Whistleblower

Sam Polowski didn't answer, he was too busy tracking the footprints across the grass. They led to the sidewalk, then faded into the road's pebbly asphalt.

'Hey!' yelled Milo. 'What's going on?'

Polowski turned. 'I didn't really see him. What did he look like?'

Milo shrugged. 'I dunno. Efrem Zimbalist-type.'

'Meaning?'

'Tall, clean-cut, great build. Typical FBI.'

There was a silence as Milo regarded Polowski's sagging belly.

'Well,' amended Milo, 'maybe not typical...'

'What about his face?'

'Lemme think. Brown hair? Maybe brown eyes?'

'You're not sure.'

'You know how it is. All you white guys look alike to me.'

An eruption of rapid Chinese made them both turn. Mrs. Lum had followed them out onto the lawn and was jabbering and gesticulating.

'What's she saying?' asked Polowski.

'She says the man was about six foot one, had straight dark brown hair parted on the left, brown eyes, almost black, a high forehead, a narrow nose and thin lips, and a small tattoo on his inside left wrist.'

'Uh—is that all?'

'The tattoo read PJX.'

Polowski shook his head in amazement. 'Is she always this observant?'

'She can't exactly converse in English. So she does a lot of watching.'

'Obviously.' Polowski took out a pen and began to jot the information in a notebook.

'So who was this guy?' prodded Milo.

'Not FBI.'

'How do I know you're FBI.'

'Do I look like it?'

'No.'

'Only proves my point.'

'What?'

'If I wanted to pretend I was an agent, wouldn't I at least try to look like one? Whereas, if I am one, I wouldn't bother to try and look like one.'

'Oh.'

'Now.' Polowski slid the notebook in his pocket. 'You're still going to insist you haven't seen, or heard from, Victor Holland?'

Milo straightened. 'That's right.'

'And you don't know how to get in touch with him?'

'I have no idea.'

'That's too bad. Because I could be the one to save his life. I've already saved yours.'

Milo said nothing.

'Just why the hell do you think that guy was here? To pay a social visit? No, he was after information.' Polowski paused and added, ominously, 'And believe me, he would've gotten it.'

Milo shook his head. 'I'm confused.'

'So am I. That's why I need Holland. He has the answers. But I need him alive. That means I need to find him before the other guy does. Tell me where he is.'

Polowski and Milo looked at each other long and hard.

'I don't know,' said Milo. 'I don't know what to do.' Mrs. Lum was chattering again. She pointed to Polowski and nodded.

'Now what's she saying?' asked Polowski.

'She says you have big ears.'

'For that, I can look in the mirror.'

'What she means is, the size of your ears indicates sagacity.'

'Come again?'

'You're a smart dude. She thinks I should listen to you.'

Polowski turned and grinned at Mrs. Lum. 'Your mother is a great judge of character.' He looked back at Milo. 'I wouldn't want anything to happen to her. Or you. You both have to get out of town.'

Milo nodded. 'On that particular point, we both agree.' He turned toward the house.

'What about Holland?' called Polowski. 'Will you help me find him?'

Milo took his mother by the arm and guided her across the lawn. Without even a backward look he said, 'I'm thinking about it.'

'It was those two photos. I just couldn't figure them out,' said Ollie.

They were standing on the boathouse pier, overlooking the bed of Lake Lagunita. The lake was dry now, as it was every winter, drained to a reedy marsh until spring. They were alone, the three of them, sharing the lake with only an occasional duck. In the spring, this would be an idyllic spot, the water lapping the banks, lovers drifting in row-boats, here and there a poet lolling under the trees. But today, under black clouds, with a cold mist rising from the reeds, it was a place of utter desolation.

'I knew they weren't biological data,' said Ollie. 'I kept thinking they looked like some sort of electrical grid. So this morning, right after I left Milo's, I took 'em over to Bach's, down in San Jos6. Caught him at breakfast.'

'Bach?' asked Cathy.

'Another member of the Out of Tuners. Great bassoon player. Started an electronics firm a few years back and now he's working with the big boys. Anyway, the first thing he says as I walk in the door is, 'Hey, did the FBI get to you yet?' And I said, 'What?' and he says, 'They just called. For some reason they're looking for Gershwin. They'll probably get around to you next.' And that's when I knew I had to get you two out of Milo's house, stat.'

'So what did he say about those photos?'

'Oh, yeah.' Ollie reached into his briefcase and pulled out the photos. 'Okay. This one here, it's a circuit diagram. An electronic alarm system. Very sophisticated, very secure. Designed to be breached by use of a keypad code, punched in at this point here. Probably at an entryway. You seen anything like it at Viratek?'

Victor nodded. 'Building C-2. Where Jerry worked. The keypad's in the hall, right by the Special Projects door.'

'Ever been inside that door?'

'No. Only those with top clearance can get through. Like Jerry.'

'Then we'll have to visualize what comes next. Going by the diagram, there's another security point here, probably another keypad. Right inside the first door, they've stationed a camera system.'

'You mean like a bank camera?' asked Cathy.

'Similar. Only I'd guess this one's being monitored twenty-four hours a day.'

'They went first class, didn't they?' said Victor. 'Two secured doors, plus inspection by a guard. Not to mention the guard at the outside gate.'

'Don't forget the laser lattice.'

'What?'

'This inner room here.' Ollie pointed to the diagram's core. 'Laser beams, directed at various angles. They'll detect movement of just about anything bigger than a rat.'

'How do the lasers get switched off?'

'Has to be done by the security guard. The controls are on his panel.'

'You can tell all this from the diagram?' asked Cathy. 'I'm impressed.'

'No problem.' Ollie grinned. 'Bach's firm designs security systems.'