“It’s not a joke.” His frown was formidable: forceful officer with a lot of military power to back him up.

“I don’t think it is, Colonel, but I’d love to know if it’s true. What does Dr. Kiel have to do with it, for instance? I thought he was a cell biologist, not a physicist.”

“Love to know if it’s true? I’m talking to you in confidence about matters of national security.”

I studied my fingers. All this outdoor work was wreaking havoc with my nails. I’d noticed a half-dozen beauty spas downtown—maybe I should take a couple of hours off for a manicure in the morning.

“Are you listening to me?” His tone was somewhere between angry and petulant.

“Colonel, I’m a stranger in a strange land. I’m alone, except for my dog. You have a sheriff, a major scientist, an intelligence officer from some fancy army college, and the whole First Infantry if you need them. I’m listening to you, but that doesn’t mean you’re telling the truth. Back to Dr. Kiel, the non-physicist.”

He eyed me narrowly but decided not to push back. “We talked to Kiel because he had a lot of involvement at the site during a big protest back in ’83.”

“Yes, I know about that. Not his involvement, but the protest. His daughter was there.”

“We hoped he could give us a list of names of people to talk to who might have carried a grudge against the military all this time. He’s a fierce guy, reminds me of one of my own colonels when I was at the Point, didn’t have any use for sloppy thinkers or people who were late to anything. Parade, class, handing in assignments, even mess.”

I turned it over in my mind. It could be true, but how could I possibly find out?

“I’m telling you this because you’re talking to a lot of people, and some of them are people I wouldn’t think of talking to, like that African-American lady you met yesterday, the one who went to the hospital.”

I smiled sourly. “You have been doing a thorough job on me. When I get my Geiger counter, I’ll be able to tell you if the rods are in her home.”

He ignored the levity—and the sourness. “We can’t help thinking the McKinnon woman’s murder is tied to the rods. She was upset that the air force sold the land to Sea-2-Sea instead of back to her. She talked to her lawyer about it, but it was legal. Maybe not moral, but legal. And then Emerald Ferring, who took an active part in that ’83 protest, she showed up, along with the youth. McKinnon wouldn’t be strong enough to heft that cylinder, but the kid—young man—could have done it.”