Natalya laughed like a faraway silver bell. She blushed, too.
And because she blushed, Pavel knew she was GRU, and it saddened him so much that he ate only five tacos that night instead of his usual six. But reality was reality, and no 22-year-old Russian woman who worked for Aeroflot would be so innocent as to blush. It was as impossible as a coffee-shop waitress refusing a millionaire's offer of marriage.
At his apartment, Pavel offered Natalya a vodka and a Turkish cigarette, both of which she accepted. He joined her in the vodka, but didn't smoke because he had given her a marijuana cigarette, which she did not realize until she was sufficiently high for him to record her on sound film for his superiors. The vodka ensured that.
When Natalya Tushenka was giggling like a schoolgirl and babbling that she didn't really work for Aeroflot, but couldn't say which secret agency she really worked for because it was a secret, silly, Pavel shut off the concealed camera and escorted her down to a taxi and gave the driver instructions to drop her off at the Russian consulate, where her indiscretion would be witnessed by others. The sound film would ensure that she would be dropped from the GRU and returned to Russia in disgrace. Drugs were a serious offense in Russia and unforgivable for an agent.
Because he was unhappy, Pavel Zarnitsa went for a walk, and his feet led him back to the Whacko Taco, where he had that sixth taco he had been unable to eat earlier. After that, he felt better. It was too bad about the girl. But KGB was KGB and GRU was GRU. Besides, she had shown absolutely no appreciation of tacos. She would be happier married and with children, Pavel told himself. And fatter. Definitely fatter. That part made him feel sad all over again.
Before going to bed, Pavel read a late edition, and what he read in that newspaper chased his drowsiness away. There was an item in which the U.S. Air Force officially denied that there had been an accident with a Titan missile in Oklahoma. At the same time the official spokesman denied this, he also denied that another incident had taken place in Arkansas only a few days before. The item was full of words like "alleged" and "unconfirmed" and "sources who wish to remain nameless," and Pavel would not have paid it any attention, but the report was on a back page, in a box and was only three paragraphs long. Therefore he knew it was important. All important news in Russia was printed that way.
Pavel decided that something significant was happening within America's Strategic Air Command and, whatever it was, he had to find out the truth.
Especially if the Unitted States was going to blow itself up before Pavel Zarnitsa discovered the secret of perfect tacos.
?Chapter Eight
Only two days ago, Ethel Sump had been simply the receptionist for FOES, a group she joined not so much because of her interest in Unidentified Flying Objects, but because belonging to any group made it easier to meet attractive men. At 24, slightly on the plump side, and still unmarried, she knew that time was running out. It was interesting work, even if it didn't pay money, and she got to meet more people than she had at the drive-in pizza place, even if she did miss the $3.70 an hour she was paid at the pizzeria.
Not many dates, though. But Ethel Sump got used to that as her interest in flying saucers grew. After extensive research in UFO magazines and national tabloids, she had arrived at the theory that flying saucers were really from another dimension, which coexisted alongside ours, but which was invisible and intangible until you crossed over into it, and that ghosts, in which she also fervently believed, were really inhabitants of that other dimension and that they became visible only under certain conditions. What those conditions were, Ethel didn't exactly know, but she was sure it had something to do with sunspots.
She was delighted to discover that her theory was correct and to hear it confirmed from the lips— assuming he had lips— of that wonderful teacher, the World Master, who had changed her from an ordinary dateless receptionist to an important member of Preparation Group Two, which would carry on the work of Preparation Group One.
"What happened to Preparation Group One?" Ethel had asked when it came her turn to enter the UFO alone. When the group had been called back after the strange incident in the woods, Amanda Bull had invited all FOES members to speak privately with the World Master, who explained in exquisite detail his plans for the planet Earth.
"Preparation Group One has done its work and been rewarded— as you will be," the World Master had said in that funny, high-pitched voice. It was too bad he had to stay hidden behind the glass, but Ethel understood he had to breathe his own air.
Ethel smiled and nodded. She liked rewards. She often gave herself rewards of root beer and Cheeze-its, which were the main contributors to her ungirlish plumpness.
"When the new age dawns, Ethel Sump, you will have a prominent place in it."
"Will I be able to get a date, too?"
"Men will grovel at your feet in the new order."
"I thought you said earlier that we would all be equal then."
"Yes. All men shall grovel at your feet equally. Would you like that, Ethel Sump?"
"Yes, sir. I would."
"Excellent. You understand that my plans necessitate the neutralization of all dangerous weapons on Earth, beginning with nuclear weapons."
"I do," said Ethel Sump, who envisioned herself soon saying "I do" under entirely different circumstances.
"Good," said the figure behind the glass panel. His oversized head reminded Ethel of a tulip bulb moving in a breeze. "And you are prepared to work toward this important goal and obey without question the orders of Group Leader Bull?"
"Sure. But before we do that, can you answer a teeny little question for me?"
"Ask."
"I always thought your people came from another dimension."
"We do."
"But earlier you said you came from— from Betelgeuse."
"Yes, that is true, too," the reedy voice assured her.
"I don't get it. How can they both be true?"
"While my planet does circle that star, in order to traverse the great distances between my world and yours, our ships travel through the Fourth Dimension."
"Oh, I understand now," Ethel Sump beamed.
* * *
And when she compared notes with the others and discovered that the World Master had told Marsha Gasse that, yes, his people did come from a subterranean city under the North Pole, and then had informed Martin Cannell that it was true that his people had visited Earth in prehistoric times and created the human race from primeval slime, everyone became puzzled, arid they took the matter to Amanda Bull, who was busily organizing the group for the ride back to Oklahoma City.
"Hmmmm," said Amanda, who rubbed the hair on the bridge of her nose in thought. The spaceship was still in the woods, and she briefly considered returning to it to ask the World Master to explain, when she saw the craft rise slowly above the trees and, wobbling, move west. She wondered if the World Master hovered in the atmosphere or had a secret base somewhere.
"The World Master wouldn't lie," Amanda said slowly, which caused the heads of all assembled to nod in agreement. "So they must all be true."
"Why, that makes perfect sense," Martin Cannell said. And that seemed to settle the matter, for they all piled into the van, eager for their first training session.
Ethel Sump enjoyed training, even training with the rifle Amanda gave her, which at first had frightened her. It gave her a sense of purpose and worth. She enjoyed life more in the past two days than in all the years gone before. She even ate less.
Two days of training didn't seem very much, but Amanda had told them all this morning that tonight they would make their first move. The World Master had contacted her somehow and told her so. Amanda had seemed a little worried about that, but as Ethel had reminded her, "The World Master wouldn't let us go out on this important mission unless he knew we were ready," and Amanda said she had to agree.