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guess?”
    Mitch pulled a piece of paper Gunter had
given him from his pocket. “If it’s any help, the sensor was an ‘ultra sonic
MX40 parabolic audiotron’.”
    “I’ve heard of it,” Hayes muttered with a
hint of admiration. “Illegal to civilians, but very nice. I won’t ask how you
got hold of one . . . I can dig up a spec on it, filter out its bias.” Hayes
shook his head thoughtfully. “The God damned noisemakers kill a lot of the frequencies,
but someone’s done a good job filtering them out.”
    “Amazing, you can tell all that in just
twenty minutes,” Christa said approvingly.
    “You get a good ear tracking Russian
boomers. Can I keep this? I can run a detailed analysis with the Academy
facilities, we have a decent signature library that might turn up something.”
    “I was hoping you’d say that,” Mitch said.
    “Any idea what this is a recording of, anything
that might show me where to look?”
    “It could be anything from a high tech
weapon to a hair dryer,” Mitch replied.
    “Not sure the signature library has much on
hair dryers.”
    “Just be careful,” Christa warned. “If the
wrong people knew you had this recording, you’d be in a lot of trouble.”
    Mitch revealed the gun he was carrying. “She’s
not talking legal trouble Don.”
    Commander Hayes raised his eyebrows. “I’m a
submariner, Mitch, not a gunfighter.”
    “I just don’t want you underestimating the
opposition.”
    Hayes looked thoughtful. “Understood.” He
ejected the disk from his computer and placed it in his pocket. “All right! Are
you swabs ready for the galley now?”
     
     
     

Chapter
4
     
     
    The telephone on Mitch's bedside table
woke him, just after midnight. He rolled over and grabbed for it blindly. “Hello?”
    “John Mitchell?”
    “Yeah,” he yawned, forcing himself awake.
    “This is Lawrence Rayborne, from the
Appropriations Committee.” His voice was agitated, a mix of anger and fear.
    Mitch sat up. “Yes, Mr Rayborne. You’re
working late.”
    “We need to talk.”
    “You’ve got something for me?”
    “I want to know just what the hell you’ve
got me into!”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I asked a few questions about this Siren
thing, and now I have these people all over me. They’ve been watching me all
day. Asking me questions.”
    “What people? Who did you talk to?”
    “One of the senators. You didn’t tell me
this was a black project. I never get involved in those things. I want to give
you your money back. The deal’s off.”
    “A black project?”
    “Be in my office at ten, tomorrow. I’ll
give you a check for the money you deposited in my account, and then there’ll
be no more communication between us. Good night.” Rayborne hung up, leaving the
busy signal buzzing in Mitch’s ear.
    He’s afraid.
     
    * * * *
     
    Mitch and Christa arrived at
Rayborne’s office a few minutes before ten. Mitch had wanted to leave Christa
in the hotel because he now assumed Rayborne’s office was under surveillance,
but she was implacable. When they reached the outer office, the secretary was
nowhere to be seen and Rayborne’s inner office door was closed. Christa took a
seat while Mitch looked around the reception area, then glanced out into the
hall searching for someone to announce their arrival. Finding no one, he
wandered over to Rayborne’s door and placed his ear close to it, but heard
nothing.
    “Can I help you?” a woman’s voice sounded
from the hallway door.
    Mitch spun around, then silently cursed
himself for being caught off guard. “Yes, we have an appointment with Mr
Rayborne at ten.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought all his appointments
had been cancelled. Mr Rayborne is sick today.”
    “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
    The woman shrugged helplessly. “No, I
don’t.” She stepped into the office. “He’s been working very hard, and is
taking some personal time, on doctor's orders.”
    Christa stood up slowly. “What do you