It was just noon . "I'm sorry, but there's no dial on this phone. Can you call the airline and ask them to get him to a phone? It could be important." She was glad she'd said "could be." Her control was coming back. "Yes. If we locate him I'll ring you in the lab." The telephone rang again in a few minutes and Elizabeth said, "Waring." "I have Mr. Carlson on the line," said the receptionist. "Mr. Carlson?" "Yes, Miss Waring," he said. Behind his voice there was a huge hollow where random noises echoed. He spoke tonelessly and loudly as though he had his free hand pressed to his ear. "I have a number of questions that you seem to be the only one who can answer, and I—" "Miss Waring, I'm sorry, but I have a flight to Washington that's already boarding, and I'm about to miss it as it is. Can I call you back when I get home this evening?" "I'm afraid that won't do. You see, I have something you'd have to look at to be able to explain. If you could take a later flight, I'd—" "I've already been interviewed and grilled and investigated for over twenty-four hours, and—oh.
