Rebel in Time

Chapter 5

'Morning, lieutenant, can I be of some help to you?'

The uniformed guard was well into middle-age, pot-bellied — and unarmed. The casual visitor might therefore assume that security was lax here, that there might not even be any secrets worth protecting. However there was a second guard in the security station behind the first one, heavily armed, looking out through thick glass that was almost certainly bulletproof. The laboratory was well guarded and securely protected. Troy took out his ID and handed it over.

'I'm here to see Colonel McCulloch.'

'Sure enough. Is he expecting you?' the guard passed the ID into the building behind him through a steel security slit.

'No, but I have orders to report to him.'

'You've got a winner then. If I could see the orders, please.'

The guard also slipped the orders through the slot then, still smiling, stepped to one side. There was a TV pick-up in the guardhouse behind him that now had an unobstructed view of Troy. Not only was he on Candid Camera, but his picture was surely being recorded at the same time. All of the procedures here were first class; the security was really very tight. McCulloch was a professional. Troy knew that he was going to have to stay on his toes at all times. A phone began to ring; the outside guard turned to open a metal door in the wall behind him. He picked up the receiver, listened, then held it out to Troy.

'For you, Lieutenant Harmon.'

Troy turned off the engine and climbed out of the jeep, then took the handpiece from the guard.

'Lieutenant Harmon.'

'This is Colonel McCulloch, lieutenant. What's this all about?' His accent was deep South — born in Mississippi, Troy recalled.

'Security, sir.'

'I know that.' McCulloch's voice was very cold. 'I asked you what was the nature of this visit.'

'Security, sir. I'll give you full details when I see you.'

The line went dead. Troy's expression did not change, but he smiled to himself as he hung up the phone. First point scored. The colonel was pissed off. Good. Maybe he might even lose his temper. There was the distant sound of the phone ringing inside the security booth. The guard picked it up, spoke briefly, then disconnected. He pressed a button on the phone and his amplified voice came from a speaker under the roof.

'You can go in now, Lieutenant Harmon. The guard will show you where to park.' Troy did not move.

'Thank you. You have my ID and orders there.'

'They'll be returned when you leave.'

'Sure. Except I'm not going inside until I get them back.'

The guard gave Troy a long, cold look, then passed the documents back through the security slot. Troy slipped them inside his jacket and climbed back into the jeep; the outside guard joined him. The heavy metal gate swung slowly open and they drove through.

'Just follow this road around to the right of the big building, then turn left at the first junction,' the guard said.

'I got you. Your colonel sounded peed off at me.'

'No reason for you to think that,' the man said placidly. 'There's your turn.'

'Maybe not. But he sure sounded like a hard man to get along with.'

The guard gave him a quick look, then turned his eyes back on the road. 'The world's a hard place, sonny, and jobs aren't that easy to get during a recession. Not when you're my age.'

'I read you, pops. The colonel is really a sweety.'

'You said it, I didn't,' the man answered in a non-commital voice. 'Pull into that slot there, number eight, and I'll take you in.'

The guardhouse was clean and uncluttered and very GI. When they passed an open door the two clerks working inside did not even look up. The guard knocked at the unmarked door at the end of the corridor, then opened it.

'Thanks,' Troy said, braced his shoulders and walked in. The colonel sat at his desk, writing. Troy stood at attention until he looked up, then he saluted. The return salute was slow in coming, a bare lift of the hand.

'I'll see your orders, lieutenant.'

'Yes, sir.'

McCulloch skimmed through the papers quickly, then threw them onto the desk. His face was expressionless but there was the cold bite of anger in his voice.

'There's nothing in here about the reason for this call, just an authorization. What do you want?'

'May I stand at ease, sir?'

'Yes. What are you here for?'

'We had a request for a security check on one of your men, a Corporal Aurelio Mendez.'

'Mendez is clean. All my men are clean. Who initiated this request?'

'The Baltimore Police Department. May I sit down, colonel?'

'What the goddamned hell do you mean, lieutenant? Walking in here like this, your attitude…'

'Listen, colonel, I'm not in your outfit and I'm not assigned to you. I'm here to get your co-operation in this investigation, nothing else. If you don't want to give it I'll just get back to the Pentagon and tell General Brownlee what occurred. You did recognize his signature on those orders?'

