"Only a few minutes."
Three men filed quietly into Smith's room as soon as the nurse removed his luncheon tray. They stood in a semi-circle around the foot of his bed.
Agent Frank Cowles opened a black leather folder the size of a small billfold and presented his credentials. He introduced General Sanders and Security Officer Busch. It was the first time any of the men had seen John O'Hara Smith. The reports had called him pudgy, but now he had lost twenty pounds and his cheek bones were gaunt under his pallid skin. He wore unusually thick, dark-rimmed glasses that magnified his eyes and gave him an owlish appearance. He returned their scrutiny with a mixture of assurance and impatience, like a professor waiting for his class to come to order.
"Good morning, gentlemen," he said tartly. "It's about time someone came to see me about this...."
Cowles cleared his throat and suggested cautiously:
"Then you're willing to give us a statement, Dr. Smith?"
"Don't talk drivel, man! How are you going to know anything about it if I don't make a statement!"
Though still weak, Dr. Smith's voice had a high, imperious quality. Clearly, he did not wish to waste time or strength on mere conversation.
The three men exchanged glances. Cowles and Amos Busch took out notebooks.
"Now, Dr. Smith," Cowles began, "what is your view as to the nature of the explosion in your trailer and the reason for it?"