Destroyer 104: Angry White Mailmen

By Warren Murphy and Richard Sapir

Chapter 1

He had a face, but no one could describe it afterward.

He had eyes in his face, but everyone remembered their color differently. His complexion had texture, but no one noticed it. Some remembered his hair as red, others as yellow and still others said it was brown.

What they did remember was his uniform. Everyone noticed the uniform. No one paid any attention to the man inside.

It was not that he blended in with the early-lunchtime crowd returning to the new Wiley Post Federal Building in Oklahoma City. A few people actually flinched involuntarily as he approached the stone steps. It was the uniform that made them flinch. Yet his face was benign, his carriage unthreatening.

But no one was looking at his face as he mounted the steps.

Later a few survivors thought it was strange that he wore earphones. They remembered it as strange because they thought there must be some regulation against listening to a Walkman while making one's appointed rounds.

The security guard at the metal detector looked up, saw the blue-gray uniform and not the man and, recognizing the uniform, waved the unfamiliar face around the metal-detector line, which was backed up to the stairs.

"You're late today," the guard called after him.

The uniformed man nodded curtly and passed through the primary line of defense unchallenged. No one questioned the uniform. It could be seen on virtually every street in the nation and while it was feared by some, it was respected by most Americans.

Stationed before the elevator, where he could scrutinize all unfamiliar faces, a lobby guard made eye contact and asked, "New guy?"

"Started today," the uniformed man said curtly.

The elevator arrived, its massive doors sliding apart.

"Well, take it easy," the lobby guard said.