Just to drive it home, Troy turned his back on the colonel and pulled the wooden chair away from the wall and sat down on it. He could see the colour rise in McCulloch's face and he waited for the blast. The colonel had a very short fuse.

The explosion never came. McCulloch's clenched fists relaxed and he spun about in his chair to look out of the window. When he turned back he was in complete control again.

'All right, lieutenant, let's get on with it. What do you want to do?'

'I would like to talk to Corporal Mendez, just informally. If there is a room I can use…'

'No. Permission refused. If you are going to question him I must be present. I am in complete charge of security at this laboratory, and that includes the security of my own men.'

'This is contrary to regulations.'

'Not to my regulations. You will do as I have instructed or I will arrange for Mendez's transfer out of this outfit right now.'

Troy shrugged. 'Whatever you say, colonel. You've got the rank. But I will have to report this infringement of my orders.'

'You just do that, you n… lieutenant, just do that.'

McCulloch's temper was barely under restraint again. What was that he had almost said — then changed his mind? Before Troy could goad him even further the colonel had grabbed up the phone and was punching in a number. When there was no answer he stalked out of the room without another word. Troy went and looked out of the window, not bothering to touch anything in the room. This was one place that was sure to be clean.

Almost a quarter of an hour passed before McCulloch returned. He threw open the door and stood aside in order to let a rotund corporal wearing greasy fatigues enter the room. Then he came in himself and closed the door.

'Corporal Mendez, this is Lieutenant Harmon from the Military Police. He wants to ask you some questions.'

'What's up, lieutenant?' Chucho asked, chomping slowly on a wad of gum, his dark Indian features smooth and unreadable.

'Sit down, Chucho…'

'My friends call me that. My name is Mendez, Corporal Mendez.' He remained standing, staring at Troy with cold contempt.

The colonel has talked to him already, Troy thought, walking over to his own chair and sitting down again. What could he have told him? Could there be a possible connection between the two men, something that didn't relate to the security work? He could only try to find out.

'What's the problem, Chucho?' he said. 'I haven't even talked to you yet and you got your back up. Is something bothering you?'

'Nothing bothering me except I don't like cops. Army kind or any kind.'

'I'm sorry to hear that. Because the police are involved in this. That's the reason I'm here. It appears that there is a Baltimore Police investigation. The way I understand it there has been a report that one of your friends…'

'What my friends do got nothing to do with me. I don't know nothing. Look, I'm busy, if that's all you want—'

'No, corporal, that's not all that I want. This matter must involve you or I wouldn't be here, would I?' Troy was looking straight at Chucho, but had a clear view of McCulloch at the same time. The colonel was playing it cool now, his expression as impassive as Chucho's. 'You have a friend — an acquaintance, then, if you don't like the word friend — someone that you have been seen playing pool with…'

'What kind of shit is this? I played pool with half the spics in Baltimore.'

'Just hear me out. This matter is serious. An acquaintance of yours by the name of Paco Collado has jumped bail. When, your name came up in the investigation it was bumped to my department…'

'Colonel, do I got to listen to this crap?' Chucho said, turning his back on Troy. 'Wasn't this all settled once and for all when I first came here to clean up the bugs in the security network? Do we gotta do it all again?'

'No we don't,' McCulloch said firmly. 'You can get back to work, corporal.' He walked over to the window and stood, looking out, until he heard the door close, then spun about to face Troy. 'The corporal is right, this matter has been gone over before and is now closed. If your people feel it has to be opened again, then have him transferred. But I will not permit this interference in the operation of my unit. Is that clear, lieutenant?'

'Very clear, sir. I'll report back to the general everything that you have said.'

'Do that, Lieutenant Harmon, just do that. Now get out.'

Troy left. He was no wiser about the gold — but at least he had met the colonel and knew at least one thing about him. They were not destined to be bosom companions for life; he smiled at the thought as he got into the jeep and gunned it out of the lot. He had no love for the colonel, who appeared to be a thoroughgoing military son-of-a-bitch. And for some reason McCulloch had taken an instant dislike to him as well. That had been obvious from the moment he had walked into the room. Then, when he had lost his temper, the colonel had been about to say something — but had stopped himself. What had it been?