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Mike narrowed his eyes and turned on his door screen, which connected with an eye in the outer door of the suite. Who could it be this time? It was Sergeant Cowder. "You got here fast," said Mike, thumbing the unlocker. "Come on back to my office." The sergeant came through the outer office while Mike watched him on the screen.
As he worked, he said: "You think you know where the rocket was fired from?" "Almost positive," said Cowder. "We got a call a few minutes back from the Cathedral of St. John the Divine." The last of the tape fell off, and Mike opened the door. It didn't work easily, but it did open. The odor of bitter almonds was so faint that it might actually have been imagination.
The door announcer chimed again, and Cowder said: "That's probably the lab boys. I told them to come over here as soon as they could finish up at the cathedral." Mike checked his screen and when Cowder identified the men at the door, Mike let them in. The short, chubby man in the lead, who was introduced as Perkins, spoke to Sergeant Cowder first. "We checked one of those rockets.
The girl you caught and the boy who got killed over at the cathedral are brother and sister." "That explains it," Mike said. "Rough family, eh?" Sergeant Cowder shook his head. "Not really. The parents are respectable and fairly well off. Larchmont's the name. The kids are Susan and Herbert Sue and Bert to you. Bert's sixteen, Sue's seventeen.
The way it was done smacks of a kid's trick." Cowder looked at the door. "Think we can go in there now? The HCN ought to have cleared out by now." Mike stood up from behind his desk. "I imagine it's pretty clear. I checked the air conditioners; they're still working, and the filters are efficient enough to take care of an awful lot of hydrogen cyanide. Besides, the window is open.
Not until the officer finally pushed open the door to Mike's own office did Mike the Angel look up from the screen. "I repeat," said Mike, "you got here fast." "I wasn't far away," said Cowder. "Where's the damage?" Mike jerked a thumb toward the door to his apartment, still sealed with tape. "In there." "Have you been back in there yet?" "Nope," said Mike. "I didn't want to disturb anything.
I figure that whoever was on the outside, in that truck, knew something had gone wrong as soon as the fight started in here. He or they shut off whatever they were using to suppress the alarm system and took off before we got here. They sure must have moved fast." "Must have," agreed Harry. "Is there anything else, Sergeant?" Cowder shook his head. "Not right now.
"Then what happened?" asked the detective. Mike told him a carefully edited version of what had occurred, leaving out the existence of the little gadget he was carrying in his pocket. The sergeant listened patiently and unbelievingly through the whole recital. Mike the Angel grinned to himself; he knew what part of the story seemed queer to the cop. He was right. Cowder said: "Now, wait a minute.
"I'd like to speak to Detective Sergeant William Cowder, please," Mike said. "Just tell him that Mr. Gabriel has more problems." She looked puzzled, but she nodded, and pretty soon her image blanked out. The screen stayed blank, but Sergeant Cowder's voice came over the speaker. "What is it, Mr. Gabriel?" He was evidently speaking from a pocket phone. "Attempted murder," said Mike the Angel.
He rubbed one big finger over the tip of his nose. "Okay, Barton, that's all. Take those two kids to the hospital and book 'em in the detention ward. I want to talk to them when they wake up." The cop nodded and left. Sergeant Cowder looked back at Harry. "Your alarm to the precinct station went off at six thirty-six.
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