The Collectors

Chapter 31

Annabelle and the Camel Club gathered at Stone’s cottage at seven o’clock the next morning.

“Nice digs,” she said, gazing around the small interior. “And you have such quiet neighbors,” she added, motioning out the window to the tombstones.

“There are some dead people whose company I would prefer over that of certain of my living acquaintances,” Stone replied tersely.

“I can relate,” Annabelle said cheerfully, sitting down in front of the empty fireplace. “Let’s get to it, guys.”

Reuben sat next to her looking for the world like a large puppy hoping for a little scratch around the ears. Caleb, Milton and Stone sat across from them.

“Here’s my plan,” Stone said. “Milton will find out as much as possible about Bob Bradley. There may be something about that we can use. I’ll visit Bradley’s house, or rather what’s left of his house, and see what I can discover. Reuben used to be stationed at the Pentagon. He’ll work his contacts there to find out what he can about Behan’s military contracts that Bradley’s dethroned predecessor might have helped push through.”

Annabelle gazed at Reuben. “Pentagon, huh?”

He tried to appear modest. “Three tours of Nam too. Enough medals to decorate a damn Christmas tree. Hey, it’s all about serving your country.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Annabelle said, turning back to Stone. “But what about Jonathan’s death? How do we find out if someone killed him?”

“I have a theory about that, but it’ll require going to the Library of Congress and checking out the fire suppressant system there. The one problem with that is we don’t know where it’s located in the building. Caleb can’t find out because it’s classified for some reason. I guess so unauthorized persons couldn’t sabotage it, although I think that’s precisely what happened. The building is so massive that even if we could search room by room, it would take forever. We also need to see the configuration for the ventilation system for the room where Jonathan was found dead.”

She asked, “What’s this fire suppressant system got to do with anything?”

“I have a theory,” is all Stone would say.

“Wouldn’t the architect who did the building have the plans that would show both the fire system and the HVAC?” Annabelle pointed out.

“They would,” Stone said. “Although the Jefferson Building was built in the late 1800s, it underwent extensive renovation about fifteen years ago. The Architect of the Capitol has the plans, but we have no access to them.”

“Did they use a private architectural firm to help with the renovation?” she asked.

Caleb snapped his fingers. “You know, they did, one right here in D.C. I remember now, because the government was trying to stimulate the local economy and was getting more into public-private partnerships.”

“There’s your answer,” Annabelle said.

“I’m not following you,” Stone replied. “We still have no access to those plans.”

She looked at Caleb. “Can you get me the name of the firm?”

“I believe so.”

“The only issue will be whether they’ll let us take pictures of the plans. I doubt they will, and copying them is probably out too.” As she was thinking out loud, the Camel Club stared at her mystified. She finally noted this and said, “I’ll get us into the architectural firm, but we need copies of the designs if we’re going to locate the fire room and HVAC in the building.”

Milton said, “I have a photographic memory. If I look at the plans once, I can memorize them.”

She looked at him skeptically. “I’ve heard people make that claim before, and it never quite works out.”

“I can assure you that it ‘works out’ with me,” Milton said indignantly.

She grabbed a book off the shelf, opened it to a page in the middle and held it up in front of Milton. “Okay, read the page to yourself.” He did so and nodded. Annabelle turned the book around and looked at the page. “All right, Mr. Photo, start regurgitating.”

Milton read the page from memory, including punctuation marks, without one misstep.

For the first time in their company Annabelle looked impressed. “You ever been to Vegas?” she asked. He shook his head. “You might want to try it sometime.”

“Isn’t card counting illegal?” Stone asked, quickly deducing what she was alluding to.

She answered, “No, so long as you don’t use a mechanical or computer device to do it.”

“Wow,” Milton exclaimed. “I could make a fortune.”

Annabelle said, “But before you get your hopes up, even though it’s not illegal if you’re just using your brain, if they catch you, they’ll beat the crap out of you.”

“Oh!” Milton said, horrified. “Never mind.”

She turned to Stone. “So how do you think Jonathan was killed? And no more doublespeak or I walk.”

Stone studied her and then made up his mind. “Caleb found Jonathan’s body. Right after that he fainted. At the hospital the nurse said that he was getting better and that his temperature was coming up, not down.”

“And your point is?” Annabelle said.

“The fire suppressant system at the library uses a substance called halon 1301,” Caleb said, taking up the explanation. “It starts as a liquid in the pipes but turns into a gas when it comes out of the nozzle. It puts out fires in part by eliminating oxygen in the atmosphere.”

“Meaning Jonathan might have suffocated to death! Good God, you mean the police didn’t stumble across that possibility and check to see whether the gas cylinder was empty?” Annabelle said angrily.

“There was no evidence that the system was even engaged,” Stone said. “The warning horn didn’t sound, and Caleb learned that it was operational, although it could have been disconnected and then reattached later. And the gas leaves no residue.”

“And on top of that, halon 1301 could not have killed Jonathan, not at the levels that are used to suppress fires at the library,” Caleb added. “I checked it. That’s why it’s used in spaces occupied by people.”

“So where is this leading?” Annabelle asked. “You seem to be saying two different things. It was the gas but it wasn’t the gas. Which is it?” she demanded.

Stone took up the discussion. “One element of the suppressant being engaged is the lowering of the temperature in the room. Caleb said he saw Jonathan’s body, got an immediate chill and fainted. I believe the chill came from the gas, which led to the nurse’s comment in the hospital about Caleb’s temperature coming up. And I think Caleb fainted because the oxygen levels in the room were low, but not low enough to kill him, because he’d come into the room about a half hour after Jonathan.”

Annabelle said, “So it obviously wasn’t this halon 1301 stuff. So something else?”

“Exactly. We just have to find out what.”

Annabelle stood. “Okay, I need to start doing some serious prep work.”

Stone rose and faced her. “Susan, before you really become involved, you need to know that there are some very dangerous people tied up in this. I’ve already had evidence of that personally. It could be very risky for you.”

“Oliver, let me put it this way. If it’s any more dangerous than what I was involved in last week, I’d be floored.”

Stone looked stunned by this comment and stepped back.

Annabelle hooked an arm through Milton’s. “Okay, Milton, we need to spend some time together.”

Reuben looked crushed. “Why Milton?”

“Because he’s my little Xerox machine.” She pinched Milton’s cheek and he immediately turned red. “But first, we have to get him the right clothes, the right style.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” Milton said, looking down at his red sweater and jeans, both of which were impeccably cleaned and pressed.

“Absolutely nothing,” she said. “Except they’re all wrong for what I need.” She pointed at Caleb. “Call Milton with the name of the firm as soon as you get it.” She snapped her fingers. “Let’s go, Miltie.”

She strode out the door. A shocked Milton looked helplessly at the others and hissed, “Miltie?”

“Milton!” Annabelle called from outside the cottage. “Now!”

Milton shot out of the door. Reuben immediately whirled on Stone. “Are you just going to let her take him?”

“What exactly would you suggest I do, Reuben?” Stone said bluntly. “That woman is a hurricane and earthquake all rolled into one.”

“I don’t know, you could... I mean...” He plopped down in a chair and growled, “Damn it, why couldn’t I have a photographic memory!”

“Thank God you don’t,” Caleb exclaimed in a disgusted tone.

“What makes you say that?” Reuben demanded hotly.

“Because then she’d be calling you Ruby, and I’d have to be sick to my stomach.”