Browne instinctively lowered his voice:
"Smith even suggested that the cylinder would help to offset the roll and yaw in an intercontinental ballistic missile!"
A brittle edge came into the agent's courteous tone:
"Did you report this to security?"
In spite of the air-conditioning unit in the window, the president and owner of Pacific Electronics, Inc., seemed to feel that the room was getting very warm. He ran a fat forefinger under his white collar.
"No," he admitted. "We got the contract, of course—it was a cinch!—and I just wrote it off as a lucky break.... You can see how I'd feel, can't you?"
"Yes," said Cowles, "I can."
Bit by bit, a new picture of the meticulous, professorial Dr. Smith began to emerge from the FBI dossier.
During the working week, his habit had been to keep his trailer in a small park just off Sepulveda Blvd., a half-mile from the Pacific Electronics plant. After work on Fridays, he invariably left for the weekend, usually for any one of a dozen scenic trailer parks along the coast between San Diego and Santa Barbara. He always went alone. No one had ever seen or met "Eddie". Outside of working hours, Smith's only association with his professional colleagues was through the Institute of Research Engineers. He attended monthly meetings, and occasionally wrote dry, abstract articles on theoretical research for the Institute's quarterly journal.
Under microscopic study and chemical analysis, investigators determined that nitro-glycerine had caused the explosion. The fused mass of electronics wreckage in Smith's trailer were identified as parts of a computer assembly. Thousands of dollars had been spent on components over the past three years. Purchases, usually for cash, were traced to various electronic supply companies in the greater Los Angeles area.