Men close to him sprang up and tried to grab his arm, but he swung the gun around like a flyswatter, smashing one of them in the face. I had my own out, ready to back his play, but it was not necessary. They could see that he was as dangerous as an old bull and they backed away.
It hung in balance, then they started shucking clothes like Doukhobors. One man bolted for a door; he was tripped. No, he was not wearing a parasite.
But we did catch three. After that, the show went on the channels, ten minutes late, and Congress started the first of its "bare back" sessions.
Chapter 14
"LOCK YOUR DOORS!"
"CLOSE THE DAMPERS ON YOUR FIREPLACES!"
"NEVER ENTER A DARK PLACE!"
"BE WARY OF CROWDS!"
"A MAN WEARING A COAT IS AN ENEMY-SHOOT!"
We should have had every titan in the country spotted and killed in a week. I don't know what more we could have done. In addition to a steady barrage of propaganda the country was being quartered and sectioned from the air, searching for flying saucers on the ground. Our radar screen was on full alert for unidentified blips. Military units, from airborne troops to guided-rocket stations, were ready to smear any that landed.
Then nothing happened. There was no work for them to do. The thing fizzled like a damp firecracker.
In the uncontaminated areas people took off their shirts, willingly or reluctantly, looked around them and found no parasites. They watched their newscasts and wondered and waited for the government to tell them that the danger was over. But nothing happened and both laymen and local officials began to doubt the necessity of running around the streets in sunbathing costumes. We had shouted "Wolf!" and no wolf came.
The contaminated areas? The reports from the contaminated areas were not materially different from the reports from other areas.
Our stereocast and the follow-ups did not reach those areas. Back in the days of radio it could not have happened; the Washington station where the 'cast originated could have blanketed the country. But stereo-video rides wavelengths so short that horizon-to-horizon relay is necessary and local channels must be squirted out of local stations; it's the price we pay for plenty of channels and high resolution pictures.
In the infected areas the slugs controlled the local stations; the people never heard the warning.
But in Washington we had every reason to believe that they had heard the warning. Reports came back from-well, Iowa, for example, just like those from California. The governor of Iowa was one of the first to send a message to the President, promising full cooperation. The Iowa state police were already cruising the roads, he reported, stopping everybody and requiring them to strip to the waist. Air travel above Iowa was stopped for the duration of the emergency, just as the President had urged.
There was even a relayed stereo of the governor addressing his constituents, bare to the waist. He faced the camera and I wanted to tell him to turn around. But presently they cut to another camera and we had a close up of a bare back, while the governor's voice went cheerfully on, urging all citizens to work with the police.
If any place in the Union was a pest house of slugs, Iowa should have been it. Had they evacuated Iowa and concentrated on heavier centers of population?
We were gathered in a conference room off the President's office. The President had kept the Old Man with him, I tagged along, and Mary was still on watch. Secretary of Security Martinez was there as well as the Supreme Chief of Staff, Air Marshal Rexton. There were others from the President's "fishing cabinet", but they weren't important.
The President watched the 'cast from Iowa and turned to the Old Man. "Well, Andrew? I thought Iowa was a place we would have to fence off."
The Old Man grunted.
Marshal Rexton said, "As I figure it-mind you, I have not had much time to evaluate this situation-they have gone underground. We may have to comb every inch of every suspicious area."
The Old Man grunted again. "Combing Iowa, corn shock by corn shock, does not appeal to me."
"How else would you tackle it, sir?"
"Figure your enemy! He can't go underground. He can't live without a host."
"Very well-assuming that is true, how many parasites would you say are in Iowa?"
"Damn it, how should I know? They didn't take me into their confidence."
"Suppose we make a top estimate. If-"
The Old Man interrupted him. "You've got no basis for an estimate. Can't you folks see that the titans have won another round?"
"Eh?"
"You just heard the governor; they let us look at his back-or somebody's back. Did you notice that he didn't turn around in front of the camera?"
"But he did," someone said. "I saw him."
"I certainly had the impression that I saw him turn," said the President slowly. "You are suggesting that Governor Packer is himself possessed?"
"Correct. You saw what you were meant to see. There was a camera cut just before he was fully turned; people hardly ever notice them; they are used to them. Depend on it. Mister President, every message out of Iowa is faked."
The President looked thoughtful. Secretary Martinez shook his head emphatically and said, "Impossible. Granted that the governor's message could have been faked-a clever character actor could have faked it. Remember the inaugural address in the crisis of '96, when the President Elect was laid up with pneumonia? Granted that one such 'cast could be faked, we've had our choice of dozens of 'casts from Iowa. How about that street scene in Des Moines? Don't tell me you can fake hundreds of people dashing around stripped to their waists-or do your parasites practice mass hypnotic control?"
"They can't that I know of," conceded the Old Man. "If they can, we might as well throw in the towel and admit that the human race has been superseded. But what made you think that that 'cast came from Iowa?"
"Eh? Why, damn it, sir, it came over the Iowa channel."
"Proving what? Did you read any street signs? It looked like any typical street in a downtown retail district. Never mind what city the announcer told you it was; what city was it?"
The Secretary let his mouth hang open. I've got fairly close to the "camera eye" that detectives are supposed to have; I let that picture run through my mind-and I not only could not tell what city, I could not even place the part of the country. It could have been Memphis, Seattle, or Boston-or none of them. Allowing for special cases like Canal Street in New Orleans, or Denver's Civic Center, the downtown districts in American cities are as standardized as barber shops.
"Never mind," the Old Man went on. "I couldn't tell and I was looking for landmarks. The explanation is simple; the Des Moines station picked up a Schedule Bare Back street scene from some city not contaminated and rechanneled it under their own commentary. They chopped out anything that would localize it . . . and we swallowed it. Gentlemen, this enemy knows us, inside and out. This campaign has been planned in great detail and they are ready to outwit us in almost any move we can make."
"Aren't you being an alarmist, Andrew?" said the President. "There is another possibility, that the titans have moved somewhere else."
"They are still in Iowa," the Old Man said flatly, "but you won't prove it with that thing." He gestured at the stereo tank.
Secretary Martinez squirmed. "This is ridiculous!" he exclaimed. "You are saying that we can't get a correct report out of Iowa, as if it were occupied territory."