'Technically, yes. The ghosts of the James brothers might see it differently. Want to look at the pump room now? Most of the stuff should have melted by this time.'
The snow in the pump room had gone, and the atmosphere was warm and humid. Without the protective white covering, the scene was more repellent than before, the extent of the devastation more clearly and dishearteningly evident, and the stench of oil and charring more pungent and penetrating. Each with a powerful flashlight to lighten the shadows cast by the arc lamps, Dermott, Mackenzie and Bronowski embarked on a search of every square inch of the floors and walls.
After ten minutes Poulson said curiously, 'What are you looking for?'
'I'll let you know when I find it,' Dermott said. 'Meantime, I haven't a clue.'
'In that case, can I join in the search?'
'Sure. Don't touch or turn anything over. The FBI wouldn't like it.'
Ten minutes later, Dermott straightened and switched off his light. 'That's it, then, gentlemen. If you've found no more than I have, among the four of us we've found nothing. Looks as if fire or blasts have wiped the platter clean. Let's have a look at the James brothers. They should be in a fairly examinable state by now.'
They were. Dermott moved first to the man he'd looked at in the pump room. This time the zip on the green parka unfastened easily. The blast effect that had shredded the parka had not penetrated it, for the plaid shirt beneath bore no signs of damage. Dermott removed some papers, cards and envelopes from the inside right pocket of the jacket, leafed through and replaced them. He then lifted both charred wrists, examined them and the hands in an apparently cursory fashion and lowered them again. He repeated the process with the other victim, then rose to his feet. Poulson bent a quizzical eye on him.
'That's the way a detective examines a murdered man?'
'I don't suppose it is. But then, I'm not a detective.' He turned to Bronowski. 'You all through?'
'If you are.' Sam Bronowski led the way to the helicopter, Dermott and Mackenzie following through the thinly driving snow that reduced visibility to a few yards. It was intensely cold.
'Clues,' Mackenzie said into Dermott's ear, not from any wish for privacy but simply to make himself heard. 'Man can't move around without tripping over them.'
'None in the pump room, that's sure. Place had been pretty comprehensively quartered before we ever got there. Almost certainly before the snow had started to cover anything.'
'What do you mean?'
'The old fine-tooth comb is what I mean.'
'Poulson and his men?'
'And/or. Who else?'
'Perhaps there was nothing to find?'
Dermott said ? or rather shouted, 'That dead man's forefinger had been deliberately broken. Bent in at forty-five degrees toward the thumb. Never seen anything like it before.'
'Freak accident.'
''Odd' is better. Something else odd, too. When I searched him first there was a buff envelope in his inner pocket. I was unable to get it out.'
'But you were when you unzipped it later?'
'No. It was gone.'
''And/or' at work, you think?'
'So it seems.'
'All very curious,' Mackenzie said.
Jim Brady was of the same opinion. After reporting the results of their investigation, Dermott and Mackenzie had retired with him to the room he'd been allocated for the night.
Brady said, 'Why didn't you mention those things to Black and Finlayson? Those are hard facts ? an oddly broken finger, a missing envelope?'
'Hard facts? There's only my word for it. I've no idea what was in the envelope anyway, and although I'd say the forefinger had been deliberately broken, I'm no osteologist.'
'But no harm in mentioning those things, surely?'
'Bronowski and Houston were there too.'
'You really don't trust anyone, do you, George?' Brady's tone was admiring, not reproachful.
'As you never fail to remind people, sir, you taught me yourself.'
'True, true,' Brady said complacently. 'Very well, then, have them up. I'll do my Olympian act while you ply them with questions and strong drink.'
Dermott spoke on the phone and within a minute Bronowski and Houston had knocked, entered and taken seats.
'Kind, gentlemen, kind.' Brady was at his most avuncular. 'Long day, I know, and you must be damnably tired. But we're babes in the wood up here. We're not only short of necessary information, we're totally devoid of it, and we believe you two gentlemen are those best equipped to supply us with that information. But I forget myself, gentlemen. I suggest a pre-inquisitional restorative.'
Mackenzie said, 'What Mr. Brady means is a drink.'
'That's what I said. You gentlemen like scotch?'
'Off-duty, yes. But you know the company regulations, sir, and how strictly Mr. Finlayson interprets those.'
'Strict? I am ironclad in the interpretation of my own regulations.' The wave of Brady's arm was, indeed, Olympian. 'You are off-duty. Off regular duty, anyhow. George, refreshments. Mr. Dermott will ask the questions, alternating, I do not doubt, with Mr. Mackenzie. You gentlemen, if you will be so kind, will fill in the gaps in our knowledge.'
He took his daiquiri from Dermott, savored it, laid down his glass, relaxed in his chair and steepled his hands under his chin. 'I shall but listen and evaluate.' Nobody was left with any doubt as to which was the most demanding task of the three. 'Health, gentlemen.'
Bronowski lifted his own glass, which he had accepted with no great show of reluctance. 'And confusion to our enemies.'
Dermott said, 'That's precisely the point. The enemy aren't confused. We are. The taking out of Pump Station Four is only the opening skirmish in what promises to be a bloody battle. They ? the enemy ? know where they're going to hit again. We have not the vaguest idea. But you must have ? by the very nature of your job you must be more aware of the points most vulnerable to attack than anyone else between Prudhoe Bay and Valdez. Take off your security hats and put on those of the enemy. Where would you strike next?'
'Jesus!' Bronowski fortified himself with some of Brady's malt. 'That's more than a sixty-four-dollar question. It's an eight-hundred-mile question ? and every damned mile is virtually a sitting target.'
'The boss is right,' Tim Houston said. 'If we sit here and drink your whiskey while pretending to help, we're only abusing your hospitality. There's nothing we or anyone else can do to help. A combat-ready division of the U. S. Army would be about as useful as a gaggle of Girl Scouts. The task is impossible and the line indefensible.'
Mackenzie said, 'Well, George, at least we're operating on a bigger scale than with the tar-sands boys in Athabasca. There they said a battalion wouldn't be big enough to guard their installation. Now it's a division.' Mackenzie turned to Bronowski. 'Let's switch hats with the enemy. Where wouldn't you strike next?'
Bronowski said, 'Well, I wouldn't strike at any of the pump stations again on the assumption that, until this matter is cleared up, they will be heavily guarded. I'd have been sorely tempted to go for Pump Station Ten at the Isabel Pass in the Alaska Range, or Number Twelve at the Thompson Pass in the Chugach Mountains. All pump stations are vital of course, but some are more vital than others, and those are Number Ten and Number Twelve ? along with Number Four here.' He considered briefly. 'Or maybe I would go for them… I mean, maybe you'd be so damned certain that I wouldn't hit again in the same place that you wouldn't much bother ? '
Dermott held up his hand. 'Start in on the double-guessing, and we're up all night. On with the hazards ? the low priority ones, I mean.'
'I wouldn't go for the two Master Operations Control Centers at Prudhoe Bay. They could be taken out easily enough and, sure, they'd stall all production from the wells immediately, but not for long. It's no secret that contingency plans for bypassing the centers are already in hand. Repairs wouldn't take all that long. In any event, security will be now tightened to the extent that the game wouldn't be worth the candle. So we can be pretty
