Eagle Squad. James C. Glass
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Lundeman?” Curtis nodded as the man fumbled in his coat pocket, then held up an identification card with his picture on it. “I’m Charles Ebensack, NSA Arlington. Could you spare me a few minutes, Doctor?”
“Yes, come in. I was expecting someone from Central Intelligence.”
Ebensack smiled, took off the heavy overcoat and adjusted his tie while taking in the plush furnishings of a university president’s house. Curtis hung the coat in a closet and motioned Ebensack to the couch as Irene made her entrance into the room. She walked straight to Ebensack with a dazzling smile and hand extended as Curtis announced, “This is my wife, Irene.” He had seen men quiver in her presence when she looked this way, some perhaps intimidated by her height, but Ebensack regarded her calmly with a little smile, took her hand gently in his and made a little bow. Curtis had seen the style in Eastern Europe, and he suspected that had Irene thought to raise her hand a little more, Ebensack would have kissed it while looking into her eyes.
“Can I get you something: a coffee, perhaps, or something sweet?”
“Nothing, thank you. I’ll only be here a few minutes.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your business. Curtis, dear, if you need anything I’ll be in our room, reading.” She turned to her guest. “Nice to meet you, Mister Ebensack.”
The man smiled warmly at her, said nothing, and Curtis detected both pleasure and amusement in his eyes as Irene turned and made her dignified exit from the room.
“An exceptional woman,” said Ebensack.
“Thank you,” said Curtis. “What can I do for you?” They sat down to relax in soft waves of white fabric.
“Just a few questions about the unfortunate incident in laboratory four this morning. An autopsy has been performed, and the official cause of death will be listed as heart failure. Doctor Bauer’s family has some history of heart problems, and his wife can accept this without question. They have no children. Most unfortunate.”
“Then there’s no question of suicide or murder?”
“Ah, there’s the rub,” said Ebensack gravely. “There’s no evidence of heart or arterial disease, or any other condition that might cause a massive coronary. There is no sign whatsoever of myocardial infarction. It would appear that his heart simply stopped, and this is an unusual physiological phenomenon. The broken ampoule could be related to his death. SB4 inhalation blocks every nerve in the body almost instantly. Do you think this could have happened accidentally, Doctor Lundeman?”
“It’s possible. Look, I’m not a chemist, but I’m familiar with the original research proposal. Bauer’s work was on finding an agent to block the effects of SB4. Maybe he was careless. There was nothing except the broken gas ampoule in the fume hood, and that material is supposed to be handled in a sealed glove-box, where there’s no danger of exposure.”
“That seems reasonable,” said Ebensack reflectively, “but of course there’s the question of suicide.”
“Unlikely,” said Curtis, warming to his understanding and explanation of the problem. “As far as I know, Doctor Bauer had no reasons for suicide. He seemed healthy, was enthusiastic about his work, and I’ve heard nothing about any personal problems he might have had. He was a rather outspoken man, and not what I would call private. He was well respected for the quality of his research here.”
Ebensack wrote something down in his notebook and frowned. “So there’s no obvious motive for suicide, even though one never really knows what goes on in the bedroom, and we also have the bruises to explain.”
“Bruises?”
“Yes, across the back, one cheek, and two small but prominent bruises on the back of his neck, as if he had been grabbed by a very strong hand. Put this together with the fact there were many tiny pieces of glass in his face, and you might think he was beaten, then forced into the fume hood where someone broke an SB4 ampoule by his face. That’s not suicide, Doctor Lundeman, that’s murder.”
Curtis felt the coolness of tiny beads of perspiration evaporating at his hairline. He willed himself to remain calm by remembering a cliché for stage comedians and university presidents. Never let them see you sweat. When he spoke, his voice was firm and reassuring.
“What you say makes sense, but I can’t imagine anyone wanting to kill Jacob Bauer. Like I said, he was well respected here.”
“He had no enemies? No rivals for a particular position, or a facility?”
“None that I’m aware of. He was not what I’d call an ambitious man.”
Ebensack wrote a few words in his notebook. “Did you personally like him, Doctor?”
“I hardly knew him. We met at receptions and senate meetings, and he came over to my office once or twice for a chat. My door is always open for the faculty, and I encourage them to come in for visits.”
“Did you ever have any conflicts with him?”
“Not really. I mentioned he was a very outspoken man, and we argued in the senate about our policies regarding classified research on this campus. He was basically opposed to allowing overly classified research here, and was quite vocal about it. The issue has been sent to the faculty senate research committee, and they’re working on a policy statement now. The main issue seems to be easing restrictions on graduate thesis publication. Federal input has been very helpful in this matter, by the way, and I appreciate that. We should have the problem resolved in the next few weeks.”
“Can you think of any faculty members who would be threatened by Bauer’s opposition to classified research?”
“Absolutely not. The majority of our outside funding here comes from some kind of classified research, and the faculty certainly isn’t going to do away with it. Bauer knew that when he argued in the senate, but he was not afraid to express an unpopular opinion, and did so. I respect that.”
“It’s hard to tell how some people will react to a situation, Doctor, and what one person regards as nothing may be seen as a life-threat to another. I’ll be checking into this further, and I’d like to have your cooperation.”
“I’ll help you in any way I can. All I ask is that you be discrete about your inquiries, and please remember this is a university. People don’t get killed for expressing ideas here.”
“Perhaps, but unfortunately human history is filled with people who killed others because of their ideas. If a man is threatened by an idea, he will react to counter that threat with some permanence. This is a human trait, and universities are composed of human beings. It seems likely to me that Jacob Bauer was a threat to one or more people on this campus, and I will begin by finding out who they are.”
“But please keep in touch with my office,” said Lundeman quickly. “Some faculty members will be very sensitive to an investigation, and you should know who they are before you make any contacts.”
“I understand, and I’ll certainly let you know what I’m up to. My office will insist on that. This might take a few days or weeks, Doctor Lundeman. I’ll be staying with Harold Cox, so just call his office if you have any messages for me.”
“The county sheriff?”
“Yes. We went to school together, a long time ago. Such a small world we live in, don’t you think? I can do my work, and have a nice visit with an old friend at the same time.”
“That’s nice,” said Lundeman, standing up. “Is there anything else I can do for you now?”
Ebensack got up slowly, thinking. “I can’t see anything more at the moment, but I’m sure something will come to mind later. You’ve been helpful, Doctor.”
Lundeman helped the man with his heavy coat, and opened the front door for him. The evening air felt cold on his face and head, and he suddenly realized his arm pits were damp as well. The men shook hands, and then Ebensack held