The Mammoth Book of Historical Crime Fiction

Lieberman told Maccabee that he’d been suspicious of Strauss for some time. He was a good worker, a talented and intelligent man, but he had a habit of poking through other people’s files. He often carried work home with him. That wasn’t a bad trait in itself. But he tended to overdo it.

Didn’t he have any private life? Maybe he did, but, if so, he didn’t share it with anyone. Everybody else at Sapphire-MacNeese seemed to have family photos on their desks: pictures of themselves on vacation, evidence of hobbies. Not Richard Strauss.

Still, there was nothing there that shouldn’t be. Only it seemed that, beyond his slide-rule and his drawing board, Richard Strauss wasn’t even there.

Jacob Maccabee said that he’d warned Lieberman to keep an eye out for anything that seemed suspicious today, especially unexpected visitors. But, speaking of visitors, would he arrange a set of passes for Caligula Foxx and companions.

* * *

A uniformed guard checked a sheet of foolscap on a clipboard, asked to see identification, and waved the Packard through the gate. Andy Winslow pulled the big car up to a visitors’ spot and they all climbed out.

“Uh-oh!” Winslow grabbed Caligula Foxx’s elbow. He pointed. “Take a gander at that!”

Foxx followed Winslow’s pointing finger. “Yes, what is it, Andy? Confound you, what am I supposed to be looking at?”

Winslow ran half a dozen steps to a dark-coloured LaSalle coupé. It might or might not have been snowed upon in the past few days, but it was spotlessly clean now, sparkling in the bright sunlight of a December morning.

In the corner of the LaSalle’s rear window was a sticker. It depicted an American eagle, a cluster of lightning bolts in one claw and a swastika in the other.

“Konrad beat us here, Caligula.”

“All right. Let’s get on with this.” Fox turned. “Jacob, are you ready? You and Miss Schmidt? Your friend Lieberman is expecting us? Right, then into the lion’s den we go!”

* * *

The Sapphire-MacNeese Aircraft Company loomed like a grey rectangle against the bright blue sky. A smartly dressed receptionist asked them to wait while she phoned Dr Lieberman. The reception area was decorated with oversized photographs of past Sapphire-MacNeese aeroplanes. There were single-engined pursuit craft, both open-cockpit biplanes and streamlined closed-cockpit monoplanes. There were also a couple of bombers — huge, lumbering, four-engined aerial behemoths. There was even a modern airliner, silvery and glistening, that looked as if it could give the latest Boeing and Douglas models a run for their money.

Aaron Lieberman arrived and shook hands all around. He was red-haired and freckle-faced. He looked more like a schoolboy than one of the leading aviation designers of the era. He put his arm around Jacob Maccabee’s shoulders. “Mr MacNeese is in town this week, Jake. I’ll introduce you. Mr Foxx, I know he’s heard of you. He’ll be thrilled to meet the famous detective.”

Maccabee said, “I’ve told my friends about your little robot flier, Aaron. I know they’d like to see it.”

Lieberman said, “We need to talk about that. Come on, this will only take a little time.”

He led the way to a conference room. When they entered they were confronted by a pair of uniformed figures, one in the heavy forest-green outfit of an army major, the other in the dark blue of a navy captain. A third man, wearing civilian garb, was also present. The newcomers were ushered to seats at a polished table. The naval officer promptly took charge of the meeting.

“Mr Foxx, Mr Winslow, Mr Maccabee, Miss Schmidt,” the captain nodded to each in turn. “I’m afraid there has been a serious breach of security. I’m not blaming Dr Lieberman or anyone else here at Sapphire-MacNeese. Oh, I don’t suppose you know Mr Carter MacNeese. It’s his company.” He allowed himself a small, rather icy smile.

“Dr Lieberman has confessed that he took home a test model of the OR-X1. That he actually demonstrated it to at least one of you. Ah, Mr Maccabee, I see you’re joining in the confession.”

“I wouldn’t call it a confession,” Maccabee responded. He was angry, that was clear.

Lieberman’s reaction was milder but similar. “I acknowledge that I took it home. I showed it to Mr Maccabee. I wouldn’t use the word confess, though, captain.”

Now Carter MacNeese took a hand. “Captain, I understand that the government wants the OR-X1 kept secret. That is what they want now. And we are implementing every possible precaution to keep this device out of the hands of any potential enemy. But, we started this development on our own; then, there was no government contract. We’ve been offering the OR-X1 to the army and navy for three years. They finally decided they wanted to give us a contract for the device. You can’t hold Dr Lieberman responsible for a breach of security before there was any security to breach!”

They went on that way. By the time the conference broke up there were armed soldiers and sailors patrolling the halls.