The Long Chain

by Dan Willis

  “Sorry, Sorceress,” he said, too tired to be annoying despite the rejuvenator. “I was a little busy yesterday. I do have something that will make your day today, though.”

  There was a long silence and Alex could tell that Sorsha’s basic desire to reprimand him was warring with her need to solve the case of the magical fog.

  “All right,” she said at last. “What is it?”

  “You were right about the fog, it’s definitely not natural.” He launched into a detailed description of locating the fog cluster on the apartment rooftop and how the fog seemed to be attached to the big chimney.

  “That doesn’t make any sense, Alex,” Sorsha said. “Although it would explain why my efforts to move the fog failed.”

  “It also means that someone is doing this on purpose,” Alex said.

  “And what is it they want?” Sorsha picked up on his train of thought and finished it. “Can you try your experiment in some other places around the city?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Alex said. He probably wouldn’t hear back from Detective Hawkins for a few days anyway, and he didn’t have any client meetings until tomorrow.

  “Do that,” she said. “And call me if you learn anything new.”

  Alex promised that he would and hung up. He wasn’t terribly excited about running all over the city, but at least he now knew he only needed two purity runes for the modified finding construct instead of three. It would take him an hour or so to write up the runes and then he could get started.

  He stood and made his way around the desk toward his still open vault but the buzzer on the intercom stopped him.

  “What is it?” he asked once he’d pushed the talk button.

  “Can you come out here?” Leslie asked. “There are some gentlemen here to see you.”

  That was code for possible trouble.

  “I’ll be right out,” he said.

  Moving quickly, Alex closed his vault and picked up his hat, leaving the flask of rejuvenator on his writing table. He checked to make sure his flash ring was in place. He’d used one of its charges but that still left three, more than enough.

  He opened the door to his office and walked out into his reception area. Two large men in blue Navy uniforms stood by Leslie’s desk. They both had flat faces and small, piggish eyes. A white band ran around each man’s left arm with the letters S.P. on it. They reminded Alex of the bouncers he’d seen in low rent bars, the kind that would just as soon start a fight as break one up.

  “You Alex Lockerby?” the one on the left asked.

  Alex plastered a smile on his face.

  “How can I help you gentlemen?” he said in his most genial voice.

  “Admiral Walter Tennon would like to have chat with you,” the other one said. They were so alike, Alex was having trouble telling them apart.

  “Now,” the first one added.

  15

  Interrogation

  The Navy men each grabbed one of Alex’s arms when they reached the street, as if they feared he would suddenly bolt into the fog. They had a car waiting and while the tall one opened the door and moved the seat-back forward, the second man searched Alex for weapons. Satisfied that Alex wasn’t carrying anything more dangerous than his lighter, the shorter man shoved him into the back seat. As soon as he was in, the tall man put the seat-back down and climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Since the car was a coupe, the Navy men had no fear that Alex would be able to flee the car, not that he had any intention to do so. These Navy escorts had said that Admiral Tennon wanted to see him. Tennon was the name of the man who had been paying Leonard Burnham and there was no way that was a coincidence.

  Word had reached the Admiral about Alex’s inquiry very quickly. Either Detective Hawkins had called exactly the right person at the Navy Yard or whatever the SEI was, it was a big deal. Either way, Admiral Tennon was smack in the middle of it and Alex was about to meet him.

  “So, what does SP stand for?” Alex asked after ten minutes of riding in silence.

  “Shore Patrol,” the shorter of the two said.

  “So, what?” Alex went on. “You guys are Navy cops?”

  “Shut up,” the taller man said.

  Alex shrugged.

  “Just making conversation, boys,” Alex said, sitting back in his seat and pulling out his cigarette case. “It’s likely to be a long ride with all this fog.”

  Neither of the men answered, so Alex just smoked in silence. The Navy Yard was quite a bit north of his office, but with a car it should only have taken twenty minutes or so. An hour later, the shore patrol car pulled up to the gate. Two armed sailors stood blocking the road and they stayed where they were while a third man came out of a guard house to speak to the Shore Patrol men. Alex expected it to be a short conversation; after all, who would hassle Navy cops?

