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?
Chapter 6
Nigger! Colonel McCulloch said as the door closed behind Lieutenant Harmon's back. He breathed the word so quietly that it could not have been heard a foot away, but there was still a terrible viciousness to its sound.
I almost called him that, he thought, almost said it out loud. But I didn't — and that's what counts. He irritated me, that's what he did, got under my skin. The bastard couldn't have bugged me more if he had been doing it on purpose…
He stopped, frozen at the thought, then turned to the window. Watching the lieutenant emerge from the building and climb into his jeep. Was there any chance — any slight chance — that it could have been done on purpose? Were they finally on to him? Twice in the last two weeks he had suspected that he was being followed, but neither time had he been able to make sure. Each time that he had driven away from his normal route the car that he had spotted behind his had turned off. But that meant nothing. Two or three cars in radio contact could easily leapfrog one another and trail him without his knowledge, And his house — when was it — four days ago, when he had had the feeling that someone had been there, that papers had been moved. No real evidence; just the sensation that things had been taken out and put back. All three of the matchsticks had been in place, in the front and back doors, and the one into the garage. Yet he had still felt that someone had been there.
Or was he getting just a little bit paranoid with the deadline so close? No, he had better be paranoid, that was the only way to stay ahead in any matter involving security. Believe that the worst was going to happen — then take every precaution to see that it didn't.
So — what if someone had been in his house? What if he had been followed and they now knew he had been buying gold? What would their next step be? The answer to that one was very obvious; he had been involved in this sort of operation often enough himself. The normal procedure would be to initiate an in-depth investigation of the suspect. And to have an operative meet him under some excuse or another. There was a chillness on the back of his neck at the thought; he rubbed it unconsciously. Could this jig lieutenant have been the one? Could the investigation of Chucho just have been a front for the real reason — which was getting into this office, getting to talk to him? Well, why not? Maybe the black boy was smarter than he had looked.
But it doesn't matter, he said to himself, it doesn't matter at all. He was just going to have to forget that it had ever happened. Even if his suspicions were true there was nothing at all he could do about it. He had to act normal, he must follow routine. There were only a few days to go now. He must not do a thing to draw any further attention to himself. He had to make a positive effort not to vary his lifestyle in any way. It was almost time and he was not going to let any hitches occur at this late date. If all that they had were suspicions, why fine, let them have them. As long as they could be kept at bay until it was too late for them to do a thing.