"Not to Sam Allen. He said he would be in Washington next week at a meeting that included Hawk Elliott. I suggested he go right to Judge Marshall. He weaseled a bit, said there was protocol involved. You know the British. But he indicated he would work something out."
"These Bulgarians," Burke said, toying with an ominous prospect, "do you think they might show up over here?"
"The same thought occurred to me," she said. "Whoever is running this, if he thinks we're onto something, wouldn't you call in the trusted troops?"
"Right. Which means we've not only got the CIA on our backs, but maybe these other characters as well."
"I mentioned that to Uncle Sydney, asked if he would send me copies of the pictures they showed the lab man."
"Smart move. What did he say?"
"He's terribly straight-laced about rules and regulations. They're classified, of course. I pointed out that I could be in personal danger. He agreed it was a possibility, said he would give it serious thought and call me when he gets to town next Tuesday."
She had not been overtly involved in anything except a few discreet inquiries in Washington.
"I wouldn't worry too much about it," Burke said. "Just be careful. Maybe something will show up in these photos in the morning." His tone, however, didn't convey much hope.
"I'll be in Fantasyland, as you called it, most of the day tomorrow. I'm making client calls. I also have a dinner date with the man who heads a major association I'm trying to land as a client.
"I'm jealous," Burke said.
She laughed. "You'd better be. Incidentally, you can call me tomorrow night at our branch office on Pennsylvania Avenue. That's one place I'm sure Hawk Elliott hasn't tampered with." Then her voice sobered. "You'd also better remember your promise."
When Lori returned to the table, Walt Brackin arched an eyebrow. "Good news or bad?"
She gave him a pained smile. "I'm finding it increasingly difficult to distinguish between the two."
Chloe was an attractive woman with a natural wit and charm that sometimes hid her quick mind. "Come on, Doll," she said, "level with us. What's going on?"
Lori was well aware of the depth of her friend's understanding. She looked from Chloe to Walt, their troubled expressions evidence of the anxiety they felt for her. Burke probably would have counseled against it; maybe it wasn't right, and maybe it wasn't fair to them, but she couldn't keep sweeping things under the table. "You may hate me in the morning," she said with a slight grin, "but when we get back to your place, I'm going to unload on you."
Chapter 35
Kevin McKenzie had told Burke to come over around nine. When he arrived, the secretary said her boss had been in the building since seven o'clock and was now in his office, as excited as a new father. A grinning McKenzie motioned him over to the outsized desk, which was now covered with a photomontage of greatly enlarged prints.
Burke stared in awe. The detail was unbelievable. There was the outline of the whole island, distorted a bit because of the camera angle. But the buildings showed up in significant detail, beyond the broad sweep of the landing strip. Jeffries' Cherokee appeared to be tied down at one end of the paved ribbon. Anchored at the beach back of the buildings was the hollowed out hulk of the landing craft. Near the runway sat a truck and a smaller vehicle, with several figures clustered around. He counted seven people. A formidable force for a lone invader, he realized. Across the island from them, a small cloud hovered above the sand. He guessed it was smoke. There seemed to be something scattered around the area beneath it.
"What do you think?" McKenzie asked.
"Fantastic!" Burke said. "If we could just figure out what's going on down there."
McKenzie lifted the phone and pressed a button. "Tell Buddy to come in here," he said. Turning back, he added, "These were made going down. He's still working on the shots from the other side."
Burke stared. "Look, you can make out those people plain as day. Too bad we can't blow up their faces."
"That would probably be asking a little too much. But he says he can still enlarge these more."
Just then Buddy Bottelli walked in. He carried a magnifying viewer in his hand.
"What can you tell us about this?" McKenzie asked.
Bottelli bent his short body over the desk. With his large head and the magnifying glass, he looked like a wizened owl contemplating dinner on the landscape below. "You saw the eight men, I guess."
"Eight?" Burke said with a frown. "I only counted seven."
"Did you count the one in the Jeep?"
Burke grinned. "I didn't even know it was a Jeep."
"Yeah, that's definite. The truck is interesting. I haven't figured it out yet. There's a round opening in the roof toward the back. The rear has a bed like a pickup, with some sort of mechanism, like a hydraulic jack."
"Maybe it's a place to hook a large trailer," Burke said.
"Possibly."
"What's over here?" He pointed to the cloud.
"That's smoke." Buddy placed the viewer over the photo. "I'd say there was an explosion. Looks like blown apart pieces of wood lying around. A nice big hole in the sand."
"What can you tell us about the buildings?" McKenzie asked.
"Well, I'd say this one was living quarters."
"Why?"
"Looks like laundry hanging out, for one thing. There's also some lounge chairs at one side."
"Lounge chairs?" Burke said.
"Yeah. Those rectangular things there. You can tell a little better through the viewer."
Burke took a look. Sure enough, they had the shape of lounge chairs. "What are the other buildings?"
"This one must be an office, or communications center. Has a radio antenna, lots of wires running into it. This here's the mess hall. That's a stovepipe for a cook stove. Over here we have some kind of workshop."
"Machine shop, maybe?" Burke asked.
"I believe you're right. Has the profile of a machine shop. Back behind it, keeping the noise away from the living area, is the power generator. Looks like a big diesel-powered job. That would supply plenty of machinery, in addition to the lights. And here's something interesting. They have a chain of solar panels, spaced probably a hundred yards apart all the way around, just back of the tree line near the shore. They're mounted on small structures that probably house storage batteries."
Burke looked around at him. "You mean they're charging the batteries with solar power?"
"Exactly. With all the sun they get, it would create enough power to run a circuit around the perimeter of the island. Could be used at night for a lighting system."
"How about a perimeter security system?"
"I'm not an expert on that, but it sounds logical. There's something else. I don't know if it's related. Spots along the shoreline, back from the beach, where the water has apparently eroded the sand. You can see a dark line that disappears. Like something buried beneath the sand. In a few spots you can see two strips a few feet apart. It probably wouldn't be noticeable on the ground."
A detection device of some sort, Burke wondered? He'd have to talk with someone more knowledgeable on the subject.
Buddy advised that he was about finished with the prints from the photo run on the east side of the island. He left, but a few minutes later he called them back to a room off the lab, where the prints were spread out on a large table. Mostly they confirmed what had been seen on the other photos, but in this case the Jeep and four men were at the site of the smoke, examining debris from what had surely been an explosion. A test of the "device," Burke assumed. The other four stood near the truck. Buddy had made a blow-up of this portion even larger than the rest. He laid it in front of them.
"The film grain leaves it pretty fuzzy," he said, "but you can determine some things about them. This one back here is evidently the cook. See his hat and apron?"