  As it turned out, the gate guard grilled the driver on who he was, where he’d gone in the city, who Alex was, and why they were bringing him on base. The Navy cops even had to show their identification cards and the gate guard wrote their names down on his clipboard. After a full ten-minutes of interrogation, the guard waved them through and the armed men at the gate stepped aside.

  “You boys always this formal?” Alex asked. He was sure they wouldn’t answer, but he wanted to see how they’d react. The Navy cops looked at each other, somewhat pointedly, but said nothing.

  Alex had never been to the Navy Yard before. Several of his cases had involved Navy personnel, but he’d always managed to do his surveillance or interviews out in the city. He knew that the Navy built ships here, but that was about it. The military life wasn’t one that appealed to him. If nothing else, he had a hard time getting up at six in the morning.

  The tall sailor stopped the car in front of a low building that had been constructed out of corrugated metal and painted some shade of tan. It didn’t look very solidly constructed considering the whole purpose of this installation was to build things.

  “Out,” the tall sailor ordered, once he’d pulled the seat up for Alex.

  The sign on the building said, Brig. Alex knew that was the Navy word for jail, but it didn’t look like this place could hold a stiff breeze.

  His escorts took Alex by the arms again and led him inside, past a desk with a bored-looking sailor with a matching SP armband. They deposited him in a tiny room with a plain table and a chair on either side. There was no label on the door, but Alex knew an interrogation room when he saw one.

  “Sit,” the short sailor said. “Someone will be here in a minute.”

  Alex knew that for the lie it always was. Word of Detective Hawkins’ call had somebody rattled. They’d pushed back and found out where Hawkins heard of the SEI and that led them to Alex. Right now he was the last link in that chain and whoever had the other end of it would want to make sure he was nervous and disoriented before asking any questions.

  The Navy cop closed the door and Alex heard a latch being secured on the other side. The room was a plain box with no other openings. Recently the interrogation rooms in the Central Office had been outfitted with one-way mirrors so that suspects could be observed before and even during questioning. This room, however, had nothing.

  Alex chuckled. He had a momentary thought of pulling out his chalk and waiting for the inevitable questioning in the comfort of his vault, but if he did that, he’d almost have to let whoever came through the door inside. He did not want the Navy poking around his rune books and supplies, or his gun cabinet. What he needed was a special vault with a comfy chair, a few books, and a bottle of cheap liquor, nothing he’d miss if it were stripped bare. It was a great idea, but unfortunately runewrights could only have one vault at a time, so if he wanted his own, portable waiting room, he’d have to give up the vault he had — and he wasn’t about to do that.

  Lighting a cigarette, Alex sat down on the far side of the table so he could see the door and put his feet up. He’d smoked through three of his cigarettes by the time the door opened.
A fat man in a Navy officer’s coat came in, reading something in an open file folder he held. He had blond hair, cut short, with large, watery eyes and a round face.

  “Alexander Lockerby,” he read. “Get your feet off my table.”

  Alex pulled his feet down and sat up as the man sat down.

  “Thirty-three years old,” he continued reading. “Became a private investigator in twenty-eight, you frequently work with the New York Police, and you’ve become quite the darling of the tabloids.”

  “I’m also a Sagittarius,” Alex said. “In case you were wondering.”

  The man finally looked up at Alex. He seemed soft, probably because of his weight, but his eyes had steel in them.

  “You’re a funny guy, Mr. Lockerby,” he said. “But as you might notice, I’m not laughing. You see, you’re in a lot of trouble right now, and whether or not you get thrown in a holding cell as a guest of the Navy is entirely up to me.”

  Alex had no interest in spending time in a Navy jail, but he wasn’t about to let this uniformed marshmallow intimidate him.

  “And just who might you be?” he asked, cradling his chin in his hand, his face a mask of mock interest.

