Unless he was so expert and so well-trained that he was better than
anything the S.M.M.R. had ever known.
MacHeath didn't even like to think about that. It would mean that all
the theory of psionics that had been built up so painstakingly over
the past years would have to be junked _in toto_.
Something was gnawing in the depths of his mind. In the perfectly
rational but utterly nonlogical part of his subconscious where hunches
are built, something was trying to form.
MacHeath didn't try to probe for it. As soon as he had enough
information for the hunch to be fully formed, it would be ready to
use. Until then, it would be worthless, and probing for it might
interrupt the formation.
* * * * *
He was just finishing his coffee as Bill Griffin came in the door and
headed toward the table where MacHeath, Luvochek, and Bessermann were
sitting.
MacHeath stood up and said: "Excuse me. I'll have to be getting some
work done if you guys are ever going to get your own work done."
"Sure."
"Go ahead."
"Thanks for the coffee," MacHeath added as he moved away.
"Anytime," said Bessermann, grinning. "You guys just keep up the good
work. When you fix 'em, they stay fixed. We haven't had a burnout
since you came."
"Maybe you broke our statistical jinx," said Luvochek, with a chubby
smile.
"Maybe," said MacHeath. "I hope so."
For some reason, the gnawing in his hunch factory became more
persistent.
As he and Griffin walked toward the door, Griffin reported rapidly. "I
checked everything in the gun chamber. No sign of any tampering.
Everything's just as we left it. The dust film hasn't been disturbed."
"It figures," said MacHeath.
Outside, in the corridor, they met Dr. Konrad Bern hurrying toward the
cafeteria. He stopped as he saw them.
"Oh, hello, Mr. MacHeath, Mr. Griffin," he said. His white-toothed
smile was friendly, but both of the S.M.M.R. agents could detect the
hostility that was hard and brittle beneath the surface. "I wanted to
thank you for the wonderful job you've been doing."
"Why, thank you, doctor," said MacHeath honestly. "We aim to satisfy."
Bern chuckled. "You're doing well so far. Odd streak of luck we've
had, isn't it? Poor Dr. Nordred has been under a terrible strain; his
whole life work is tied up in this project." He made a vague gesture
with one hand. "Would you care for some coffee?"
"Just had some, thanks," said MacHeath, "but we'll take a rain check."
"Fine. Anytime." And he went on into the cafeteria.
"Wow!" said Griffin as he walked on down the corridor with MacHeath.
"That man is scared silly! But what an actor! You'd never know he was
eating his guts out."
"Sure he's scared," MacHeath said. "With all this sabotage talk going
around, he's afraid there'll be an exhaustive investigation, and he
can't take that right now."