Strangers

York.
        Worse still, of the eight members of the full-time investigatory team, three had been in New York in December, including Dr. Miles Bennell himself. In short, the list of suspects currently numbered at least thirty-three among the scientific research staff alone.
        Leland was also suspicious of the entire Depository security staff, though Major Fugata and Lieutenant Helms, the head of security and his right-hand man, were supposedly the only security personnel who knew what was happening in the forbidden cavern. On Sunday, soon after Fugata began questioning the full-time research staff and those part-time researchers currently in residence, he discovered that the polygraph was damaged and could not produce reliable results. Yesterday, when a new machine was sent up from Shenkfield, it also proved defective. Fugata said that the second machine was already damaged when it arrived from Shenkfield, but that was bullshit.
        Someone involved in the project had seen reports that the witnesses' memory blocks were breaking down. Deciding to exploit that opportunity, he egged some of them along with cryptic notes and Polaroids stolen from the files. The bastard had nearly gotten away with it, and now that the heat was coming down on him, he had sabotaged the lie detectors.
        Pausing in his perusal of the personnel files, Leland looked at Miles Bennell, who was standing in the small window. "Doctor, give me the benefit of your insight into the scientific mind."
        Turning away from the window, Bennell said, "Certainly, Colonel."
        "Everyone working with you knows about the classified CISG report that was done seven years ago. They know the terrible consequences that might result if we went public with our discoveries. So why would any of them be so irresponsible as to undermine project security?"
        Dr. Bennell assumed a tone of earnest helpfulness, but Leland heard the acid-sharp disdain beneath the surface: "Some disagree with CISG's conclusions. Some think going public with these discoveries wouldn't result in a catastrophe, that the CISG was fundamentally wrong, too elitist in its viewpoint."
        "Well, I believe the CISG was correct. And you, Lieutenant Horner?"
        Horner was sitting near the door. "I agree with you, Colonel. If the news is broken to the public, they'll have to be prepared slowly, over maybe ten years. And even then…"
        Leland nodded. To Bennell, he said, "I have a low but realistic opinion of my fellow men, Doctor, and I know how poorly most would cope with the new world that would follow the release of these discoveries. Chaos. Political and social upheaval. Just like the CISG report said."
        Bennell shrugged. "You're entitled to your view." But his tone said: Even if your view is ignorant and arrogant and narrow-minded.
        Leaning forward in his chair, Leland said, "How about you, Doctor? Do you believe the CISG was right?"
        Evasively, Bennell said, "I'm not your man, Colonel. I didn't send those notes and Polaroids to Corvaisis and the Blocks."
        "Okay, Doctor, then will you support my effort to have everyone in the project interrogated with the assistance of drugs? Even if we get the polygraph fixed, the answers we obtain will be less reliable than those we'd get with sodium pentothal and certain other substances."
        Bennell frowned. "Well, there are some who'd object strenuously. These are people of superior intellect, Colonel. Intellectual life is their primary life, and they won't risk subjecting themselves to drugs that might, as a side-effect, have even the slightest permanent detrimental effect on their mental function."
        "These drugs don't have that effect. They're safe."
        "They're safe most of the time, maybe. But some of my people will have moral objections to using drugs for any reason - even safe drugs, even for a worthwhile purpose."
        "Doctor, I'm going to push for drug-assisted interrogation of everyone in Thunder Hill, those who know the secret and those who don't. I'm going to demand General Alvarado approve." Alvarado was commanding officer of the Thunder Hill Depository, a pencil-pushing desk-jockey who had spent his career on his backside. Leland liked Alvarado no more than he liked Bennell. "If the general approves drug-assisted interrogation, and if any of your people then refuse, I'll come down hard on them, hard enough to break them. That includes