  “I’m Lieutenant Commander Vaughn,” he said.

  Alex wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded important.

  “I’m one of three people on Earth who’s ever heard of the SEI,” he continued. “Imagine my surprise when I got a call today from one of my officers telling me that a New York detective wanted to know what the SEI was. Then I learn that the detective heard about the SEI from you.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t be too surprised,” Alex said, not bothering to suppress a grin. “I’m the kind of guy who knows lots of things he shouldn’t.”

  Vaughn glared at him and Alex worried he might have pushed the man too hard. He wanted answers, which meant he’d keep Alex here until he got them, unless he believed Alex was a dead end. If that happened, he’d either throw Alex out or into a cell. Either way, Alex would lose the only lead he had on what Dr. Burnham was working on. If he could push Vaughn a bit, though, keep him talking, he might let something slip, but Alex needed him off his game for that to work.

  “What do you know about Shade Tree?” Vaughn asked.

  The question caught Alex by surprise. He hadn’t expected the Lieutenant Commander to be direct with any of his questions. Apparently he was playing the same game with Alex.

  “I know someone named Admiral Tennon is paying Dr. Leonard Burnham to work on it,” Alex said.

  Vaughn sat perfectly still as Alex spoke, but his eyes widened ever so slightly. He was surprised to hear that.

  “Shade Tree is a top secret Navy project,” he said. “Just knowing about it is a crime. I could have you arrested right now as a spy.”

  Alex laughed.

  “No, you couldn’t,” he said. Vaughn’s face hardened, but Alex held up his hand before the man could speak. “First,” he said. “Whatever Shade Tree is, it isn’t an official Navy project.” Vaughn’s expression grew hard, but Alex rushed on. “Because if it was, Burnham wouldn’t be working on it in his garage, it would be here under heavy guard.”

  “Even if you’re right, I can still have you arrested.”

  Alex gave him a steady look.

  “If you could have me charged with anything, you’d have arrested me before we met, and you’d be using those potential charges to bludgeon answers out of me.”

  That shut Vaughn up. He closed the open folder and glared at Alex. The look was pure venom.

  Time to stop being an ass and turn on the charm.

  “Now that we all know where we stand, Lieutenant Commander, how about you ask me your questions and then I have a few for you.”

  Vaughn’s look didn’t soften, and he held Alex’s gaze for a long moment.

  “Where is Seaman Tyler McCormick?” he said at last.

  Alex shook his head.

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Where is Dr. Burnham?”

  “At home.”

  “Then why can’t I reach him on the phone?”

  “He was attacked four days ago,” Alex explained. “Whoever did it hit him over the head.”

  “Is he alive?”

  Alex nodded and explained about Karen hiring him and finding Dr. Burnham in the soup kitchen.

  “If he’s lost his memory,” Vaughn said, giving Alex a very skeptical look, “then how do you know about the SEI?”

  “Because I found a receipt in Burnham’s workshop,” Alex said. “A bank draft from Admiral Tennon out of an account labeled SEI. Since only the Navy has admirals, it was a cinch to trace it back here.”

  Vaughn stared at Alex hard as if trying to read the truth by staring through him. Finally he nodded and stood and picked up the folder from the desk.

  “Wait here,” he said.

  “Hey,” Alex protested. “Don’t you want to know about Burnham’s motor?”

  Vaughn looked up a little too quickly.

  “What about a motor?”

  “You first,” Alex said. “What’s the SEI?”

  “It’s classified,” Vaughn said. Then he turned and walked out, shutting the door behind him.

  Alex sighed. It had been worth a try, but he still wasn’t any further along than he had been. Worse, now that the Navy knew about Burnham, they’d be throwing up roadblocks to keep Alex away. He didn’t really care what Burnham had been doing for the Navy, but he did want to find out who had bludgeoned the old man. He wanted to find them and bring them to justice for Karen, and for Leonard.

