Twelve Times Zero Page 4

  Chapter IV

  Lieutenant Martin Kirk shoved the pile of mimeographed pages aside.Three hours spent in going through the complete transcript of theCordell trial and nothing to show for it but stiff muscles and an achinghead.

  Give it up, a small voice in the back of his mind urged. You haven't gota leg to stand on as far as getting any action out of the authorities.Troy and his gang put the fear of God in that purple-eyed dame andshipped her out of the State. You lose, brother--and so does that poordevil up in Death's Row.

  He drummed his fingers over and over on the arm of his chair andlistened to the every-day sounds of a normal day at the Homicide Bureau.A new day, a new set of problems, and why knock yourself out oversomething that doesn't concern you? Thing to do was go down to thecorner tavern and have a couple of fast ones and watch an old movie ontelevision. Yes sir, that's exactly what he'd do!

  He went back to the mimeographed pages.

  For the fourth time he read through Cordell's testimony of what hadhappened that October afternoon. And it was there that he came acrossthe first possible break in the stone wall.

  Once more Martin Kirk went over the few lines, although by this time hecould have come close to reciting them from memory. It was an excerptfrom Arthur Kahler Troy's cross-examination of the defendant afterCordell's counsel, in a last desperate effort to swing the tide of alosing battle, had placed him on the stand.

  Q: (by Troy): Now, Mr. Cordell, I direct your attention to the point in your testimony at which first entered Professor Gilmore's outer office. At what time was this?

  A: At about 5:45 p.m.

  Q: Who was in the office at that time?

  A: Alma Dakin, the Professor's secretary. And a couple of students--although they were at the other end of the room and I didn't pay much attention to them.

  Q: But you did pay attention, as you call it, to Miss Dakin?

  A: Well, I spoke to her, if that's what you mean.

  Q: That's exactly what I mean, Mr. Cordell. And what was it you said to her?

  A: Something about it was too late in the day to be working so hard.

  Q: That was all?

  A: Yes, sir.

  Q: Remember, Mr. Cordell, you're under oath. Now I ask you again: Was that all you said to her at that time?

  A: Yes, sir.

  Q: It isn't possible you've forgotten some additional remark? Think carefully, please.

  A: No, sir. That's all I said. I swear it.

  Q: Very well. Now how well do you know Miss Dakin?

  A: Just to speak to.

  Q: Have you ever seen her outside Professor Gilmore's office?

  A: No, sir.

  Q: Ever ask her for a date?

  A: No, sir.

  Q: Did you ever have an argument with her? A discussion of any kind that may have become a bit heated?

  A: No, sir.

  Q: Then to your knowledge she'd have no reason to dislike you?

  A: No, sir.

  Q: Very good. Now, Mr. Cordell, I want to read to you an excerpt from the testimony given by Miss Dakin in this court. "Mr. Cordell was looking very angry when he came in. He came up to me and bent down over the desk and said so low I could hardly hear him: 'Hi, Alma. You think the Prof's through making love to my wife?'" I now ask you, Paul Cordell, isn't that what you said to Alma Dakin? Not that she was working too hard, or whatever it was you claimed to have said.

  A: No, sir. I didn't say anything like she said I did. I wouldn't insult my wife by saying such a thing to a third--

  Q: Just answer the questions, Mr. Cordell. Then you contend that Miss Dakin deliberately lied in her testimony.

  A: She was mistaken.

  Q: Oh, come now! Miss Dakin is an intelligent girl; she couldn't misunderstand or twist your words to that extent. Now could she?

  A: Then she lied. I never said anything like that.

  Q: What reason would she have for lying, Mr. Cordell? By your own statement she hardly knew you, always greeted you pleasantly on the times you came to the office, never got into any arguments with you, and never saw you outside the office. She had worked for Professor Gilmore for five or six months, has excellent references, and is well liked by her friends. Yet you're asking us to believe that she coldly and deliberately lied to get you into trouble. Is that true?

  A: All I know is she lied.

  * * * * *

  The break was there all right, Kirk thought grimly. For if Cordell wasinnocent, then he had told the truth during the trial. And if he hadtold the truth about his remark to Alma Dakin, then, automatically, AlmaDakin's testimony was untrue.

