Vixen 03 Part 52

"Good afternoon, Colonel. What brings you to Dayton City?"

"I'm looking for the post commander, a Mr. Billy Lovell."

"I'm Billy Lovell. What can I do for you?"

"How do you do," said Steiger politely. "My name is Steiger, Abe Steiger. I've come from Washington on a rather urgent matter."

Lovell stared at Steiger, his eyes friendly but speculative. "You're putting me on, Colonel. I suppose you're going to tell me a top-secret Russian spy satellite came down in a field somewhere near town."

Steiger gave a casual tilt of his head. "Nothing that dramatic. I'm looking for a couple of naval sh.e.l.ls your post purchased from Phalanx Arms."

"Oh, them two duds?"

"Duds?"

"Yeah, we were going to blow 'em up during the Veterans Day picnic. Set 'em on an old tractor and popped away all afternoon, but they didn't go off. We tried to get Phalanx to replace 'em." Lovell shook his head sadly. "They refused. Claimed all sales was final."

A chilling thought pa.s.sed through Steiger's mind. "Perhaps they're not the self-detonating type of ordnance."

"Nope." Lovell shook his head. "Phalanx guaranteed they was live battleship sh.e.l.ls."

"Do you still have them?"

"Sure, right outside. You pa.s.sed 'em coming in."

Lovell led Steiger outside. The two sh.e.l.ls bordered the entrance to the post. They were painted white, and welded to their sides were chains that stretched along the walkway.

Steiger sucked in his breath. The tips of the sh.e.l.ls were rounded. They were two of the missing gas sh.e.l.ls. His knees suddenly turned to rubber,

and he had to sit down on the steps. Lovell stared questioningly at Steiger's dazed expression.

"Somethin' wrong?"

"You shot at these things?" Steiger asked incredulously.

"Pumped close to a hundred rounds at 'em. Nicked the heads some, but that's all."

"It's a miracle ..." Steiger murmured.

"A what?"

"Those are not explosive sh.e.l.ls," Steiger explained. "They're gas sh.e.l.ls. Their firing mechanisms will not self-activate until the parachutes are released. Your bullets had no effect because unlike ordinary explosive projectiles, they had not been preset to detonate."

"Whooee!" gasped Lovell. "You mean them things has poison gas in 'em?"

Steiger merely nodded.

"My Gawd, we might have wiped out half the county."

"And then some," Steiger muttered under his breath. He rose from the steps. "I'd like to borrow your John and a telephone, in that order."

"Sure, you come along. The John is down the hall to your left and there's a phone in my office." Lovell stopped and his eyes turned canny. "If we give you them sh.e.l.ls ... well, I was wonderin' ..."

"I promise you and your post will receive ten sixteen-inch sh.e.l.ls in prime explosive condition, enough to give your next Veterans Day picnic a super bang."

Lovell grinned from ear to ear. "You're on, Colonel."

In the rest room Steiger ran cold water over his face. The eyes that stared back in the mirror were red and tired, but they also radiated hope. He had successfully tracked down two of the Quick Death warheads. He could only pray that Pitt was as fortunate.

Steiger picked up the phone in Lovell's office and asked the operator to put through a collect long-distance call.

Pitt was asleep on a couch in his NUMA office when his secretary, Zerri Pochinsky, leaned over and gently shook him awake. Her long fawn-colored hair hung down, framing a face that was warm and pretty and full of merry admiration.

"You've got a visitor and two calls," she said in a soft Southern drawl.

Pitt pushed aside the cobwebs and sat up. "The calls?" he said.

"Congresswoman Smith," Zerri answered with a trace of acidity,

"and Colonel Steiger on long distance."

"And the visitor?"

"Says his name is Sam Jackson. He doesn't have an appointment but he insists that it's important."

Pitt began to pull his sleep-fogged mind to even keel. "I'll take Steiger's call first. Tell Loren I'll call her back, and send in Jackson as soon as I'm off the phone."

Zerri nodded. "The colonel is on line three."

He walked unsteadily to the desk and punched one of the blinking b.u.t.tons. "Abe?"

"Greetings from sunny Oklahoma."

"How'd it go?"

"Paydirt," said Steiger. "Scratch two warheads."

"Nice work," Pitt said, smiling for the first time in days. "Any problems?"

"None. I'll stand by until a crew arrives to pick them up."

"I've got a NUMA Catlin loaded with a forklift sitting at Dulles. Where can they set down?"

"One second."

Pitt could hear m.u.f.fled voices as Steiger conversed with someone at the other end of the line.

"Okay," Steiger said. "The post commander says there is a small private airfield about eight hundred yards long a mile south of town."