Rebel in Time

'Everything,' she said, suddenly just as worried as he was. 'We'll go to my office. I have his home address there.'

Troy dialled the number and let it ring. And with each unanswered ring in the distant room he felt the tension in his midriff grow. The address was in Bethesda, not too far away: he had to get over there. He hunched up his shoulder to hold the phone in place against his ear while he dug the police detective's card out of his wallet.

'No answer?' Roxanne asked.

'No. Do you have a company car I can use?'

'There's a panel truck and a station wagon…'

'The station wagon, if you please.'

He pressed down the button and disconnected, then quickly dialled the number on the business card.

'Hello. I'd like to talk to Lieutenant Anderson. This is Lieutenant Harmon. He isn't? Can you reach him on the radio? Good. Please have him call me at this number. Urgent. It may relate to the Connecticut Avenue murders.'

Anderson called back within the minute and, without asking any embarrassing questions, agreed to meet Troy at the Chevy Chase address.

It took an effort of will for Troy to hold the wagon down to a steady 55 along the Beltway. He turned off at Exit 33 and looked at the street names. Just after the country club was the street sign for Black Thorn. When he turned the corner he saw the police car waiting up ahead. He pulled up behind it just as Lieutenant Anderson was getting out.

'What is it about?' Anderson asked.

'I was out at the lab where McCulloch headed security. One of the key employees didn't show up for work today. Doesn't answer the phone. It may have something to do with the colonel.'

'Then again it may not. Can you tell me anything more?'

'Frankly — no. Except this is top security, top priority work.'

'I'll take your word for it. But we can't go kicking doors down just on suspicion.' He looked up at the old apartment building. 'Is the man married?' Troy shook his head no.

'Single. And lives alone.'

'Then if he doesn't answer when we ring his bell we can suspect illness or accident and we have sufficient grounds to ask the super to open up for us.'

The superintendent was unshaven and surly and had obviously just woken up.

'Whatcha wanna see him for?'

'We don't want to see him,' Anderson explained patiently. 'We are just investigating a missing persons report. All you have to do is unlock the door, then stay with us when we go inside.'

The man didn't want to co-operate, but Anderson's gold badge was a powerful persuader. Muttering under his breath the superintendent led them to the elevator. Not only hadn't he shaved, but he hadn't bothered to wash as well. They were greatly relieved when the door opened on the fifth floor. The large ring of keys rattled and jangled and the super cursed as he searched for the right one. When he finally had the door open, Anderson went in first. The curtains were drawn and all of the lights were on.

'Mr Harper,' he called out. 'Are you home?' There was no answer. 'Troy, stay here with the super while I look around.'

They watched in silence while he went across the living-room and glanced into the bedroom. Pushing the door open with his toe, touching nothing. It must have been empty because he turned away and started towards the kitchen. He stopped at the door, looked in, then turned away and came back, fishing into his pocket as he walked. He,took out one of his cards and handed it to the superintendent.

'Call this number,' he said. 'Ask for Detective Sergeant Lindberg. Read my name off the card and tell him where we are. Tell him that I want the homicide unit.'

'Listen, I got my work to do. You want me to make phone calls…' Then the meaning of the words penetrated. The super opened his eyes wide and stepped back, then turned and hurried away.

'Dead?' Troy asked.

'Very. Come look and see.'

Allan Harper was sprawled on his back on the kitchen floor. A broken glass lay shattered on the linoleum beside him; the milk it had contained had puddled and dried under his head. His eyes were wide open and staring, his mouth gaping in a soundless cry of pain.

'What is it — what killed him?' Troy asked. Anderson shrugged.

'No sign of wounds or a weapon. We'll find out soon enough. Is this case going rotten on you?'

'You could say that. Which makes it vitally important that I find out if this man had any connection with McCulloch. I'm getting back to the laboratory now. You have the number. Ask for security. Could you let me know as soon as you find out what happened to him?'

'No problem. But I'm going to have to ask you more about the deceased.'

'All right. I'll tell you whatever I can, whatever is not classified. I'm going there to dig out his records now.'

Troy went directly to the security building when he returned, without going near the laboratory. He wanted to get some facts before he answered any more questions. Inside the building there was a restrained feeling of panic. The three girls in the office carefully turned their eyes away from him when he came through the door.