  Kirk ran his fingers through his hair in a gesture of bafflement. Whatpossible reason could Gilmore's secretary have for going out of her wayto lie about Cordell's remark? Was it because she was so certain he hadkilled her employer that she wanted to make sure he would be punished?

  Or was it because she wanted to shield the real killer? Maybe she was afriend of Naia North's and had known the blonde girl was in Gilmore'slaboratory all along. She might even have deliberately steered everyoneout of her office after Cordell discovered the bodies, making itpossible for Naia to slip out unseen.

  It was a slender lead, but the only one large enough to get even afingernail grip on. He drew the phone over in front of him and began aseries of calls designated to give him more information about AlmaDakin.

  A call to the University took him through a couple of secretaries beforehe reached the right person. Her name was Miss Slife, personnel directorof all non-teaching employees. Miss Dakin? Why, of course! A lovely girland very dependable. She had come to the University in search of aposition only a day or two before Miss Collins, Professor Gilmore'sprevious secretary, had resigned. Since Miss Dakin's references showedthat she had worked for a short time as secretary to Dr. Karney, one ofthe co-discoverers of the atom bomb (according to Miss Slife), she hadbeen engaged to take Miss Collins' place. Professor Gilmore, poor man,had been very pleased with the change and everybody was happy: MissCollins at inheriting a vary large sum of money from a relative she'dnever even heard of, Miss Dakin at being able to get such a niceposition, and _dear_ Professor Gilmore at finding such a satisfactoryreplacement.

  When Miss Slife had run down, Kirk said, "This Dr. Karney. Why did MissDakin leave him?"

  The woman at the other end of the wire seemed astonished by Kirk'signorance. "Why, I assumed _everybody_ knew about Dr. Karney. He died ofa heart attack about eight months ago."

  "_What!_"

  "Goodness, there's no need to shout, Mr. Kirk. He was connected withClement University, out in California, and suffered a stroke of somekind while at work."

  Kirk thanked her dazedly and broke the connection. This, he toldhimself, is too much a coincidence to _be_ a coincidence! Two prominentnuclear scientists dying suddenly within seven months of each other atopposite ends of the country--and both of them with the same secretaryat the time of their deaths!

  A sudden thought sent him leafing rapidly through the trial transcriptto the place where Paul Cordell had told of the disjointed phrases heclaimed to have heard before he pushed into Professor Gilmore'slaboratory. The words he sought seemed to stand out in letters offire: "... three in the past five months...."

  * * * * *

  Again he caught up the telephone receiver, aware that his heart waspounding with excitement, and dialed a number.... "_Bulletin?_ Hello;let me talk to Jerry Furness.... Jerry, this is Martin Kirk at Homicide.Look, do something for me. I want to find out how many top nuclearfission boys have died in the past four or five months.... No, no;nothing like that. Some of the boys down here were having an argumentabout.... Sure; I'll hold on."

  He propped the receiver betw
een his ear and shoulder and groped for acigar. In the office beyond the partition of his cubbyhole a woman wassobbing. Chenowich went past his open door whistling a radio commercial.

  The receiver against his ear began to vibrate. "Yeah, Jerry.... Four of'em, hey? Let's have their names." He picked up a pencil and took downthe information. "_Uh-hunh!_ Three heart attacks and one murder.Check.... You mean _all_ of them? Tough life, I guess.... Yeah, sure.Anytime. So long."

  He replaced the receiver with slow care and leaned back to study thelist of names. Not counting the last name--Gilmore's--threeworld-renowned men in the field of nuclear physics had dropped dead fromheart failure within the designated span of months.

  Coincidence? Maybe. But he was in no mood for coincidences. If thedeaths of these four scientists was the result of some sinister plan,who was responsible? Some foreign power, concerned about this country'sgrowing mastery of nuclear fission? Was it his duty to notify the FBI ofhis findings and let them take over from here?

  He shook his head. Too early for anything like that. He needed moreevidence--evidence not to be explained away as coincidence.

