Tuning William - Fuzzy Bones

He leaned forward and knocked out his pipe. "I don't know about the rest of you," he said, "but I'm for getting a good night's sleep in my own bed-for a change."

Gerd got to his feet as Jack did. "I'll walk across the Run with you, Jack,"

he said. "I've been sitting all day."

At last, Jack thought. "Sure, Gerd," he said. "Why not have a nightcap at my place? The women are probably dying to talk about a dozen things without us around, anyway."

Chapter 35

"What make do, Cobra-Eyes?"

O'Bannon's head jerked around instinctively, his face already formed into a scowl. He was standing in his tent, in his undershirt and sock feet, and had

just finished fastening the spiral-nebula-and-anchor insignia to a fresh field-green shirt that hung from one of the ridge rings.

There was no one there-not at eye-level, anyway. He looked down and located his visitor; a Fuzzy with a khaki barracks cover cocked on the back of his head, who had one foot crossed over the other and was leaning on his steel shoppo-diggo.

"What make do, Cobra-Eyes?" Starwatcher repeated. The scowl vanished as O'Bannon squatted down and extended his hand to the Fuzzy. "What's all this stuff about 'Cobra-Eyes?' "he said, although he knew the answer perfectly well. "Where'd you get that one, Starwatcher?"

Starwatcher extended a tiny hand in greeting. ' "That what all Greensuit Hagga call you," he said. "Must be your front name. Is so?"

O'Bannon knew full well that the men of the First Battalion referred to him as

"Cobra-Eyes," behind his back. As a matter of fact, he took a good deal of secret pride in it, but for morale purposes he had to pretend offense when someone let the term slip in his presence. As a matter of fact, the nickname was spreading. Spies informed him that Colonel Tom McGraw, the commander of the Marine brigade stationed on Xerxes-and his immediate superior-so identified him with such regularity that it was becoming common for officers on Alex Napier's staff to routinely refer to him as "old Cobra-Eyes."

"It's not a front name," O'Bannon said. "It's a nickname."

Starwatcher wrinkled his nose. "Nich-name?" he said, his vocal machinery clicking a bit over the unfamiliar word.

"Right," O'Bannon said, "except they all think I don't know about it."

Starwatcher's face brightened. "Oh," he said. "Is same as Unka Vida' so-say other Greensuit Hagga be 'S.O.B.' Is so?"

O'Bannon suppressed the desire to laugh. "Yes," he said soberly. "Is so."

Starwatcher nodded decisively. "I know, you know; but I not supposed to act so you know." He shrugged. "Hagga do many-many that make no sense to Fuzzies.

Many-many things for Fuzzies to learn. Now," he said, pointing at the shirt with his shoppo-diggo, "what make do?"

"Changing clothes," O'Bannon said, as he shucked on the field-green shirt and buttoned it. "I'm going on a trip. Would you like to come along?"

"Tip?" Starwatcher said. "What mean- 't'ip?' "

"Well, you just take a trip down to Investigations and straighten them out, if there's no one in the division who can handle the job." Victor Grego ground out his cigarette with just the proper display of irritation to drive the point home.

Chief Steefer's image in the communication screen looked uncomfortable. "Mr.

Grego," he said, "do you know how long it would take to run security verification on every employee in the Company, even if I had everyone in the Detective Division drop the work at hand and start immediately?"

"Nonsense," Grego snapped. "Every cop we have has waived veridication privacy as a condition of employment. We'll start with you and me-and make damned sure everyone in the Company knows about it. Then, you veridi-cate all your

captains and lieutenants, and they-well, so on down the line. Once that's done, you ask for voluntary compliance from everyone else. I'll back you on it."

"Mr. Grego!" Steefer protested. "It will still take better than six months!"

Good. Harry wasn't using first names. That meant he took this all seriously.

And it meant that Victor Grego was in complete control of the conversation.

"Nonsense, again, Harry," Grego said. "By the time we've done all the senior people and you've put a detective task force on the rest of the job, our security leak will flush from cover and take wing. There might be a half-dozen people involved. You won't have to veridicate more than- say-a couple hundred people before someone starts to crack."

Steefer had his own cop's idea of the problem. Never should have let Grego talk him into bending the rules about that Stone woman. Grego was developing a bad blind spot about her lately. No point in bringing that up, but it couldn't hurt to put a tail on her-strictly on the quiet. Stubby Butler would be the man to trust for that job.

"Isn't this pretty extreme?" Steefer asked. "Just because someone beat us to the punch on a land deal doesn't mean the Company is riddled with spies."

"Oh, faugh!" Grego said. ' The land deal isn 't the important point, Harry.

The point is that no one knew we had decided to aquire that parcel and develop it. Eton Duncan and I had finalized the project plans that afternoon in my office. Next morning, someone had opened an escrow on it." "It could be co-incidence," Steefer ventured. Grego drew his mouth into a tight line. "Like the coincidence of the Navy knowing everything that was said in my office when Henry Stenson had it bugged-with a bug no one could find." Steefer winced.

Looks like I hit a nerve with that one, Grego thought. "It's not your fault, Harry," he said. "No one could have found that bug. The land deal, though, is still not the point." He lighted a cigarette while he waited for Steefer to see the obvious. Steefer didn't. "Look at it this way," Grego said.

"Do you recall the file you brought over and showed me several days ago?"

"Yes," Steefer said. "Yes, I do." He remembered how pleased Grego had been when told that the Company Police had finally infiltrated an undercover man into the ZNPF on Beta.

"If this little land deal can find its way out of a confidential conversation through some leak in the Company, then the contents of that file can escape through the same hole, no matter how tiny it might be."

Recognition flooded across Steefer's face. "Ghu!" he exclaimed. "I never thought of that. lapologize-profusely. I'll get on it immediately."

"Good, "Grego said. "Keep me posted. I'11 make myself available for veridication at your convenience. Might have a better impact if we both did it at the same time."

"That's right," O 'Bannon said to his private communication screen. "We haven't been able to find anything wrong with them, but I want you to put them in quarantine as soon as we arrive on Xerxes. Run a complete psychophysical profile on all six. How long will that take?"

The image of Lieutenant Joseph diCenzo smiled back at O'Bannon from the

screen. "About three standard weeks, Jim," he said. "What if I don't find anything unusual? Stamp 'em 'fit for duty' and ship them back to the unit?"

O'Bannon looked irritated. "No, Joe," he said. "If you don't find anything wrong with them, check back with me. I may want you to repeat the tests."

Joe diCenzo shook his head. "Oh, Jim," he said, and made that clucking sound of disapproval that doctors love to make. "Using the Chief Psychologist as a jailer to buy time in a security isolation situation. Shame on you."

"That's not what I'm doing-" O'Bannon said stiffly. "-exactly."

"It's all right," diCenzo said. "Really it is. Take my word for it; this sort of thing is done all the time."

"We're all agreed, then," Gerd said to Jack. "Ruth says she 'd rather go on up there this evening and get a good night's sleep in the airboat before the Ranger picks us all up in the morning."