Bill McCrory looked up nervously from the phone. “I’m sorry, J.J., but the time locks have been activated. It’s going to take a half an hour at least to arrange a visit. We could put it off until tomorrow.”
“Not possible.” He punched up the next day’s appointments on his watch. “My schedule is full, including lunch in the office, and I have a flight out at four. It’s now or never. Get Toth. Tell him to arrange it.”
“He may be gone by now.”
“Not him. First in and last out.”
Arpad Toth was head of security. More than that, he had supervised the implementation of all the security measures; these seemed to be his only interest in life. While McCrory made the call J.J. decided that the time had come. He opened the drinks cabinet and poured out three fingers of the malt whisky. He added the same amount of uncarbonated Malvern water — no ice of course! — sipped and sighed gratefully.
“Help yourself, Bill. Toth was in, wasn’t he?”
“I will, thank you, just some Ballygowan water. Not only was he in but he will be supervising the visit personally.”
“He has to do that. In fact, both he and I together have to encode an after-hours entry. And if either of us punches in a wrong number, accidentally or deliberately, all hell breaks loose.”
“I never realized that security was so tight.”
“That’s good. You’re not supposed to. Everyone who enters those labs is monitored ten ways from Sunday. Exactly at five o’clock the doors are sealed tighter than the bank vaults in Fort Knox. After that time it’s still easy to get out, since scientists are prone to work late, or even all night. You must have done that yourself. Now you are going to find out that it is next to impossible to get back in. You’ll see what I mean when Toth gets here.”