be no problem. I'll ask the right questions and we'll know soon enough.'

It took less than an hour for the okay to come through, which was little short of miraculous considering the delicate security area involved. It also demonstrated the depth of concern in high places about McCulloch's disappearance. Just an hour after the permission arrived Troy was called to the conference room by the admiral. He tried not to show concern at the sight of the full colonel and the two star general who were also waiting there for him. The admiral made the introductions.

'General Stringham, Colonel Burkhardt, this is Sergeant Harmon. As you know he is operating as lieutenant on this particular assignment.'

Troy threw the sharpest salute that he could. The salute was returned in silence which stretched on and on until Admiral Colonne had left the room.

'The general will now administer the oath for your Top Secret clearance,' the colonel said. 'As soon as that is done and I have witnessed it you will receive your new ID and pass to the Gnomen project. I will then escort you there. You will raise your right hand.'

This was the first time that Troy had heard the name of the project that was being worked on in the laboratory. It meant nothing to him. The ceremony was a swift one, and as soon as it was over he was rushed out with the colonel to a waiting staff car. Two motorcyclists led the way as they ploughed through the afternoon traffic. For the first time Troy began to realize just how deep were the waters that he was fishing in.

'Rotten weather,' Colonel Burkhardt said. 'Early too. Bet we have an even worse winter.' He leaned forward and slid shut the glass panel behind the driver's seat. 'You've got to find out where this traitorous son-of-a-bitch has gone and then nail his goddamned hide to the wall. Do you understand?'

'Yes, sir. Might I ask, are you acquainted with this Gnomen project?'

'No. Don't know a damn thing about it except that the name of the director is Doctor Delcourt, whom we are on our way to see right now. It is also about the most top-top secret research project that we have going. The budget is right up there in CIA figures. So when the security officer who is supposed to be guarding something like this, when he ups and vanishes, why I get scared. And you better realize now that we will undoubtedly get some high-powered investigation team on to this assignment as soon as someone figures out just whose backyard it is in. Meanwhile, since you are the one who initiated this investigation, you will proceed with it until relieved. Which means that we want you to get us some answers, and I also mean instantly or even sooner.'

Yes, sir, was the only answer to that one. After this one-sided conversation Burkhardt slumped silently back in his seat and angrily chewed an unlit cigar for the rest of the trip. At the laboratory their identification swept them by the security checks and on into the main building. A guide took them up in the elevator, directly to the director's office.

Dr Roxanne Delcourt was in her middle fifties. She was grey haired, not unattractive — though her face was barren of make-up — and was efficiently dressed in a grey worsted suit. The only jewellery that she wore was a string of cultivated pearls tucked under the collar of her white silk blouse. There were no rings, certainly nothing on the third finger of her left hand. She shook hands with Troy, then showed Burkhardt to the door as he left. She relaxed a little as soon as he was gone, and smiled as she turned to Troy.

'Well, lieutenant, please sit down. It has been a most traumatic day with all the comings and goings. It appears that Wes McCulloch didn't show up this morning and for some reason this is being treated like the end of the world.'

'You must admit, doctor, that this could be very serious. After all he was head of security here.'

'I know, but we have nothing here that any spies could possibly be interested in. Gnomen is a research project, pure and simple. An exercise in higher mathematics and nuclear physics. We are begining to get results, but I'm afraid that applications are still years away at this stage.'

'Did McCulloch know anything about the research here?'

'Everything. He had to, of course. Security.'

'Well then, doctor, I'm afraid that I will have to know what is going on here as well. Could you please tell me — just what is the Gnomen project all about?'