Athabasca

the three of us is much given to stealing explosives, Mr. Dermott.'

'Not unless you're certifiable. Now, it seems unlikely anyone would risk abstracting keys and having copies made. Not only would they be too likely to be missed, but there's also more than a fair chance that we could trace the key cutter and so the thief.'

'There could be illegal key cutters.'

'I still doubt the keys would have been taken. Much more likely someone took an impression. That would need seconds only. And that's where the illegal side would come in ? no straight key cutter would touch an impression. How easy would it be for anyone to get hold of the keys, even briefly?'

Brinckman said, 'About Jorgensen's and Napier's I wouldn't know. I clip mine to my belt.'

Mackenzie said, 'Everybody's got to sleep.'

'So?'

'You take your belt off then, don't you?'

'Sure.' Brinckman shrugged. 'And if you're going to ask me next if I'm a heavy sleeper, well, yes, I am. And if you're going to ask me if it would have been possible for anyone to sneak into my room while I was asleep, borrow my key for a couple of minutes and return it unseen, well, yes that would have been perfectly possible too.'

'This,' Brady said, 'is not going to take us very far. Sticky-fingered characters with an affinity for keys are legion. Would there have been any security man in this area tonight?'

'Jorgensen would know,' Brinckman said. 'Shall I get him?'

'Won't he be out patrolling sixteen miles of conveyor belting or something?'

'He's in the canteen.'

'But surely he's in charge ? on duty?'

'In charge of what, Mr. Brady? There are four men keeping an eye on the four draglines. The rest of the plant is closed down. We think it unlikely that this bomber will strike again tonight.'

'Not much is unlikely.'

'Bring him along to my office,' Reynolds said. Brinckman left. 'I think you'll find it warmer and more comfortable there, Mr. Brady.'

They followed Reynolds to the office block, through an external room where a bright-eyed and pretty young woman at the desk gave them a charming smile, and on into Reynolds' office where Brady began divesting himself of several outer layers of clothing even before Reynolds had the door closed. Reynolds took his chair behind the desk while Brady sank wearily into the only armchair in the room.

Reynolds said, 'Sorry to drag you all over the northwest like this. No sleep, no food, jet lags, all very upsetting. In the circumstances, I feel entitled to bend company regulations. Come to think of it, I'm the only person in Sanmobile who can. A refreshment would be in order?'

'Ha!' Brady pondered. 'Early in the morning. Not only no dinner but no breakfast either.' A hopeful look crept into his eye. 'Daiquiri?'

'But I thought you always ? '

'We had an unfortunate experience over the Yukon,' Dermott said. 'We ran out.'

Brady scowled. Reynolds smiled. 'No daiquiris here. But a really excellent twelve-year-old malt.' A few seconds later Brady lowered his half-tumbler and nodded appreciatively.

'A close second. Now you two' ? this to Dermott and Mackenzie ? 'I've done all the work so far.'

'Yes, sir.' Not even the shadow of a smile touched Mackenzie's face. 'Three questions, if I may. Who suggested checking up on the amount of explosives in the blasting shed?'

'Nobody. Terry Brinckman did it right off the bat. We have a meticulous checking system and an easy one. The tally sheet's kept up to date twice a day. We just count the numbers of each particular type of explosive, subtract that number from the latest entry on the tally sheet, and that's the number that's been issued that day. Or stolen, as the case may be.'

'Well, that's certainly a mark in favor of your security chief.'

'You have reservations about him?'

'Good heavens no. Why on earth should I? Number two ? where do you hang up your keys at night?'

'I don't.' He nodded toward a massive safe in a corner. 'Kept there day and night.'

'Ah! In that case I'll have to rephrase what was going to be my third question. You are the only person with a key to that safe?'

'There's one more key. Corinne has it.' 'Ah. That lovely lassie in the outer office?' 'That, as you say, lovely lassie in the outer office, is my secretary.'

'And why does she have a key?' 'Various reasons. All big companies, as you must know, have their codes. We're no exception. Code books are kept there. Corinne's my coding expert. Also, I can't be here all the time. Undermanagers, accountants, our legal people and the security chief all have access to the safe. I can assure you the safe contains items of vastly more importance than the keys to the blasting shed. Nothing has ever been missing yet.'

'People just walk in, help themselves and walk out?'

Reynolds lifted his eyebrows and looked hard at Mackenzie. 'Not quite. We are security conscious to a degree. They have to sign in, show Corinne what they've taken and sign out again.'

'A couple of keys in a trouser pocket?' 'Of course she doesn't search them. There has to be a certain amount of trust at executive levels.' 'Yes. Could we have her in, do you think?' Reynolds spoke into the box on his desk. Corinne entered looking good standing up, in her khaki cord Levi's and nicely distorted plaid shirt, a person with a smile for everyone. Reynolds said, 'You know who those gentlemen are, Corinne?' 'Yes, sir. I think everybody does.' 'I think Mr. Mackenzie here would like to ask you some questions.' 'Sir?' 'How long have you been with Mr. Reynolds?'

'Just over two years.'

'Before that?'

'I came straight from secretarial school.'

'You have a pretty sensitive and responsible position here?'

She smiled again, but this time a little uncertainly, as if unsure where the questions were leading. 'Mr. Reynolds lists me as his confidential secretary.'

'May I ask how old you are?'

'Twenty-two.'

'You must be the youngest confidential secretary of any big corporation I've ever come across.'

This time she caught her lip and glanced at Reynolds, who was leaning back in his chair, hands clasped lazily behind his neck, with the air of a man who was almost enjoying himself. He smiled and said, 'Mr. Mackenzie is an industrial sabotage investigator. He has a job to do, and asking questions is part of that job. I know he's just made a statement, not asked a question, but it's one of those statements that expects comment.'

She turned back to Mackenzie, with a swing of her long chestnut hair. 'I suppose I've been pretty lucky at that.'

She spoke with marked coolness, and Mackenzie felt it. 'None of my questions are directed against you, Corinne, okay? Now, you must know the executive-level people pretty well?'

'I can hardly help it. They all come through me to get to Mr. Reynolds.'

'Including those who have business with that safe there?'

'Of course. I know them all well.'

'All good friends, I take it?'

'Well' ? she smiled, but the smile had an edge to it ? 'lots of them are much too senior to be my friends.'

'But on good terms, shall we say?'

'Oh, yes.' She smiled again. 'I don't think I've made any enemies.'

'Perish the thought!' This came from George Dermott, who took over the questioning on a brisker note. 'Any of the people using the safe ever give you trouble? Like trying to take away what they shouldn't?'

'Not often, and then it's only absentminded-ness or because they haven't studied the classified list. And surely, Mr. Dermott, if anyone wanted to get something past me they'd hide it in their clothing.'

Dermott nodded. 'That's true. Miss Delorme.' The girl was inspecting his rough-and-ready good looks with a spark of humor in her eye, as if amused by his blunt approach. He caught the expression and, in his turn, watched