desk. The chief said, “Obviously, we will do everything in our power to find General Harris. We’ve set up security stations on roads in and out of town. We’ve blocked off the airport.
“You can leave, of course, but the runways are closed, and we’re scanning for transports.
“Per Pentagon regulations, we haven’t allowed extra-atmospheric travel in or out of the New Olympian Territories at all. We’ve got boats patrolling the coastline. If somebody has General Harris, they won’t get far.”
“Do you think it was a kidnapping?” asked Watson.
Freeman sat in his chair mute and menacing, a giant wedged into a chair meant for a normal-sized man. He kept his legs out front, arched up and bent at the knees. His hands, wrists, and half his forearms extended beyond the armrests. His thickly muscled legs and broad torso blocked any view of the chair on which he sat.
“Had to have been. You were there when my techs analyzed the blood samples. The general lost a lot of blood. Best-case scenario, General Harris was ambulatory when he left the hotel room. He might not have been conscious at all.”
“What do you think happened?” Watson asked, pretending that he didn’t consider Story an incompetent bureaucrat.
“It seems pretty clear. Somebody sent in a team of commandos. They waited until Harris was in the shower, then they tried to kidnap him. Harris put up a fight, but he lost.
“My guess is that they sent two men into the bathroom with two more waiting in the hotel room. Harris killed the first two in the bathroom. He killed the third outside the door, then the fourth one got him, probably shot him, judging by the blood. What happened next is anyone’s guess.”
“How would they have slipped him out of the hotel?” asked Watson.
Story leaned back in his chair, rested his hands on his chest, laced his fingers as if saying a prayer. He thought about the question for several seconds. “That’s the big question, now, isn’t it? How do you sneak a dying man out of a hotel?
“If he’s dying or dead, or maybe just unconscious, you could place him in a case of some kind. That would conceal him. You could drop him in a laundry basket. You could shove him down a trash chute. We checked the trash. It was clean.
“We’ve searched the building, of course. The easiest answer is to hang a DO NOT DISTURB sign and leave your victim tucked into bed. We’ve checked every room in the hotel.”
Watson smiled, and said, “It sounds as if you have all the bases covered.”
“We’re trying. We’re giving this one everything we have.”
“I guess that’s everything for now,” said Watson.
“Are you flying back to Washington?” asked Story.
Before Watson could answer, Freeman stood. Mark Story stood. Watson followed, realizing that the meeting had ended.
Story said, “We’ll notify you the moment we find something.”
One of the policemen appeared at the door and asked Story if he could speak to him. The police chief apologized and left the room.
“Why do you want them to think we’re flying back to Washington?” Watson asked.
Speaking in a voice that was more reverberation than whisper, Freeman said, “Because smart cockroaches only come out when you leave the room.”
CHAPTER
NINE
As he and Freeman left the police station, Watson asked, “What do we do now?”
The sun still shone in the sky, but evening had begun, and the day’s heat had turned mild. Night wouldn’t come for a couple of hours, but the day had ended.
Ahead of them, the streets were nearly empty. The New Olympians had not come with fleets of cars or trucks. The only vehicles they had were the ones the Enlisted Man’s Empire had given them.
Freeman said, “We’re going to the spaceport.”
“So we’re leaving,” said Watson.
“You’re leaving,” said Freeman.
“What about you?”
“I’m staying.”
The police station was located in the center of what had been an abandoned downtown. Steel shutters
“You can leave, of course, but the runways are closed, and we’re scanning for transports.
“Per Pentagon regulations, we haven’t allowed extra-atmospheric travel in or out of the New Olympian Territories at all. We’ve got boats patrolling the coastline. If somebody has General Harris, they won’t get far.”
“Do you think it was a kidnapping?” asked Watson.
Freeman sat in his chair mute and menacing, a giant wedged into a chair meant for a normal-sized man. He kept his legs out front, arched up and bent at the knees. His hands, wrists, and half his forearms extended beyond the armrests. His thickly muscled legs and broad torso blocked any view of the chair on which he sat.
“Had to have been. You were there when my techs analyzed the blood samples. The general lost a lot of blood. Best-case scenario, General Harris was ambulatory when he left the hotel room. He might not have been conscious at all.”
“What do you think happened?” Watson asked, pretending that he didn’t consider Story an incompetent bureaucrat.
“It seems pretty clear. Somebody sent in a team of commandos. They waited until Harris was in the shower, then they tried to kidnap him. Harris put up a fight, but he lost.
“My guess is that they sent two men into the bathroom with two more waiting in the hotel room. Harris killed the first two in the bathroom. He killed the third outside the door, then the fourth one got him, probably shot him, judging by the blood. What happened next is anyone’s guess.”
“How would they have slipped him out of the hotel?” asked Watson.
Story leaned back in his chair, rested his hands on his chest, laced his fingers as if saying a prayer. He thought about the question for several seconds. “That’s the big question, now, isn’t it? How do you sneak a dying man out of a hotel?
“If he’s dying or dead, or maybe just unconscious, you could place him in a case of some kind. That would conceal him. You could drop him in a laundry basket. You could shove him down a trash chute. We checked the trash. It was clean.
“We’ve searched the building, of course. The easiest answer is to hang a DO NOT DISTURB sign and leave your victim tucked into bed. We’ve checked every room in the hotel.”
Watson smiled, and said, “It sounds as if you have all the bases covered.”
“We’re trying. We’re giving this one everything we have.”
“I guess that’s everything for now,” said Watson.
“Are you flying back to Washington?” asked Story.
Before Watson could answer, Freeman stood. Mark Story stood. Watson followed, realizing that the meeting had ended.
Story said, “We’ll notify you the moment we find something.”
One of the policemen appeared at the door and asked Story if he could speak to him. The police chief apologized and left the room.
“Why do you want them to think we’re flying back to Washington?” Watson asked.
Speaking in a voice that was more reverberation than whisper, Freeman said, “Because smart cockroaches only come out when you leave the room.”
CHAPTER
NINE
As he and Freeman left the police station, Watson asked, “What do we do now?”
The sun still shone in the sky, but evening had begun, and the day’s heat had turned mild. Night wouldn’t come for a couple of hours, but the day had ended.
Ahead of them, the streets were nearly empty. The New Olympians had not come with fleets of cars or trucks. The only vehicles they had were the ones the Enlisted Man’s Empire had given them.
Freeman said, “We’re going to the spaceport.”
“So we’re leaving,” said Watson.
“You’re leaving,” said Freeman.
“What about you?”
“I’m staying.”
The police station was located in the center of what had been an abandoned downtown. Steel shutters
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