Rebel in Time

The burglar alarm box was next to the door that led from the garage into the house. The QCIC technician had identified the key for him and told him just what to do. Insert, rotate one full turn clockwise, then remove. He reached up and did just that. The blue light on the front of the box went out. When he left the house he would have to reverse the procedure. He found the correct door key on his second try, unlocked it and was about to pull the door open when he stopped. It was too easy. If McCulloch had anything to hide — wouldn't he take some more precautions than just the burglar alarm?

Troy ran the flashlight along the top of the door, then down the sides. Nothing seemed to be protruding. But it was very easy to leave a small piece of paper jammed into the door, that would fall out when the door was opened. He bent over — and there it was!

A burnt matchstick just under the hinge, its blackened head barely visible. When he opened the door it dropped onto the sill. Very good. He leaned close with the light and saw the tiny groove it had made. It would be going back into that groove when he left.

Then he swung the door wide and let himself in. It was cool and quiet in the hallway. The door at the far end opened into the kitchen.

Troy had all the time in the world.

He was going to use it wisely, taking as long as he needed, rushing nothing. McCulloch would not be home for eight hours at the very least. He was being watched and there would be plenty of time to get out of the house should his routine be changed.

'What I want to do with you, colonel,' Troy said to himself, looking around the room, 'is to find out just what makes you tick.'

He took off his sports jacket and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair, then loosened his collar and tie. The breakfast bar was clean and polished. Troy spread his pocket handkerchief on it, then opened his attaché case and took out the Thermos of coffee. After pouring himself a cup he placed the Thermos on the handkerchief. He sipped and looked around.

Very GI. The place was clean as a BOQ. It should be, considering the fact that McCulloch had been in the military most of his life. From VMI he had gone right into the Army. A clean record, plenty of combat experience, a good soldier. Then OCS — and on to a lifetime career. It showed. Breakfast dishes rinsed and drying on the draining-board. Even the frying pan washed and put away. Eggs and bacon for breakfast, shells and wrapper in the otherwise empty garbage can. Milk, butter, more eggs, bread, unopened sixpack in the refrigerator.

Slowly and carefully, Troy went through the rest of the house. Room by room. There was a desk in the living-room, but all of the drawers were locked. That would require special attention later. Some magazines in the rack next to the couch. Army and sports magazines, some well-thumbed copies of Newsweek and the Reader's Digest. A few shelves of books. Old texts and military manuals from OCS. Some newer ones still in their dustjackets. Popular novels, engineering texts, some historical studies, 'a guide to western ski resorts. He wanted a record of the titles to look at later.

One thing about QCIC, they had some interesting gadgets. The small Japanese camera was completely electronic. Instead of film it recorded pictures on an electronic card — up to ten exposures a second. It could also be adjusted to any range of visible or invisible light. He set it now to ultraviolet. The UV flashgun emitted only a weak blue glow that he could see. It was a brilliant flash to the camera. He photographed the spines of all the books, then stowed the camera away again.

It was in the main bedroom upstairs, under the rug beside the double bed, that he found the inset panel. The floor was made of polished oak boards and the wooden panel had been set into them, flush on all sides. There was a small indentation on one edge that his finger just fitted into. When he pulled, the panel opened like a door on its concealed hinges. Set into concrete beneath it was a combination safe.

'Now isn't that nice,' he said, rubbing his hands together in appreciation. 'A really big one. Too big just for his medals and cheque-books. It would be very interesting to find out just what it does contain.'

He used the phone beside the bed to dial Kelly's number. It was picked up on the first ring.

'Harmon here. I've found a floor safe, a large one. I wonder if you can help me.'

'That's very interesting. I'm sure that we can. Did you notice what make it is?'

'Yes. An Atlas Executive. No keyholes. No hinges visible. A single dial with numbers running up to ninety-nine.'

'Very good. We'll have someone there in under an hour.'