  Once more Lieutenant Martin Kirk went back to analyzing the brokenphrases Cordell had picked up while eavesdropping that Octoberafternoon. _Twelve times zero_ made no sense at all ... unless it couldbe the combination of a safe...? Hardly possible; no combination he'dever heard of would read that way. The next one, then ... _chained totwo hundred thousand years_.... Another blank; could mean anything ornothing. Next: _A: ... sounded like the Professor said something likehis colleges had no idea and he'd see they were warned right away._

  Kirk bit thoughtfully down on a corner of his lip. Gilmore didn't ownany colleges and how do you go about warning one? Maybe the word was_college_, meaning the one where he had his laboratory. But actually itwasn't a college at all; it was a university. Not much difference to theman in the street, but to the Professor.... Wait a minute! Not_colleges_! _Colleagues!_ It was his colleagues Gilmore had promised towarn. And the word meant men and women in the same line of work as theProfessor--nuclear physics. Things, Kirk told himself with elation, werelooking up!

  The business about "three in the past five months" was next, but he feltsure of what that had meant. But the last of the quotations went nowhereat all.

  "Something about _taking in washing_--" Under less tragic circumstances,a nonsense line. But Cordell hadn't actually heard the words clearlyenough to quote them with authority. That could mean he had heard wordsthat sounded _like_ "taking in washing."

  Taking, baking, making, slaking, raking--the list seemed endless."Washing" could have been the first two syllables of Washington--andWashington would be the place where the Atomic Energy Commission hungout.

  Still too hazy. He leaned back and put his feet up and attacked thethree mysterious words from every conceivable angle. No dice.

  * * * * *

  Sight of the ambling figure of Patrolman Chenowich passing the officedoor caught his eye, reminding him that two heads were often better thanone. "Hey, Frank."

  Chenowich came in. "Yeah, Lieutenant. Somethin' doin'?"

  "I'm trying to figure out a little problem," Kirk explained carelessly."Let's say you hear a guy talking in the next room. You can't reallymake out the words he's saying, but right in the middle of his mumblingyou hear what sounds like 'taking in washing.' Now you know that can'tbe right, so you try to think out what he actually _did_ say...."

  It was obvious Chenowich had fallen off on the first curve, socompletely off that Kirk didn't bother finishing what was much tooinvolved to begin with. The patrolman was staring at him in monstrousperplexity.

  "Jeez, Lieutenant. I don't get it. 'Less the guy's goin' to open up oneof these here laundries. That way he'd be takin' in washin'. But I don'tknow what else--"

  Kirk's feet hit the floor with a solid thump and he grabbed Chenowich'swrist with fingers that bit in like steel. "Say that again!" he shouted."Say it just that way!"

  The patrolman recoiled in alarm. "What's got into you, Lieutenant? Say_what_?"

  "Taking in washing!"

  "Takin' in washin'? What for?"

  Kirk's grin threatened to split his face, "The same words," he said,"but you say them different. Only your way's the right way! Thanks, pal.Now get out of here!"

  Chenowich went. His mouth was still open and his expression stilltroubled, but he went.

  The last of the killer's cryptic remarks was now clear. For Kirkrealized that "takin'" rhymed with words you'd never associate with"taking." "Bacon", for instance--or "Dakin"! Alma Dakin, formersecretary to two widely separated, and now dead, nuclear scientists. Hername had been mentioned by the slayer of Professor Gilmore only secondsbefore she had clubbed the savant to death.

  But now that "taking" had come out "Dakin"--what did the rest of thephrase mean? _Dakin in washing_ made no sense. What sounded like_washing_? Washing; washing ... _watching_? It was close; in factnothing he could think of came closer.

  All right. _Dakin in watching_; no. _Dakin is watching_--that madesense. But Alma Dakin hadn't been watching anything at the time of thekilling; she, according to Cordell, was at her desk in the outer office.That would leave _Dakin was watching_ as the right combination. Watchingfor the right opportunity for murder!

  What did it mean? Well, assuming from her past record that Alma Dakinwas mixed up in the deaths of two prominent men of science, it arguedthat she and Naia North were accomplices in a scheme to rid America ofher nuclear fission experts. The nice smooth story of killing Gilmorebecause of unrequited love was probably as much a lie as the personalinformation Naia North had given Arthur Kahler Troy.

  The North girl had confessed to murdering Gilmore and Juanita Cordell.As a confessed killer she must be taken into custody and booked onsuspicion of homicide. Taking her was Martin Kirk's job--and it seemedhe had a contact that would lead him to her. Namely Alma Dakin.

  Lieutenant Kirk grabbed his hat and went out the door.