  He still had a few clues. The paper with the word polymer on it might mean something to Burnham’s former colleagues at Dow. Burnham had lived in that house of his for years, so his old office must be in the city somewhere. Alex resolved to find it as soon as Vaughn and his flunkies let him out.

  Alex smoked another cigarette, but there was no sign of Vaughn returning. He might be trying to sweat Alex some more, but Alex doubted it. They’d both shown that they knew how the game was played. Vaughn wouldn’t believe that Alex would be intimidated like that. Still, there was the Admiral. Since he signed Dr. Burnham’s bank draft, he was probably the one in charge of whatever SEI was. Vaughn would likely have to report to him before he could do anything with Alex. If the Admiral was anything like the president of a company, it might be hours before Vaughn could get in to see him.

  Alex folded his arms on the desk and put his head down. It had been too long since he had any of the rejuvenator and he was starting to feel a bit fuzzy. Within a minute he was asleep.

  The door to the interrogation room opened with a boom, startling Alex awake. Normally he would have leapt to his feet at such a noise, but he was woozy and slow to respond.

  He really needed a shot of the rejuvenator, which was still in his vault.

  “All right, you,” the tall Shore Patrolman growled. “On your feet.”

  Alex had no idea how much time had passed, but he had managed to drool on his shirt cuff, so it had been a while. He stood up and picked up his hat.

  “Where to now?” he asked, finally managing to get his brain in gear.

  The man didn’t answer, but when Alex left the little room, he didn’t grab his arm like before.

  “This way,” he said, marching off down the hall.

  Alex followed without much caring where they were going. At the door to the brig, they were met by the tall sailor’s shorter companion, who took up a position behind Alex as they went through the door. Together they crossed the parking lot and went down past a row of round-topped quonset huts to a wooden building that looked just as shoddily constructed as the brig had been.

  Once inside, Alex was conducted to a small waiting area where a thin, handsome man in an officer’s uniform sat behind a desk. He had sharp features, blue eyes, and dark hair that he kept slicked back. His mouth curled up in a perpetual half smile as if he were trying to be charming and amused all at the same time.

  “This is him,
Lieutenant,” the short one said.

  “Take a seat,” the lieutenant said as the shore patrol twins left.

  The waiting room had a row of metal chairs, but Alex worried if he sat down, he might fall asleep again. The handsome lieutenant picked up the phone and dialed a single number.

  “He’s here,” he said after a moment. “Yes, sir.”

  The lieutenant put the receiver down and looked up at Alex.

  “It’ll be just a minute,” he said.

  “What will?” Alex asked, still not sure what he was doing here. Was this Vaughn’s office?

  “Until they’re ready for you,” the man said as if that explanation made all the sense in the world.

  Alex stuck out his hand.

  “I’m Alex,” he said.

  The lieutenant looked confused for a moment, then shook Alex’s hand.

  “Lieutenant Randall Leavitt,” he said. “Aide to Admiral Tennon.”

  So, this was the Admiral’s office. He must really have made an impression on Vaughn.

  “What does an Admiral’s Aide do?” Alex asked, trying to keep his weary brain in motion.

  Lieutenant Leavitt shrugged.

  “I keep the Admiral’s appointment book, arrange his communication and travel, lock things in the safe,” he said. “It’s mostly just logistics.”

  Alex nodded sagely at that as if it were remotely interesting.

  “Do you travel with him?”

  The lieutenant looked confused but nodded.

  “Yes,” he said. “I handle his bags and papers when he travels and such. Why did you ask?”

  Alex pointed at the floor by the Lieutenant’s desk. A small duffle bag was sticking out from underneath with the cuff of a shirt sticking out of it.

  “Oh,” Leavitt said, bending down to stuff the errant sleeve back into the bag. “That’s my emergency travel bag. Sometimes the Admiral has to go to Washington on short notice.”

  Alex had lived out of a suitcase for most of his childhood, so he understood being ready to move. Leavitt sat down at his desk and began going through a stack of papers, so Alex started to wander around the room.