"That's something we have to find out. Obviously, they employ some method of camouflage as they go about their work.
"Secondly, they've been busy among us for some time; missing-persons figures were unusually high as far back as World War One. The data for earlier conflicts are unreliable, but such as they are, they don't rule out the possibility."
"But why?"
"Apparently, these creatures have a use for human brain tissue. From the description you gave me, I surmise that the organ was in a nutrient solution of some sort-alive."
"My God."
"Yes. Now, we're faced with not one, but two varieties of adversary. It's plain that our former associate, General Julius, was something other than human."
"He looked as human as I do-maybe more so."
"Perhaps he is; modified, of course, to serve alien purposes. Some such arrangement would be necessary in order to carry on the day-to-day business…"
"What business-other than brain-stealing?"
"Consider for a moment: we know they've infiltrated the UN, and my hunch is we may find them in a lot of other places as well. From the speed with which they worked, it's obvious that they have a large, well-integrated operation-and methods of communication far more subtle than the clumsy apparatus we employ."
"There are five million people here, Felix; fifty governments are represented. I've only seen a couple of these supermen."
"True. But they say for every rat you see in the barnyard, there are a hundred more hiding somewhere." He looked almost pleased. "We're on our own, John. We can't shout for a policeman."
"What can we do? We're holed up under a hundred feet of shielded concrete, with plenty of food, liquor and taped tri-D shows-but we might as well be locked in a cell."
Felix held up a hand. "We're not without resources, John. This hideaway was designed to provide the most complete and modern facilities for certain lines of research and testing. We know a few things about our aliens now-things they don't know we know. And I'm sure they're puzzling over your dramatic appearances and disappearances, much as we're pondering their capabilities. They're not super-beings. My little stinger killed one; you eluded others. Now that we know something of the nature of the enemy, we can begin to design counter-measures."
"Just the two of us?"
"I didn't mean to imply that the enemy controls everything, John. It wouldn't be necessary; one or two cowboys can control quite a large herd of cattle…"
"Why herd us at all? Why not just round us up, chop out our brains, and let it go at that?"
"Oh, many reasons. Conservation of natural resources, ease of harvesting-and then, perhaps, we might not be quite safe, if we were once alerted to what was going on. Cattle have been known to stampede…"
"So-what do we do?"
"We leave Tamboula. Back in America, we make contact with a few individuals known to us personally. I'd steer clear of Barnett, for example, but there are a number of reliable men. Then we construct a counter-alien organization, armed and equipped-and then-well, we'll see."
"And how do we go about leaving Tamboula? I have an idea the whole scheme breaks down right there."
Felix looked sober. "I'm afraid our old friend Bravais will never be seen departing from these shores."
A small grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I think he'll have to disappear in much the same manner that Major de Salle of the UN medical staff dropped from sight-and as one H. D. Brown, who leased the same house, will vanish one day soon."
"Behind a false beard and a set of brown contact lenses?"
"Nothing so crude, my dear fellow." Felix was positively rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "I'm going to give you the full treatment-use some of those ideas they haven't been willing to give me guinea pigs for, up till now. You'll have a new hair color-self-regenerating, too-new eye color and retinal patterns, an inch or two difference in height, new finger- and dental-prints…"
"None of that will do me much good if some curious customs man digs under the dirty socks and finds that piece of ear. That's all the evidence we've got."
"Never fear, John. You won't be unprotected." There was a merry glint in his eye. "You won't merely have a new identity-I'm going to fit you out with full PAPA gear. If a General Julius jumps out at you then, just break him in two and keep going."
Chapter Six
I was sitting on the edge of a wooden chair, listening to a thin humming in my head.
"Tell me when the sound stops," Felix said. His voice seemed to be coming from a distance, even though I could see him standing a few feet away, looking hazy, like a photograph shot through cheesecloth. The buzzing grew fainter, faded…
I pressed the switch in my hand. Felix's blurred features nodded.
"Good enough, John. Now come around and let's check those ligament attachments."
I relaxed the muscles that had once been used to prick up the ears, thus switching my hearing range back to normal. I made a move to rise, and bounded three feet in the air.
"Easy, John." Felix had emerged from the cubicle with the two-inch-thick armorplast walls. "We can't have you springing about the room like a dervish. Remember your lessons."
I balanced carefully, like a man with springs tied to his shoes. "I remember my lessons," I said. "Pain has a way of sticking in my mind."
"It's the best method when you're in a hurry."
"How did the test go?"
"Not badly at all. You held it to.07 microbel at 30,000 cycles. How was the vision?"
"About like shaving with a steamed mirror. I still get only blacks and whites."
"You'll develop color discrimination after a while. Your optic center has been accustomed to just the usual six hues for thirty-odd years; it can't learn to differentiate in the ultraviolet range overnight."
"And I can't adjust to the feeling that I weigh half an ounce, either, dammit! I dance around on my toes like a barefooted hairdresser on a hot pavement."
Felix grinned as though I'd paid him a compliment. "In point of fact, you now weigh three hundred and twenty-eight pounds. I've plated another five mills of chromalloy onto the skeletal grid. Your system's shown a nice tolerance for it. I'm pulling one more net of the number nine web over the trapezius, deltoids, and latissimi dorsi-"
"The tolerances of my metabolism are not to be taken as those of the management," I cut in. "These past six weeks have been a vivisectionist's nightmare. I've got more scars than a Shendy tribesman, and my nerves are standing on end, waving around like charmed snakes. I'm ready to call it a day, and try it as is."
Felix nodded soberly. "We're about finished with you. I know it's been difficult, but there's no point in taking anything less than our best to the fray, is there?"
"I don't know why I don't ache all over," I grumbled. "I've been sliced, chiseled, and sawed at like a side of beef in a butcher's college. I suppose you've got me doped to the eyebrows; along with all the other strange sensations, a little thing like a neocaine jag would pass unnoticed."
"No-no dope; hypnotics, old boy."
"Swell. Every day in every way I'm hurting less and less, eh?"
I took a breath, more from habit than need; the oxygen storage units installed under the lower edge of my rib-cage were more than half charged; I could go for another two hours if I had to. "I know we're in a hell of a spot-and it's better to sail in with grins in place and all flags flying than sit around telling each other the crisis has arrived. But I'm ready for action."
Felix was looking at papers, paying no attention at all.
"Surely, old man. Gripe all you like," he said absently. "Just don't get friendly and slap me on the back. I'm still made of normal flesh and blood. Now, I'd like another check on the strain gauges."
I closed my mouth and went across to the Iron Man-a collection of cables and bars that looked like an explosion in a bicycle factory.
"The grip, first."