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

minute to open McCulloch's locker and make impressions of all of his keys. The duplicates were in his
pocket now as he drove the old Pontiac slowly down the tree-lined street. It was hot and stuffy with the
car windows closed—but he liked it that way. All of the glass was now completely steamed up. He had
to lean over to wipe a clear patch on the windshield so he could see out.

As he turned the car into the driveway of the colonel's house Troy pressed the button on the
radio-operated garage opener, now set to the same frequency as McCulloch's. The door swung up and
he rolled under it. Any casual observer would assume automatically that this was the colonel coming
home. Since McCulloch had no friends or acquaintances in the neighbourhood the chances of his finding
out about this unscheduled visit were very slight. Troy waited until the door was completely shut behind
him before he got out of the car. He left the raincoat and hat on the seat, clipped the radio to his belt then
reached over for his attaché case. Instead of turning on the garage lights he used the flashlight from his
jacket pocket.

The burglar alarm box was next to the door that led from the garage into the house. The QCIC technician
had identified the key for him and told him just what to do. Insert, rotate one full turn clockwise, then
remove. He reached up and did just that. The blue light on the front of the box went out. When he left the
house he would have to reverse the procedure. He found the correct door key on his second try,
unlocked it and was about to pull the door open when he stopped. It was too easy. If McCulloch had
anything to hide—wouldn't he take some more precautions than just the burglar alarm?

Troy ran the flashlight along the top of the door, then down the sides. Nothing seemed to be protruding.
But it was very easy to leave a small piece of paper jammed into the door, that would fall out when the
door was opened. He bent over—and there it was!

A burnt matchstick just under the hinge, its blackened head barely visible. When he opened the door it
dropped onto the sill. Very good. He leaned close with the light and saw the tiny groove it had made. It
would be going back into that groove when he left.

Then he swung the door wide and let himself in. It was cool and quiet in the hallway. The door at the far
end opened into the kitchen.

Troy had all the time in the world.

He was going to use it wisely, taking as long as he needed, rushing nothing. McCulloch would not be
home for eight hours at the very least. He was being watched and there would be plenty of time to get
out of the house should his routine be changed.

'What I want to do with you, colonel,' Troy said to himself, looking around the room, 'is to find out just
what makes you tick.'

He took off his sports jacket and hung it on the back of a kitchen chair, then loosened his collar and tie.
The breakfast bar was clean and polished. Troy spread his pocket handkerchief on it, then opened his
attaché case and took out the Thermos of coffee. After pouring himself a cup he placed the Thermos on
the handkerchief. He sipped and looked around.

Very GI. The place was clean as a BOQ. It should be, considering the fact that McCulloch had been in
the military most of his life. From VMI he had gone right into the Army. A clean record, plenty of combat
experience, a good soldier. Then OCS—and on to a lifetime career. It showed. Breakfast dishes rinsed
and drying on the draining-board. Even the frying pan washed and put away. Eggs and bacon for