Rebel in Time

'This is the one, sir,' Troy said, sliding the file across the shining surface of the table. 'Corporal Aurelio Mendez. Everyone calls him by his nickname, Chucho. He's a whiz kid with electronics, but very unmilitary. He comes from Baltimore and goes back there every week-end when he is off duty. Drinks and plays a lot of pool with the gang he grew up with. Nothing wrong with that — except he is one of the very few who got out of the Puerto Rican ghetto there. Which means he knows a good collection of pimps and numbers runners, petty criminals of all types.'

The admiral scowled at the folder. 'Do you mean that you have uncovered a real security risk? The Weeks lab has a top secret security listing.'

'There is no security problem at all. An undercover agent, also Puerto Rican, spent almost a month on this clearance. His friends respect Chucho and they have learned to let him alone. He's is also a very tough cookie, even though he is always on the carpet for an overweight problem. One of his drinking partners tried to rib him about his military career. Chucho got him over the head with a billiard cue. Knocked him clean out and they had to put seven stitches in his scalp. No official report was made of the incident and the two men are still buddies. But all of his friends know that Chucho has plenty of macho and they have learned to leave him alone. But this kind of thing is more than enough grounds for me to run a clearance check.'

'Then let us arrange it. The sooner the better. The deeper we get into this problem the more questions we get — and we still don't have answers for any of them. Then there is something else that we have to consider. When you get to the laboratory you will have to associate with a full colonel. In which case you are going to have to have a little rank. We better give you a temporary promotion to lieutenant. Wait, belay that order, no one respects lieutenants, it's a lower rank than sergeant. You'll have to be a captain. I hope you won't mind being an officer for a time?'

'No, sir. I've used a lot of different ranks in G2 work. And I'll settle for lieutenant, if it's all right. Too much power might go to my head. But I'll need a letter of authorization to get a new uniform. And the same goes for the new dog tags.'

'Of course. I'll see to that right now. I'll have the entire matter arranged by late this afternoon.'

At ten o'clock the following morning Troy Harmon drove the military jeep off the Beltway at Exit 42, then turned into the broad driveway that led to Weeks Electronics Laboratory Number Two.

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.