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"You officers, the few among you who were sober enough that is, may have heard an explosion and seen a cloud of smoke while you were on the way here. This explosion was caused by an individual who entered this base and is still undetected in our midst. We know nothing about him, but suspect that he is an offworld spy…"
This drew a gasp and a murmur as might be expected and the gray man waited a moment until he continued.
"We are making an intensive search for this individual. Since you gentlemen were in the immediate vicinity I am going to talk to you one at a time to find out what you might know. I also may discover… which one of you is the missing spy."
This last shaft exacted only a shocked silence. Now that he had everyone in the right mental condition for cross-examining the gray man began calling officers forward one at a time. I was doubly grateful for the foresight that had dropped me off the truck onto the side of my head.
It was no accident that I was the third man called forward. On what grounds? General resemblance in build to the offworld spy Pas Ratunkowy? My delayed arrival at Glupost? The bandage? Some basis of suspicion must have existed. I dragged forward with slow speed just as the others had done. I saluted and he pointed to the chair next to the desk.
"Why don't you hold this while we talk," he said in a reasonable voice, passing over the silver egg of a polygraph transmitter.
The real Vaska would not have recognized it, so I didn't. I just looked at it with slight interest—as though I did not know it was transmitting vital information to the lie detector before him—and clutched it in my hand. My thoughts were not as calm.
I'm caught! He has me! He knows who I am and is just toying with me!
He looked deep into my bloodshot eyes and I detected a slight curl of distaste to his mouth.
"You have had quite a night of it. Lieutenant Hulja," he said quietly, his eyes on the sheaf of papers—and on the lie detector readout as well.
"Yes sir, you know… having a few last drinks with the boys." That was what I said aloud. What I thought was 'They will shoot me, dead, right through the heart!' and I could visualize that vital organ spouting my life's blood into the dirt.
"I see you recently had your rank reduced—and where are your fuses. Pas Ratunkowy?" Am I tired… wish I was in the sack I thought.
"Fuses, sir?" I blinked my red orbs and reached to scratch my head and touched the bandage and thought better of it. His eyes glared into mine, gray eyes almost the color of his uniform, and for a moment I caught the strength and anger behind his quiet ma
"And your head wound—where did you get that? Our offworld spy was struck on the side of the head."
"I fell, sir, someone must have pushed me. Out of the truck. The soldiers bandaged it, ask them…"
"I already have. Drunk and falling down and a disgrace to the officer corps. Get away and clean yourself up, you disgust me. Next man."
I climbed unsteadily to my feet, not looking into the steady glare of those cold eyes, and stared off as though I had forgotten the device in my hand, then turned back and dropped it on his desk, but he was bent over the papers and ignoring me. I could see a faint scar under the thin hair of his balding crown. I left.
Fooling a polygraph takes skill, practice and training. All of which I had. It can only be done in certain circumstances and this one had been ideal. A sudden interview without normalizing tests being run on the subject. Therefore I began the interview in a near panic—before any questions had been asked. All of this must have peaked nicely on his graph. I was afraid. Of him, of something, anything. But when he had asked the loaded question meant to uncover a spy—the question I knew was coming—I had relaxed and the readout had shown this. The question was a meaningless one to anyone but the offworlder. Once he saw this the interview was over, he had plenty more to do.
Otrov was sitting up, cold sober, eyes as big as plates when I came back and dropped onto the bench next to him.
"What did he want?" He spoke in a hollow whisper.
"I don't know. He asked me something or other that I didn't know about and then it was over."
"I hope he doesn't want to talk to me."
"Who is he?"
"Don't you know!" With shocked incredulity. I tread warily, covering my complete lack of information.
"Well you know I just came here…"
"But everyone knows Kraj."
"Is that him…?" I gasped it out and tried to look as frightened as he did and it seemed to work, because he nodded and looked over his shoulder and quickly back again. I rose and went to the latrine again to terminate the conversation at this spot. Everyone knew about Kraj.
Who was Kraj?