Читать книгу Sigma Rising - John Randolph Price - Страница 7

"The police have dusted and vacuumed every room. No evidence of anything abnormal. I don't know what the director expects us to find. And anyway, the admiral was miles from here when he disappeared."

FBI Special Agent Rick Ellis, tall and angular, gray hair in a crew-cut, turned to his partner. "Maybe Mrs. Jessops wasn't. I don't know what we're looking for either, except possibly something irregular, something obvious."

"Obvious?" Agent Jay Koop asked.

"The Metro cops deal only with the obscure, what's hiding behind the glare. What stands out like your nose on your face is what they don't see."

Koop sighed, hands on his hips, a perplexed look on his face as he surveyed the large living room. "Yeah, and what I see is a man's well-lived in castle."

"Don't forget he's married."

"Okay, a couple's castle." Koop looked at the filled book cases and stacks of books and magazines on tables, a half burned log in the fireplace, prints of various sizes filling the wall space, the rugs new, furniture expensive. The classic fashionable environment one would expect for a joint chief.

The agent felt a sense of awe being in Admiral Jessops' home. At the same time he was uneasy, as though the big black man with the booming voice would suddenly march through the door demanding an explanation for the intrusion. At five-eight, the agent imagined looking up at the six-four muscular frame of the navy's top fighting man. He didn't relish the thought.

The two agents went into the kitchen. No messages under magnets on the refrigerator, little inside except milk and juice and a head of lettuce, no clutter on the counters, only another small pile of books on a bench near the breakfast table. Ellis scanned the titles, said, "Have you noticed that there's not a book anywhere dealing with the subject of warfare?"

Koop shook his head. "No, didn't pay much attention."

"Nothing on the Civil War, or the first and second world wars, not even anything relating to historical conflicts, naval battles, warships, or warfare strategy and tactics. Strange for a military man."

Koop asked, "What does he read?"

Ellis pitched him a book. "Stuff like this one. Man's Social Nature and Interpersonal Experiences, reading material for a sociologist or psychologist. He's got a small library in the living room on cultural heritage and forms of collective behavior."

Koop put the book back on the bench and opened the pantry door. Looks like Mrs. Jessops' behavior pattern was to eat out a lot, hardly a basic staple in here. Reminds me of my place."

Ellis smiled. "I've been trying to tell you, Jay, you've got to get yourself married."

"The admiral is, and it hasn't done much for his larder." They laughed, and Koop said, "Let's go look at the bedrooms." The agents climbed the stairs, and after carefully observing the master bedroom and the two guest rooms, Koop remarked, "There are no pictures of the admiral or his wife anywhere, no family history. You'd think there would be a few personal photos on the wall."

"Sure would. She has the face and figure my wife would die for, and his super-hero looks would light up the silver screen. They're beautiful people, but I guess they didn't have to remind themselves of that." He opened the doors to the large closets. "Full. If they packed anything before they left they are sure traveling light. Notice the shoe racks. Empty spaces in each one for the shoes they were wearing."

Koop opened the jewelry box on the dresser. "Look at this. Diamond earrings, emerald bracelet, a variety of rings with expensive stones, pearls and gold necklaces. Good stuff. Rick, I'm getting the impression that their departure was very sudden and dramatic. Got to be a kidnapping. Maybe terrorists got to the admiral at Andrews, drugged him and put him in the trunk of a car. With the right credentials, getting on and off the base would be a simple matter. Then they came back here and abducted Mrs. Jessops."

"The reports from Naval Intelligence could possibly support that theory even though they've discounted it," Ellis said. "The admiral was talking to his aides in the VIP lounge when he was called to the telephone in the base commander's office. When the plane was ready for boarding they went over to get him. He wasn't there. No one had seen him."

"And no one saw him go back through the gate. That's what makes it seem like an abduction to me."

Ellis opened another door, this one leading from the bedroom to the admiral's study. Again no photographs, military books or naval paraphernalia.

"Maybe there's something in his personal papers," Ellis said. He opened the top drawer of the desk. A ballpoint pen, two pencils, paper clips and a blank yellow pad. The side drawers produced only nature magazines, a pocket diary with nothing written in it, and file folders with real estate papers, titles to automobiles, and tax returns. "Not a bill, checkbook, or the normal paper-junk that litters most home work-stations."

"Doesn't make sense," Koop said.

"None of it does. Come on, let's get out of here."

***

Later that afternoon at FBI headquarters, six pairs of Federal agents compared their notes in preparation for a summary report for the director. The Ellis and Koop observations were essentially duplicated by the other teams. Except for closets full of clothes and some jewelry, few personal effects were found in the homes, each dwelling giving the appearance of a part-time residence. And though it could not be explained how Admiral Jessops got past the guard at the air base, or how the others eluded friends and associates, the consensus was they had left on their own accord with no force or struggle involved.