Neil Clandon had been found by a patrolling security guard shortly after two o'clock that morning, in the corridor beside the heavy steel door leading to number one lab in 'E' block. That he was dead was beyond dispute. What he had died of was not yet known, for in an establishment staffed almost entirely by doctors no one had been allowed to approach the dead man. The strictness of the rule was absolute. When the alarm bells rang it was a job for the Special Branch and the Special Branch alone.
The senior guard had been summoned and had approached within six feet of the body. He had reported that Clandon had been violently ill before dying, and that he had obviously died in convulsions and great agony. The symptoms had all the hallmarks of prussic acid poisoning. Had the guard been able to get the typical bitter almond smell, this, of course, would have put the tentative diagnosis beyond reasonable doubt. But that, of course, had been impossible. All guards on internal patrol had to make their rounds in gas-tight suits with a closed circuit breathing apparatus.
The senior guard had noticed something else. The time clock setting on the steel door had been altered. Normally it was set to run from 6 p.m. till 8 a.m. Now it was set to run from midnight. Which meant that access to number one lab would be impossible before 2 p.m., except to those who knew the combination that overrode the time lock.
It was the soldier, not Hardanger, who supplied this information. I listened to him and said, 'Why you? What's your interest in all this?'
'Major-General Cliveden is the second-in-command of the Royal Army Medical Corps,' Hardanger explained. 'Which automatically makes him the director of the Mordon Microbiological Research Establishment.'
'He wasn't when I was there.'
'My predecessor has retired,' Cliveden said curtly, but the underlying worry was clear to see. 'Ill health. First reports naturally came to me. I was in London. I notified the Superintendent immediately. And on my own initiative I ordered an oxy-acetylene team from Aldershot to rush there: they will open the door under Special Branch supervision.'
'An oxy-acetylene team.' I stared at him. 'Are you quite mad?'
'I don't understand.'
'Cancel it, man. Cancel it at once. What in God's name made you do that? Don't you know anything about that door? Apart from the fact that no acetylene equipment in existence could get through that special steel of that door inside hours, don't you know that the door itself is lethal? That it's filled with a near-lethal gas? That there's a central insulator mounted plate inside the door that damn well is lethal — charged with two thousand volts?'
'I didn't know that, Cavell.' His voice was low. 'I've only just taken over.'
'And even if they did get inside? Have you thought of what would happen then? You're scared, aren't you, Major-General Clivedon, you're terrified at the thought that someone has already been inside. Maybe that someone was careless. Maybe that someone was very careless, maybe he knocked over a container or cracked a sealed culture tank. A tank or container, for instance, with botulinus toxin — which is one of the viruses both made and stored in number one lab. It takes a minimum of twelve hours exposure to air to oxidise the toxin and render it harmless. If anyone comes into contact with it before oxidisation, they're dead men. Before midday, that is. And Clandon, had you thought of him? How do you know the botulinus didn't get him? The symptoms are exactly the same as those of prussic acid poisoning. How do you know the two guards weren't affected? The senior guard who spoke to you — if he had been affected, the botulinus would have got him as soon as he'd taken off his mask to speak to you. He'd have died in agonies a minute later. Have you checked that he's still alive?'
Cliveden reached for the phone. His hand was shaking. While he was dialling, I said to Hardanger, 'Right, Superintendent, the explanation.'
'Martin here?'
I nodded.
'Two good reasons. The first was that you are number one suspect.'
'Say that again.'
'You'd been sacked,' he said bluntly. 'Left under a cloud. Your opinion of Mordon's place in the scheme of things was well known. You have a reputation for taking the law into your own hands.' He smiled without humour, 'I've had plenty of experience of that from you.'
'You're loony. Would I murder my best friend?' I said savagely.
'You were the only outsider who knew the whole security set-up in Mordon. The only one, Cavell. If anyone could get into and out of that place it was you.' He paused for a significant moment. 'And you are now the only man alive who knows the combinations for the various laboratory doors. The combinations, as you know, can only be altered in the factory where the doors are made. After your departure, the precaution of changing was not thought necessary.'
'Dr. Baxter, the civilian director, knows the combinations.'
'Dr. Baxter is missing. We can't trace him anywhere. We had to find out fast how the land lay. This was the best way. The only way. Immediately after you left home this morning we checked with your wife. She said—'
'You've been round at my house.' I stared at him. 'Bothering Mary? Questioning her? I rather think—'
'Don't trouble,' Hardanger said dryly. 'You'd get no satisfaction from breaking in false teeth. I wasn't there, sent a junior officer. Silly of me, I admit, asking a bride of two months to turn in her husband. Of course she said you hadn't left the house all night.'
I looked at him without speaking. His eyes were exactly on a level with mine. He said, 'Are you wondering whether to haul off at me for even suggesting that Mary may be a liar or why she didn't phone to tip you off?'
'Both.'
'She's no liar. You forget how well I know her. And she didn't tip you off because we disconnected your phone, both home and here. We also bugged this phone before you arrived this morning — I heard every word you said to Martin on the phone in your outer office.' He smiled. 'You had me worried for a few minutes there.'
'How did you get in? I didn't hear you. The bell didn't go off.'
'The fuse box is in the outer corridor. All very illegal, I'm afraid.'
I nodded. 'I'll have to change that.'
'So you're in the clear, Cavell. An Oscar for Inspector Martin, I should say. Twelve minutes flat to find out what we wanted to know. But we
'Why? Why that way? A few hours leg-work by your men, checking taxis, restaurants, theatres and you'd have known I couldn't possibly have been in Mordon last night.'
'I couldn't wait.' He cleared his throat with unnecessary force. 'Which brings me to my second reason. If you're not the killer, then you're the man I want to find the killer. Now that Clandon is dead, you are the only man who knows the entire security set-up at Mordon. No one else does. Damned awkward, but there it is. If anyone can find anything, you can.'
'Not to mention the fact that I'm the only man who can open that door now that Clandon is dead and Baxter missing.'
'There's that too,' he admitted.
'There's that, too,' I mimicked. 'That's all you really want. And when the door is open I can run along and be a good boy.'
'Not unless you want to.'
'You mean that? First Derry, now Clandon. I'd like to do something.'
'I know. I'll give you a free hand.'
'The General won't like it.' No one ever called Hardanger's ultimate superior by his name: very few even knew it.
'I've already fixed it with the General. You're right, he doesn't like it. I suspect he doesn't like you.' Hardanger grinned sourly. 'Often the way with relatives.'
'You did that in advance? Well, thanks for the compliment.'
'You were the number one suspect. But I never suspected you. All the same, I had to be sure. So many of our best men have gone over the wall in the past few years.'
'When do we leave?' I said. 'Now?' Cliveden had just replaced the receiver on its rest. His hand still wasn't very steady.
'If you're ready.'
'I will be in a moment.' Hardanger was a past master at keeping his expressions buttoned up, but there was
