McIntosh may have thought of it.”
“McIntosh?”
“Head of this office.” He looked at her thoughtfully for a moment. “Interesting—
highly unpleasant idea.”
“There’s this.” She told him about the night Harry Ellings had gone for a stroll, about Duff’s secret pursuit and about the furtive meeting with the man seven feet tall.
He doodled while she talked. “That’s odd,” he said. “But, again, we’ve got everybody who might be involved in any such a thing pretty well tagged. And there’s no superman in the bunch. I know that. It’s my business to know.”
“Harry Ellings isn’t tagged.”
“No.”
“Isn’t it possible, somehow, that there could be a whole group you aren’t on to?”
His eyes flickered. “Hardly. I won’t say it couldn’t be. We’ve had one or two nasty surprises along that line. Like some of the scientists the high-ups cleared, who turned out later to be plain spies.”