Someone's been in here, he thought angrily. And then the anger changed to agony as he remembered what had been in Lamarre's portfolio, and what would happen if that formula were loosed indiscriminately in the world.
[IX]
The odd part of it, Walton thought, was that there was absolutely nothing he could do.
He could call Sellors and give him a roasting for not guarding his office properly, but that wouldn't restore the missing portfolio.
He could send out a general alarm, and thereby let the world know that there was such a thing as Lamarre's formula. That would be catastrophic.
Walton slammed the cabinet shut and spun the lock. Then, heavily, he dropped into his chair and rested his head in his arms. All the jubilation of a few moments before had suddenly melted into dull apprehension.
Suspects? Just two—Lamarre, and Fred. Lamarre because he was obvious; Fred because he was likely to do anything to hurt his brother.
"Give me Sellors in security," Walton said quietly.
Sellors' bland face appeared on the screen. He blinked at the sight of Walton, causing Walton to wonder just how ghastly his own appearance was; even with the executive filter touching up the transmitted image, sprucing him up and falsifying him for the public benefit, he probably looked dreadful.