The Satan Bug by Alistair MacLean Read Free Book Online Page A

mistake—and a big one."
    " Maybe," Hardanger rumbled. " And maybe you're oversimplifying and taking too much for granted. Assumptions. How do you know Clandon was killed here? You've said yourself we're up against a clever man, a man who would be more likely than not to obscure things, to cause confusion, to cast suspicions in the wrong place by killing Clandon elsewhere and then dragging him here. And it's asking too much to believe that he just happened to have a cyanide sweet in his pocket that he just happened to hand to Clandon when Clandon just happened to find him doing what he was doing."
    " About the second part I don't know," I said. " I should have thought myself that Clandon would have been highly suspicious of anyone he found here late at night, no matter who he was. But Clandon died right here, that's for sure." I looked at Cliveden and Weybridge. "How long for cyanide poisoning to take effect?"
    "Practically instantaneous," Cliveden said.
    " And he was violently ill here," I said. " So he died here. And look at those two faint scratches on the plaster of the wall. A lab check on his finger-nails is almost superfluous; that's where he clawed for support as he fell to the floor. Some 'friend' gave Clandon that sweet, and that's why I'd like the wallet, cigarette case and books of matches printed.
    There's just a chance in a thousand that the friend may have been offered a cigarette or a match, or that he went through Clandon's wallet after he was dead. But I don't think there's even that chance in a thousand. But I think the prints on that door should be interesting. And informative. Ill take a hundred to one in anything you like that the prints on that door will be exclusively of those entitled to pass through that door. What I really want to find out is whether there's been any signs of deliberately smearing, as with a handkerchief or gloves, in the vicinity of the combination, time-lock or circular handle."
    " There will be," Hardanger nodded. " If your assumption that this is strictly an inside job is correct, there will be. To bring in the possibility of outsiders."
    "There's still Clandon," I said.
    Hardanger nodded again, turned away to watch his two men working on the door. Just then a soldier came up with a large fibre case and a small covered cage, placed it on the floor, saluted nobody in particular and left. I caught the inquiring lift of Cliveden's eyebrow.
    "When I go into the lab," I said, "I go in alone. In that case is a gas-tight suit and closed circuit breathing apparatus that I’ll be wearing. I lock the steel door behind me, open the inner door and take the hamster in this cage in with me. If he's still alive after a few minutes—well, it's clear inside."
    "A hamster?" Hardanger turned his attention from the door, moved across to the cage and lifted the cover. " Poor little beggar. Where did you acquire a hamster so conveniently?"
    " Mordon is the easiest place in Britain to acquire a hamster conveniently. There must be a couple of hundred of them within a stone's throw from here. Not to mention a few thousand guinea-pigs, rabbits, monkeys, parrots, mice and fowls. They're bred and reared on Alfringham Farm—where Dr. Baxter has his cottage. Poor little beggar, as you say. They've a pretty short life and far from sweet one. The R.S.P.C.A. and the National Anti-Vivisection Society would sell their souls to get in here. The Official Secrets Act sees to it that they don't.
    Mordon is their waking nightmare and I don't blame them. Do you know that over a hundred thousand animals died inside these walls last year—
    many of them in agony. They're a sweet bunch in Mordon."
    "Everyone is entitled to his opinions," General Cliveden said coldly. "I don't say I entirely disagree with you." He smiled without humour. " The right place for airing such sentiments, Cavell, but the wrong time."
    I nodded, acknowledgement or apology, he could take it how he liked, and opened the fibre case. I