“Just what is it that you do?” Dena asked.
“You’ve probably heard the old wheeze that the government has grown so big and diverse that one department no longer knows what another is doing.”
“I’ve heard it,” Corey said.
“Well, unfortunately, it’s true. And there is a kind of secrecy fetish in some of the agencies that keeps the situation from changing. Sometimes it can lead to expensive duplication of effort and sometimes to dangerous ignorance among different branches of the government as to what’s going on. It’s the job of IDI to keep an eye on what everybody is doing and to try to minimize the problems.”
“How does that concern us?” Dena asked.
“We’ve been watching the action out at Biotron for some time,” Zachry said. “Specifically, we’re curious about some government contracts that people are reluctant to talk about. Some of us have the feeling that there’s more going on out there than it looks like in the official reports.”
“Amen to that,” Dena said.
“So when I heard you two were here with some information, I sent Miss Peters down to see if she could steer you up here.”
“And just how did you know about us?” Corey asked.
Zachry chuckled. “We have a sort of word-of-mouth telegraph in the building that gets the news around faster than the telephones.”
“Then maybe you already know what we came here about,” Dena said.
“Rumors only. I’d like to hear your version.”
Taking turns, Dena and Corey told their story of the events of the past three weeks. Zachry listened intently, nodding now and then. When they had finished, they sat back and looked at the government man.
Finally, Corey spoke. “I hope you’re not going to ask us to fill out some forms.”
“Nope,” Zachry said. “But I am going to ask you to let me work with you.”
“What will that involve?” Dena asked.
“I’d like you, Dr. Falkner, to return to Biotron, keep your eyes open, and let me know everything you can find out. In turn, I’ll fill you in on any reports I get from other sources. Agreeable?”
“So far,” Dena said.
“What about me?” Corey said.
“What were you planning as your next move?”
“I thought I’d go out to Biotron myself, talk to this Dr. Kitzmiller. It looks like he’s the key to what’s going on.”
“You may be right,” Zachry said, “but I’d like you to concentrate for now on following the other angles of the story. Run down what you can on the victims, look for similarities or differences. Hold off a bit on hitting Biotron.”
“Why?”
“If they know they’re under investigation, they’ll be on their guard. With Dr. Falkner on the scene, we’ll know what they’re up to and be ready to move when the time is right.”
“We may not have a lot of time,” Corey said. “If some sort of disease has been released from Biotron, the sooner we know everything about it, the sooner it can be stopped.”
“Quite right,” Zachry said. “I’m not talking about extensive delays. A matter of days at most, to learn as much as we can. Then we can take direct action.”
“Mr. Zachry,” Dena said, “I like your style.”
“Thank you. And since we’re going to be working as a team, how about using first names? I’m Lou.”
“Dena.”
“Corey.”
“Are you two going together?”
“Is that an official question?” Corey asked.
“Nope. Strictly personal. Curious about my teammates.” Zachry nodded toward the photograph. “Divorced myself. My wife didn’t like Washington, for which I can’t blame her. Ten years ago she took my daughter and left.” His eyes clouded for a moment, then quickly refocused.
“We’re not going together,” Corey said. “Not yet.”
Dena shot him a look that Corey pretended not to see.
“None of my business, anyway,” Zachry said. He scribbled a telephone number on two slips of paper and gave one to each of them. “You can get me at this number twenty-four hours a day. Don’t hesitate if anything comes up. Anything at all.”
“What if you want to reach us?” Corey said.
Lou Zachry smiled. “I’m not in intelligence for nothing.”
Chapter 16
Dena Falkner drove back Tuesday evening to the town of Wheeler. She drove slowly, her mind occupied with thoughts of the people and conversations of the past day in Milwaukee. She brought the three men out one at a time on her mental stage to sort out her opinions about them.
Doc Ingersoll was all right in kind of a used-up way. There was an intelligence in the man, and the glimmer of a moral sense. Doc’s trouble was the long years of boozing, and the continuing assault of tars on his lungs may have burned the man out.
The uncomfortable thought made Dena mash out the Carlton she had just lit, low tar or no low tar.
Lou Zachry, the government man, seemed to be sincere in his promise to work with them, but Dena was not completely at ease with government spying agencies. Also, she wondered about Zachry’s reluctance to publicize what they knew so far. He had his reasons, no doubt, but were they the reasons he gave them? All in all, compared with bureaucrats she had known, Zachry was a plus.
Corey Macklin she saved for last. There was no denying he was sharp and energetic, and maybe attractive, if you liked the type. But Dena was not sure she could trust him. He had an overdeveloped streak of machismo, but she could handle that. It was his overdone cynicism and his looking-out-for-number-one attitude that might cause trouble.
So maybe they weren’t the A-Team, but they were better than nothing, and nothing was what Dena had going in. She would have to make the best of it.
The little house where she lived looked good to Dena after the restless night in the Beddie-Bye Motel. She heated a can of Campbell’s vegetable soup, read the newspaper, and found she was exhausted. She climbed gratefully into her own bed and slept straight through until the alarm woke her at seven-thirty.
She showered, breakfasted, and felt fine until she drove into the Biotron parking lot and a sense of foreboding began to build. It did not feel like the same place where she had worked more or less contentedly for the past two years. Somehow the neat white buildings had an ominous look. The people walking on the paths between buildings all seemed bent on some sinister mission.
She parked the car and told herself to cut out the fantasizing. It did not help, however, to see that there was an unfamiliar man at the guard post where she entered. She wondered if Ralph, the regular guard, was one of the plant’s many “flu” victims.
She entered the building not knowing what to expect and was relieved to see that things were almost back to normal. Only a few of the desks were empty that day, the noise level of machines was back up, and in the scattered conversations there was an occasional stutter of laughter. Almost normal. And yet something was not right.
Dena was greeted as she came in by half a dozen people, some of whom had been among the missing on Monday. She looked at them closely for any sign of illness but saw little. She stopped Jimmy Lohnes, the PR chief, as he emerged from his office, looking none the worse for his sick day.
“Welcome back,” she said.
“Thanks. I see the place managed to operate reasonably well without me.”
She did not smile. “Jimmy, don’t you think there was something odd about Monday?”
“Odd? How do you mean?”
“So many people being out. And just for one or two days.”
“Were a lot of people out?”
She gave him a rueful grin. “Yeah, but then how could you know? You were one of them.”
He looked around in an exaggerated parody of guilt. “And the plant ran on without all of us. If it happens again, management might start handing out pink slips.”