Broward pointed at the corpses. "Why?"
"They had their orders," said Scone. "Which were to allow no one into the control room without proper authorization. I didn't want to argue and so put them on their guard. I had to do what was expedient."
Scone glared at Broward, and he said, "Expediency is going to be the rule for this day. No matter who suffers."
Broward said, "You don't have to kill me, too. I am an American. If I could think as coolly as you, I might have done the same thing myself."
He paused, took a deep breath, and said, "Perhaps, you didn't do this on the spur of the moment. Perhaps, you planned this long before. If such a situation as this gave you a chance."
"We haven't time to stand here gabbing," said Scone.
He backed away, his gun and gaze steady on Broward. With his other hand, he felt around until the free end of the thin tube fitted into the depression in the middle of the door. He pressed in on the key, and (the correct sequence of radio frequencies activating the unlocking circuit) the door opened.
Scone motioned for Broward to precede him. Broward entered. Scone came in, and the door closed behind him.
"I thought I should kill you when we were behind the bank," said Scone. "But you weren't—as far as I had been able to determine—a Russian agent. Far from it. And you were, as you said, a fellow American. But...."