The MP was finding this a revelation. Maybe it shouldn't be the cops when he got out. Maybe he should go into science. Professor Tremelo was questioning Private Cline in a fashion that police practice would not have allowed. The guy wasn't even a suspect. He was just a witness.
So far, in the process of extracting the tiniest details, Tremelo had stopped short of thumbscrews. Just short. And the professor and his team seemed to find nothing wrong with grilling people mercilessly.
Science was a lot weirder than the MP had realized, when his patrol had encountered the two soldiers who stumbled out of the Oriental Institute. The only ones who had escaped what, so far, was the alien pyramid's biggest disappearing act. Or snatch, as the troops were starting to call it.
These science guys were kind of . . . fanatically relentless. There was a sort of overwhelming assumption of what-we're-doing-is-right about them. These guys would walk into a no-go area and you'd assume they had a perfect right to be there just because they behaved as if they had.
The professor shook his head. "That's by far the biggest group yet—and we still have no idea why. Other than, once again, that they were all in physical contact with each other. That seems to be the pattern when more than one person is taken."
The tall physicist's dark eyes became a little unfocused. "And the fact that—so far—only two of them have come back dead. That's really atypical."
He turned to the MP. "Corporal, I want someone from the Oriental Institute. I need to know just who these two men you ran into were, besides a 'maintenance man' and someone who worked on 'comparative mythology.' And find out if there are any results from the comparison of the bite marks on Private Dietz and the earlier victim."
It was a bit odd being told what to do by a man whose turned-up pajama jacket collar stuck out of a lab coat, and who smelled faintly of fish. But somehow, just by the way the man calmly gave the orders, the MP obeyed unquestioningly. It must be part of the science thing. The MP resolved to look into this High Energy Physics stuff.
Miggy Tremelo was unaware of the sort of third-degree-interrogation image his team was building with the watching soldier. Not for a moment did it occur to him that the witness could possibly object to being cross-examined by five intent scientists.
So: they'd continuously questioned the man for more than an hour. So: every statement was ruthlessly shredded, and assumed to be false until corroborated. The grilling was similar, if milder, to that which a graduate student would have faced for their oral dissertation. And Tremelo wouldn't have minded if he'd been the witness. In fact, if anything, he was intensely jealous that he hadn't seen it. But it was true that he believed with a frightening intensity in the rightness of research.
Tremelo sat back. "Right. I think we want to try and establish physical and psychological profiles for these victims, as well as examining their background. We need a team on this. Eddie, you head it up. Phil, how's the gamma ray group getting on?"
One of the others shook his head and grimaced. "Simmons is squalling for more equipment."
"Well, get it for him, then!" Tremelo's eyes grew unfocused again. "But I get the feeling that that avenue of research is going to lead nowhere. There's something about the way this damned thing selects its victims . . . "
He started pacing back and forth slowly, his hands shoved into the lab coat's pockets. "It seems haphazard, but I'm willing to bet it isn't. There's something—something—"
He stopped his pacing. "Especially something about the people in this latest group! Six of them still haven't come back. Why?"
He came to a decision and turned to one of his assistants. "First thing you do, Eddie, is track down the close relatives and friends of those six people. I want to talk to them, as soon as possible."