"Harry Harrison - Rebel in Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harrison Harry)

'Correct. It started quite recently, just a little over six months ago. At that time he had some money
invested in gilt-edged stock, plus a little more in a savings account. He cleared everything out and bought
gold. Sold some bonds that he had inherited as well. Now we both know that all of this is completely
legal. But I still want to know why.'

'May I see the file, admiral?'

Troy flipped through it quickly but methodically, then held it up. 'There's no mention in here of the
colonel's duties.'

'There wouldn't be. The FBI agents who make up these reports operate on a need-to-know basis.
McCulloch is in charge of security at one of our most important and secret laboratory facilities. His work
there cannot be faulted in any way—he's doing an excellent job. That's not what is bothering us. It's the
gold. It doesn't, well…'

'Smell right?'

'Correct. Call it a hunch, call it anything. It is just too much out of the ordinary—the only unusual thing
that McCulloch has done in his entire lifetime. That's your assignment. Find out why he is buying the stuff.'

'I'll do that, admiral. I'm intrigued by it as well. I can't think of any possible reason for a man in the
colonel's position to be doing this sort of thing. Legal reason, that is.'

'You think that it could be illegal?'

'At this point I think nothing, sir. I have an open mind. What we need are some hard facts before we can
decide anything.'

Chapter 3
The rain thundered down in a heavy tropical downpour. Although it was the end of October the air was
muggy and stifling, one of the main reasons that Washington has the dismal nickname of Foggy Bottom.
Troy Harmon sat behind the wheel of the Pontiac, slumped down in the seat with his hat tilted over his
eyes. It was no accident that the hat, as well as the raincoat, closely resembled those worn by Colonel
McCulloch when he had left his house about thirty minutes earlier. The colonel had also been driving a
vintage Pontiac—the same colour and year as this one. The sound of the rain hammering on the metal
roof almost drowned out the sudden beeping of the radio. Troy lifted it to his ear and thumbed it to life.

'George Baker here,' he said. The earphone rasped in reply.

'George is parking in his usual place in the lot now.'

'Thanks. Out.'

Troy turned the ignition key and switched on the engine. It had taken four days to set everything up,
working slowly and carefully so that there could be no mistakes. He did not believe in rushing into a case
before he was completely prepared. But now, with the preparations completed, he was looking forward
to the next part of the operation. All of the details concerning Colonel McCulloch's daily and weekly
routine had been in the FBI reports. Troy had studied them closely and made the most of the
opportunity. The FBI had supplied him with a guest membership to the athletic club where the colonel
played squash three times a week. He had made a single visit there—and it had taken him less than a