that no human bein' could ha' walked in here without ma knowin' it before he got within ten feet o' that door. Look."
He got up, walked over to the back door, and opened it. It opened into what looked at first to be a totally dark room. Then the sergeant saw that there was a dead-black wall a few feet from the open door.
"That's a light trap," said Harry. "Same as they have in photographic darkrooms. To get from this door to the outer door that leads into the alley, you got to turn two corners and walk about thirty feet. Even I, masel', couldn't walk through it without settin' off half a dozen alarms. Any kind of light would set off the bugs; so would the heat radiation from the human body."
"How about the front?" Sergeant Cowder asked. "Anyone could get in from the front."
Harry's grin became grim. "Not unless I go with 'em. And not even then if I don't want 'em to."
"It was kind of you to let us in," said the detective mildly.
"A pleasure," said Harry. "But I wish I knew how that kid got in."
"Well, he did--somehow," Cowder said. "What happened after he came out of the closet?"
"He made me let the girl in. They were goin' to open up the rear completely and take my stuff out that way. They'd ha' done it, too, if Mr. Gabriel hadn't come along."
Detective Sergeant Cowder looked at Mike the Angel. "About what time was that, Mr. Gabriel?"
"About six thirty-five," Mike told him. "The kids probably hadn't been here more than a few minutes."
Harry MacDougal nodded in silent corroboration.
"Then what happened?" asked the detective.
Mike told him a carefully edited version of what had occurred, leaving out the existence of the little gadget he was carrying in his pocket. The sergeant listened patiently and unbelievingly through the whole recital. Mike the Angel grinned to himself; he knew what part of the story seemed queer to the cop.
He was right. Cowder said: "Now, wait a minute. What caused those vibroblades to burn up that way?"
"Must have been faulty," Mike the Angel said innocently.
"Both of them?" Sergeant Cowder asked skeptically. "At the same time?"
"Oh no. Thirty seconds apart, I'd guess."
"Very interesting. Very." He started to say something else, but a uniformed officer stuck his head in through the doorway that led to the front of the shop.
"We combed the whole area, Sergeant. Not a soul around. But from the looks of the alley, there must have been a small truck parked in there not too long ago."
Cowder nodded. "Makes sense. Those JD's wouldn't have tried this unless they intended to take everything they could put their hands on, and they certainly couldn't have put all this in their pockets." He rubbed one big finger over the tip of his nose. "Okay, Barton, that's all. Take those two kids to the hospital and book 'em in the detention ward. I want to talk to them when they wake up."
The cop nodded and left.
Sergeant Cowder looked back at Harry. "Your alarm to the precinct station went off at six thirty-six. I figure that whoever was on the outside, in that truck, knew something had gone wrong as soon as the fight started in here. He--or they--shut off whatever they were using to suppress the alarm system and took off before we got here. They sure must have moved fast."
"Must have," agreed Harry. "Is there anything else, Sergeant?"
Cowder shook his head. "Not right now. I'll get in touch with you later, if I need you."
Harry and Mike the Angel followed him through the front of the shop to the front door. At the door, Cowder turned.
"Well, good night. Thanks for your assistance, Mr. Gabriel. I wish some of our cops had had your luck."
"How so?" asked Mike the Angel.
"If more vibroblades would blow up at opportune moments, we'd have fewer butchered policemen."
Mike the Angel shook his head. "Not really. If their vibros started burning out every time they came near a cop, the JD's would just start using something else. You can't win in this game."
Cowder nodded glumly. "It's a losing proposition any way you look at it.... Well, good night again." He stepped out, and Old Harry closed and locked the door behind him.
Mike the Angel said: "Come on, Harry; I want to find something." He began walking back down the long, narrow shop toward the rear again. Harry followed, looking mystified.
Mike the Angel stopped, sniffing. "Smell that?"
Harry sniffed. "Aye. Burnt insulation. So?"
"You know which one of these bins is nearest to your main control cable. Start looking. See if you find anything queer."
Old Harry walked over to a nearby bin, pulled it open, and looked inside. He closed it, pulled open another. He found the gadget on the third try. It was
Continue reading on your phone by scaning this QR Code
Tip: The current page has been bookmarked automatically. If you wish to continue reading later, just open the
Dertz Homepage, and click on the 'continue reading' link at the bottom of the page.