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hear we don’t have to pay.”
    Dzeloski looked more nervous and flustered than before. “Guy, what is this? We can’t get any more money out of the committee’s
     budget—there isn’t any till July 1st—probably more like mid-August. By then we’ll have lost our best engineers, which will
     throw us another six months behind. We’ve borrowed up to the hilt. I can’t get a penny anywhere else. What harm can it do?
     Let Mr. Lockwood investigate.”
    “Mr.—Dr. Dzeloski,” Manners said, “
we
don’t want some private dick trampling down the grass around here. This is government business. We’ll find the bombsight.
     That’s our business.”
    “Producing Northstar bombsights is
my
business, Manners,” Dzeloski said, and now there was no give in his voice. “And while we may have a contract with the Air
     Corps, this bombsight is still private property—my private property. I need this payment to stay in business. I’ve already
     talked to Washington all morning. They won’t—they can’t—release the next payment till I deliver this prototype, and it was
     stolen last night. So. Lockwood, you look around all you want. I want that money in ninety-six hours—just as my policy calls
     for. Myra, make sure everybody on our staff cooperates with Mr. Lockwood.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Manners’ eyes narrowed. Obviously he wasn’t used to civilians brooking his suggestions. Lockwood cheered the short president
     of the firm—Dzeloski’s stance was precisely what Lockwood would have done. “I’m going to call Washington.”
    “Talk to Lt.-Col. Maynard Anderson,” Dzeloski suggested. “He’s in charge of the project.”
    Manners shook his head. “No sir. I’m going to call the director, and I expect he’ll talk to General Bridges himself.” He shot
     Lockwood a contemptuous look. “The less amateurs, the better.”
    Lockwood smiled and shrugged his whole upper body. “You’d be doing me a favor, Manners. I’ve got lots of other things I’d
     rather do.”
    “Like what?”
    “Take a pretty girl to Montauk for a lobster. Tell my boss we can forget this claim.”
    “Watch your step, Lockwood,” Manners said. “We like wise guys a lot less than amateurs.”

Chapter 3
    Saying nothing about his inquiries up to now, Lockwood left Dr. Dzeloski’s office and went to his car. At the gate he flashed
     his badge and found out who had been on duty last night.
    By 3:00 that afternoon he was knocking at the night guard’s door. A sleepy-looking forty-five-year-old man answered his third
     knock.
    “I don’t want none, fellow,” he said when he caught sight of Lockwood.
    Lockwood flashed his gold badge and asked, “Fred Hamlisch? Would you answer a few questions?”
    Hamlisch suddenly looked much more wary than sleepy. “About what?”
    “About the theft last night.”
    The question shook Hamlisch. “What theft?”
    “Can I come in?”
    Hamlisch considered this a few seconds, tried out a grin, and said, “If you’ll have coffee with me. I got to get moving. I
     got to be to work by 6:00.”
    Hamlisch led him through a quiet dark living room and a long dark hallway to the kitchen. As he fussed with the gas stove,
     Hamlisch asked again, “What theft?”
    “You really didn’t hear about it?” Lockwood asked.
    “I wouldn’t ask if I had. How do you like your coffee?”
    “You let the thieves out last night at 2:17, according to your log. It was an inside job and you helped them get away with
     a $100,000 piece of U.S. government equipment.”
    Hamlisch dropped the coffeepot into the sink with a clatter. “I did
what?
”
    “You heard me.”
    “I don’t know anything about this.”
    “Didn’t a two-ton panel truck leave Northstar last night? Didn’t you inspect it?”
    “I wasn’t supposed to.”
    “They let people take stuff out in the dead of night without supervision? Come on, Hamlisch.”
    Hamlisch put water into the coffeepot and put it on the fire.
    “Say, mister, I don’t