will just take a minute,” said Ebensack apologetically.
“I’m afraid my mind is wandering a bit,” said Holleque. “I have another class to prepare for.” He looked at his watch again as Ebensack opened his notebook and began doodling in it.
“Go ahead,” said the NSA investigator. “I have some notes of my own to write here.”
Colonel Holleque’s face flushed, but Ebensack wasn’t looking at him. Silently, the Colonel opened a file and began to read, but a moment later there were three sharp raps on his office door.
“Come!” snapped Holleque, startling his guest. Rodríguez entered, brown eyes darting back and forth between both men, feeling for a pulse. Ebensack stood up and introduced himself, quickly went over Bauer’s death and why he was investigating it, and that he would have some questions for Rodríguez in the future. The Sergeant listened carefully, and when Ebensack was finished, said, “I understand, sir. The department secretary will give you my schedule.”
“And now we really have other work to do,” said Holleque.
“Of course,” said Ebensack, closing his little notebook and stowing it in a coat pocket. He started towards the door, then turned around and walked to Holleque’s desk, extending his hand. Holleque arose, taking his hand in a firm, dry grip. Ebensack smiled.
“Thanks so very much for your time. I’ll check back in a week or so to see what your students had to say in their reports, and you can leave any messages for me at the president’s office.”
Holleque escorted him to the door, where he turned back once more before leaving.
“Nice to meet you, Sergeant.”
“Yes, sir,” said Rodríguez.
Holleque closed the door gently, strolled back to his desk and sat down, ignoring Rodríguez. He sat there for a moment, chewing a fingernail, and there was a look on his face that Rodríguez had seen before, in a distant desert. It was the look of a man about to go out on night patrol, knowing that before the sun rose again he would likely kill or be killed and the world would not care. It was a dangerous look, and then he heard the Colonel growl something so quietly it was as if he were thinking out loud.
“That motherfucker,” said Holleque, “is going to be a problem.”
* * * * *
Karen went directly to the lab after supper. She hadn’t seen Jack since coffee that morning, and already she missed him. The Eagle Squad drills overshadowed football in Jack’s excitement, and all he ever talked about was the other red berets, weapons, and The Man. They had less time together now, but it was good time, and they were happy with themselves as well as each other. When she looked at her watch it was nearly six. She had promised to meet Jack in the library at seven, and had a thousand things to do before then. She put on a white lab coat and buried herself in a pile of little tasks.
Later, she had locked the lab door and was timing the run of a rat named Morris when the door suddenly rattled with the sound of a key clumsily inserted in the lock. The door knob turned, but the door wouldn’t open. After a moment, there was more rattling, then a soft curse. Karen looked at her stopwatch as Morris neared the end of the labyrinth. “Hold on a second. I’m coming.”
More rattling, more curses, then a pounding on the door. Morris reached the end of his run and gave thought as to which of three levers he could push without getting an electrical shock. His drugged brain didn’t care, so he pushed one at random and nothing happened. Karen clicked off her stopwatch and raced to the door, fumbling it open and stepping back in surprise as Doctor Judith Reimer lurched into the room, quite drunk, and spilled the entire contents of her handbag on the polished laboratory floor.
“Oh, shit,” she muttered, and got down on her hands and knees to clean up the pile of debris. Her heavy overcoat was open, and tears in her pantyhose radiated upwards from her shoes. An unlit cigarette dangled from her lips, flopping up and down as she mumbled to herself. Wind-blown hair hung down over her eyes.
“First the car, then I can’t find my keys, then the door and now this. I think I’ll go back to the bar.” Judith Reimer, Sloan distinguished Professor of Chemistry, groveled around on the floor, picking up cigarettes, lipstick, coins, antacid tablets, bits and pieces of gum and candy wrappers and crumpled Kleenex. She threw everything back into her purse, then paused for a moment on all fours, like some giant frog, breathing deeply. “I think I’m having a panic attack,” she said. “Help me up, please.”
Wordlessly, Karen got her hands under the woman’s arms and hauled her up on shaky feet, depositing her in a chair by the table-top rat labyrinth. Reimer looked at her with rheumy eyes.
“You are a strong kid. Do a lot of wrestling with that jock boyfriend of yours?”
Karen’s eyes narrowed. “Can I get you a glass of water?”
“Sure. And put some bourbon in it.”
Karen filled a glass of water at a sink. Her research advisor teetered a little in her chair, then turned to look at the maze. “Hey, Morris. Look at that little sucker get off on electricity. Go for it, guy.”
“Oh, God, I forgot him,” said Karen. She pushed the water glass at Reimer, then pulled the plug on the labyrinth where Morris, having discovered the electrified lever, was repeatedly shocking himself. She picked up the twitching rat in her hands and deposited him in a small cage while Reimer drank most of the water and splashed the rest of it in her face.
“Oooh, I’ve had just a tad too much tonight. The room is goin’ round and round.” She put a hand to her forehead.
Karen watched Morris staggering around in his little cage, bumping against the wall, body twitching, eyes rolling. “This stuff is bad,” she said. “He’s totally out of it.”
“What’d you give him?”
“The vial marked L5.”
“Well you gave him some good stuff. Right now, if you tell him you want to cut off his paw he’ll hold it out for you. He doesn’t care about anything anymore. Imagine what it would be like if you sprayed an army with that stuff. Hey, I ought to take a shot of it myself.” She laughed, then stared at Karen morosely.
“I guess I don’t feel too good about myself tonight. The booze doesn’t seem to work very well anymore.”
Karen remained silent. Her face felt hot, and her fingers played nervously with a button on her lab coat. Reimer took off her glasses, rubbing both eyes with the heel of her hand.
“Don’t look so stunned, Karen. The old prof drinks too much, that’s all. It’s nothing you’ve said or done. I’m just sick of my work, and this place, and the people who run it, and.… You know, I got to thinking about Jacob again tonight, and he never hurt anyone in his life, and he’s dead, and I’m alive. He has a wife, and I have nobody, and he’s the one who gets killed. No warning. All his yelling in the senate, and for what? Nothing will happen, and if it did the university would fall down, and we’d all be out of a job.”
“I don’t understand any of this, Doctor Reimer.”
“Of course you don’t, and I don’t want you to understand it. Take my advice and find a good job in industry where they don’t change the rules every
