Too Many Murders(42)

The only top-secret modification Landmark had lost to the Communists was a new gunsight, Purvey said.

“Our real aim,” he went on, “is years away—namely, to link artillery fire to computers able to calculate the target precisely. It’s colossally complicated, and will require our sending up satellites whose function is to plot the globe. So it’s not exclusively Cornucopia. In fact, we only have a little corner of it. Everyone’s involved, from NASA on down.”

“What effect would concrete knowledge of the project have on Russian or Chinese defense plans?” Carmine asked.

“Serious, very serious. They smell something, but there are just too many cheeses on the board.”

“What if Ulysses knows?”

“Knows what? The thing I’ve just outlined to you, Captain, is so speculative and—and—ephemeral that I for one have no faith in our ability to do it.”

“I thank you for your candor, Mr. Purvey. Now to other things. Are you married?”

“I was, but not for the last ten years.” Purvey grinned. “In my opinion, women aren’t worth the pain. I’d want a quiet meal at home, she’d want to go to a party or a reception, get her picture in the society pages. My fault! I should have married one of my own kind. Instead I married a cocktail waitress. I mean, I don’t mind a party or a reception, but not every goddamn night!”

“Any children?”

“No. They would have slowed her down.”

“Do you date?”

“Oh, sure.”

“Anyone I know?”

“Erica Davenport. She’s my regular. Socially acceptable, a good blind for a guy who’s still a sucker for cocktail waitresses. Erica’s a good sport.”

“What do you spend your money on, Mr. Purvey?”

“Donzi motorboats. I’ve got a cabin on Moosehead Lake in Maine—Connecticut’s lakes are too crowded.”

“How do you make it way up to Maine for a weekend?”

“Fly my Sikorsky helicopter—I’m loyal to the locals.”

“Do you travel regularly to anywhere else?”

“New York City. I have an apartment on East Seventy-eighth.”

“Do you have a favorite cocktail waitress?”

“No, sir! I learned my lesson. Nowadays I cruise.”

“Thank you, Mr. Purvey.”

Carmine descended six more floors to Dormus, apparently so successful that it occupied three of them.

Here he met blue jeans, Caterpillar boots, a faded shirt and no tie at all. Mr. Wallace Grierson dressed the part of a turbine engineer, and carried it off convincingly. He was not unlike Ted Kelly in build—very tall and muscularly heavy—but he had fair and freckled skin, a mop of sandy curls, and shrewd grey eyes. Carmine liked him on sight.

“I’m only here, Captain, because I was ordered to be here,” he announced across the acreage of his boots, up on the desk. “By rights I should be at my factory.”

“Sorry about that, Mr. Grierson,” Carmine said, sitting down. “I didn’t think there were any hands-on executives, at least on a board level. What’s so different about Dormus?”

“Nothing. I’m the difference. Unlike those tailor’s dummies, I actually qualified as an engineer, and nobody else is going to run Dormus, including on the shop floor.”

“Have you lost any top-secret items to the Reds?”

The question didn’t faze him in the least. “In two separate divisions, Captain. The first, development of the ramjet, which pushes standard-wing planes up over Mach two. The second, our rocket division, where the leaks have been hot and heavy. It was the discovery of my governor on a Russian rocket that opened this whole can of worms, and I am fit to be tied! If Ulysses isn’t put out of business soon, Cornucopia is dead.”

“Are defense contracts so vital to Cornucopia?”

“Hell, yes! Des Skeps wanted it that way—he got a charge out of manufacturing America’s defense. Even if we go into new areas outside defense, Captain, we’re just as vulnerable to the spy. Industrial espionage is actually more serious than the treasonous kind to any manufacturer who goes into new territory. It’s a dog-eat-dog world, in case you haven’t noticed.”

“But the treasonous kind benefits America’s real enemies.” Carmine changed tack. “You don’t look like a man with millions.”

“Whereas the tailor’s dummies do. I could buy and sell Phil Smith or Fred Collins, and I’m neck-and-neck with Gus Purvey.”

“Are you married?”

“Sure! We had our silver anniversary five months ago. We met at CalTech, both doing engineering.”