"A deserted cabin?"

"Well, of course, we haven't been able to go inside. So I really don't know."

"You haven't gone inside?"

"We don't have a search warrant."

"We'll go inside," Larkin said. "I'll take the responsibility."

Samm, visibly, did not like that.

"Christ," Larkin said. "Don't you think we have reasonable cause, even if there wasn't a threat to the Vice President?"

"You're right, of course," Samm said. He raised his voice. " Meador!"

The large man in the coveralls with FEDERAL AGENT on the back looked at him. Samm waved him over.

"This is Mr. Larkin of the Secret Service," he said. "He wants to have a look inside that house. Will you check it for booby traps, please?"

"No search warrant?" Meador asked.

"Just open the place for me, please," Larkin said. "I'll worry about a search warrant."

"Okay," Meador said.

Meador, with Larkin, Samm, and Matt following him, went to the van and took a toolbox from it, and led the way to the house. They stood to one side as he carefully probed a window for trip wires, and then smashed a pane with a screwdriver.

When he had the window open, he crawled through it. He was inside a minute or two, and then crawled back out.

"The door's clean," he said. "What do I do with the padlock?"

"You got any bolt cutters in that box?" Larkin asked.

Meador was putting bolt cutters in place on the padlock when two men in business suits walked up. Matt was surprised to see Jack Matthews, who was also surprised to see him. The other man, somewhat older, was a redhead, pale-faced, and on the edge between muscular and plump.

"Mr. Larkin," he said, "I'm Frank Young, Criminal A-SAC [Assistant Special Agent in Charge] for the FBI in Philadelphia."

"I think we've met, Frank, haven't we?" Larkin said.

"Yes, sir, now that I see you, I think we have met. Maybe Quantico?"

"How about Denver?" Larkin asked.

"Right. I was in the Denver field office. This is Special Agent Jack Matthews."

"We've met," Larkin said. "And I think you know Matthews too, don' t you, Matt?"

"Yes, indeed," Matt said. "How nice to see you, Special Agent Matthews."

"Why do I think he's needling him?" Larkin said. "Payne is a Philadelphia detective. Do you know each other?"

"I know who he is," Young said, and shook Matt's hand. "What are we doing here?"

"Well, Frank, if you're the Criminal A-SAC, this will be right down your alley," Larkin said. "Detective Payne and I were walking through the woods and came across this building. Into which, I believe, person or persons unknown have recently broken in. We were just about to have a look."

Meador of ATF looked at Larkin and smiled.

"I wouldn't be at all surprised," he said as he lowered his bolt cutters, "if the burglar used a bolt cutter to cut through that padlock."

"That's very astute of you," Larkin said.

"What are we looking for?" Young asked.

"Signs of occupancy. If we get lucky, a name. So we can ask if he' s noticed anything strange, like loud explosions, around here."

"There are tractor tracks that look fresh," Jack Matthews said, pointing.

"Take a look at the dipstick in the tractor engine," Young ordered. "I'll take a look inside."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't open any doors or cabinets until Meador here checks them," Larkin said. "And it would probably be a good idea to watch for trip wires."

"You think this is your bomber?" Young asked.

"I don't know that it's not," Larkin said.

Matthews came into the cabin after a minute or two to report that the tractor battery was charged, and from the condition of the dipstick, he thought the engine had been run in the last week or ten days.

Matt wondered how he could tell that, but was damned if he would reveal his ignorance by asking.

Jack Matthews moved quickly and efficiently around the cabin, and seemed to know exactly what he was looking for. Matt felt ignorant.

There were no trip wires or booby traps, but there was evidence of recent occupancy.

"There is something about this place that bothers me," Larkin said thoughtfully. "It's too damned neat and clean for a cabin in the boondocks."

"Yeah," Young agreed thoughtfully.

"I think we have to find out who owns this, who comes here."

"County courthouse?" Young said.

"Unless one of the deputies knows offhand," Larkin said.

"Are you going back to Philadelphia?" Young asked.

"I don't see what else I can do here," Larkin said.

"Why don't I send Jack to the county courthouse with my car?" Young asked. "And catch a ride back with you?"

"Great," Larkin said. He turned to Meador of ATF. "Meador, look into your crystal ball and tell me what he used for detonators."

"The explosive looks like C-4," Meador said. "Somebody with access to C-4 would probably have access to military detonators. I'll know for sure when I'm finished in the laboratory."

"Depressing thought," Larkin said.

"Sir?"

"Somebody with access to C-4 and military detonators who blew up those lockers the way he did knows how to use that stuff, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah," Meador said.

"Well, at least it gives us a lead or two," Larkin said. "Which is a lead or two more than we had when I woke up this morning."

He put his hand out to H. Howard Samm.

"Your team really did a fine job, Samm. I think my boss would like to write a letter of commendation."

"Why," Samm said. "That would be very nice, but unnecessary."

"Nonsense. A commendation is in order," Larkin said, and then touched Matt's shoulder. "Let's go home, Matthew."

A moment after they turned off the dirt road onto the highway, Larkin said, "You noticed, Frank, how Mr. Samm was so anxious to make sure that his guy who found that place got the credit?"

"I noticed. His name wasn't mentioned."

"His names is Glynes," Larkin said. "C.V. Glynes."

"And he gets the commendation?"

"They both do. And Meador too. But on his, Samm gets his name misspelled," Larkin said.

Young laughed, and Larkin joined in.

"I don't know why we're laughing," Young said. "Now weknow we have a lunatic on our hands who knows what he's doing with high explosives, and presumably has more in his kitchen closet."

TWENTY-FIVE

Inspector Peter F. Wohl, of the Philadelphia Police Department, who had, ten minutes before, been Staff Inspector Wohl, came out of Commissioner Czernick's office in the company of Chief Inspector (retired) and Mrs. Augustus Wohl.

They are happy about this, Peter Wohl thought, but they are in the minority. Czernick, despite the warm smile and the hearty handshake, didn't like it at all. And a lot of other people aren't going to like it either, when they hear about it.

Part of this, he felt, was because before he had become a staff inspector, he had been the youngest captain in the Department. And there was the matter of the anomaly in the rank structure of the Philadelphia Police Department: Captains are immediately subordinate to staff inspectors, who are immediately subordinate to Inspectors. The insignia of the ranks parallels that of the Army and Marine Corps. Captains wear two gold bars, "railroad tracks"; staff inspectors wear gold oak leaves, corresponding to military majors; and inspectors wear, like military lieutenant colonels, silver oak leaves.

There were only sixteen staff inspectors in the Department, all of them (with the sole exception of Wohl, Peter F.) assigned to the Staff Inspection Office of the Internal Affairs Division. There they handled "sensitive" investigations, which translated to mean they were a group of really first-rate investigators who went after criminals who were also high governmental officials, elected, appointed, or civil service.