Marshall switched on the scrambler, then reached down to the floor behind the sofa and picked up a long piece of loose wire. The end had been fitted with a plug and he clipped this into the aerial socket of the transceiver. Following the wire behind the sofa to the corner, he traced it along the skirting board behind his desk to the emergency door, where it disappeared through a small aperture.
Satisfied, he returned to the set, unwound a power lead and plugged it into his desk light. As he switched on he listened to the set hum into life, then quietly adjusted the tuning dial until the red fixed-beam answering bulb lit up. Then he pulled on the headphones and picked up the miniature microphone.
" Hardoon Tower, this is Black Admiral calling Hardoon Tower," he began to repeat rapidly. Deborah came and stood at his shoulder, and he put his free arm around her.
As the answering call came through, the narrow door behind Marshall 's desk opened slowly. A tall, heavily built man in black plastic storm suit and fiberglass helmet stepped softly into the r6om. His face was hidden by the deep visor of the helmet and the broad metal chinstrap, but between them were a tight scarred mouth, a sharp nose and cheekbones, hard eyes. The man's hands were gloveless, rubber seals at the sleeves of the suit clasping his thick wrists. In the center of his helmet was a single large white triangle, like a pyramid in profile.
Marshall waved him into the room, gesturing him to lock the door behind him, then crouched over the set.
"… tell R.H. we're leaving in about five minutes, estimated time of arrival at the Tower-" he glanced at his watch "-0400 hours. Everything here is closing down, all government agencies pulled out yesterday. The Titan will carry U.S. Navy insignia-it's too dangerous to move around now without any markings and the only other big tractors are American, so no one will try to stop us. What's that?"
Marshall paused, watching the tall figure of Kroll standing beside him as the question was repeated. "I'll be bringing them along. They're top communications people; they'll be useful to us. What? There are only three of them. Don't worry, I'll see R.H. personally about it." Marshall 's face began to knot, his deep jaw lengthening as he listened impatiently to the voice in his earphones. He started to say: "Listen, I don't care what orders R.H. made-" then abruptly uncupped his headphones and switched the set off.
"Bloody fool!" he snapped. "Who does that operator think he is?" His face clouded with anger, then slowly relaxed. He pulled out the aerial, then folded away the earphones and hand microphone and closed the case.
"Have to watch R.H.," he said reflectively to Kroll. "He's a tough nut, all right. Just because Communications are taking second place to Construction now the boys at the Tower are starting to get cocky."
Kroll nodded, almost imperceptibly, as if well used to a maximum conversational economy. "There's been a lot of reorganization," he said tersely. "Big changes, cutting down. Construction's taking a back seat now. Security is head department."
Marshall said nothing, pensively considering this. "Who's in charge?" he asked.
Kroll shook his head. His hard face flickered bonily; something reminiscent of a chuckle rasped out. "R.H., the boss himself." He was eying Deborah up and down with interest, and she backed away from him slightly. Kroll broke off and glanced around the office. "Let's get a move on, eh?" he added curtly.
Marshall carried the suitcase over to the desk, noting the change in Kroll's manner. "Good idea," he agreed. "Thanks for all the news. By the way, what department are you in now? Security? I take it you've been promoted."
Kroll nodded, watching Marshall without a hint of deference. He moved toward the outer door, jerked a thumb in the direction of the corridor. "Where do the others hang out? Down on the bottom level?"
"Hold on." Marshall turned to Deborah, took her by the arm and steered her toward the emergency door. "Darling, there's bound to be a little rough stuff here. You go ahead upstairs. Everything will have quieted down by the time we reach you."
The girl hesitated, but Marshall smiled at her. "Believe me, Deborah, I give you my word they'll come with us. See you in a moment."
As she stepped through the doorway, apparently satisfied by his assurance, Marshall turned back to Kroll.
"You stay here. I'll bring them up."
Kroll held his hand on the doorknob, looking over his shoulder at Marshall. The two big men seemed to fill the tiny office.
Kroll raised one shoulder slightly, listening to the sounds of Deborah's feet disappear up the stairway. "Why bother?" he asked laconically. "Fix them down there. Don't want to leave a lot of mess around your office. Somebody might stumble in and find them."
Marshall reached past Kroll, pressed his elbow firmly against Kroil's arm and edged his hand off the knob.
"I'm taking them with me," he said quietly. "We're not fixing them up here or anywhere else." He opened the door, to find it lodged almost immediately against Kroll's black leather boot. Marshall looked down at the steel toecap, placed squarely in his path, then straightened his shoulders and peered hard at Kroll, dull anger pounding in his temples.
"Get away from that door!" he snapped. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?"
He started to lean his shoulder against Kroll's, but Kroll suddenly swung around with his back to the door and slammed it shut with a sharp kick of the other heel.
He eyed Marshall carefully. "Hold it, Marshall. You got your orders from the Tower two minutes ago. R.H. isn't fooling around."
Marshall shook his head. "Listen, Kroll, just shut up and take your orders from me. I'll deal with R.H. when I reach the Tower. Meanwhile I don't want you telling me what to do. I'm taking these three people back with us."
"What for? You'll never get them in. R.H. just sealed out two hundred workers in Construction who've been on the Tower right from the beginning."
Marshall ignored him, was about to seize Kroll's shoulder and wrench him away from the door when there was a tap on the far side of the frosted glass. Kroll dived back, his right hand sliding swiftly into the center vent of his jacket and emerging a fraction of a second later with a heavy.45 automatic, a toy in his enormous fist.
Marshall waved him into the corner behind the door, then opened it to find Symington standing there, blinking in the bright light, dust streaks on his bald domed head.
"Hello, Andrew. What's the problem?" Marshall backed sideways into the office, drawing Symington after him. Kroll was behind the door.
"Sorry to bother you, chief," Symington began to explain. "Crighton heard someone come down the emergency exit and went up to the transport bay. Apparently there's one of those big American-" He broke off, noticing the huge figure of Kroll poised behind him. "What's going-" he began to say, then tried helplessly to back into the corridor as Kroll grabbed him by the shoulder with his left hand and wrenched him back off his feet, his right hand swinging the heavy barrel of the automatic at his head.
The blow had the full lethal power of Kroll's powerful physique behind it. Marshall dived for the gun hand, at the same time seizing Symington by the back of the neck and forcing him to the floor. He and Kroll locked arms and grappled with each other, as Symington struggled at their feet between them. Suddenly they sprang apart. Symington darted quickly through the doorway before the two big men could collect themselves, and slammed it in front of them.
Before Marshall could stop him, Kroll had fired through the frosted glass at the blurring image moving down the corridor. The sound of the shot roared out like an exploding bomb in the confined office. Shattered glass spat against the walls of the corridor. Through the aperture Marshall saw Symington kicked headlong by the force of the bullet, then slammed crookedly onto his face as if flung from a speeding car.