"Could be. In fact I think they are."
"Well, what do we do?"
"Honey chile, you are about to learn that in the Country of the Blind the one-eyed man is in for a hell of a rough ride."
"Don't be cynical. There isn't time."
"No. There isn't. Gather up your gear and let's get out of here."
Dawn was on us as we left and the big library was almost deserted. I said, "Tell you what-let's find a barrel of beer, take it to my hotel room, bust in the head, and talk this thing over."
She shook her head. "Not to your hotel room."
"Damn it, this is business."
"Let's go to my apartment. It's only a couple of hundred miles away; I'll fix you breakfast when we get there."
I recalled my basic purpose in life in time to remember to leer. "That's the best offer I've had all night. But seriously-why not the hotel? We'd get breakfast there and save a half hour's travel."
"You don't want to come to my apartment? I won't bite you."
"I was hoping you would-so I could bite back. No, I was just wondering why the sudden switch?"
"Well-perhaps I wanted to show you the bear traps I have arranged tastefully around my bed. Or perhaps I just wanted to prove to you I could cook." She dimpled for a moment.
I flagged a taxi and we went to her apartment.
When we got inside she left me standing, while she made a careful search of the place, then she came back and said, "Turn around. I want to feel your back."
"Why do-"
"Turn around!"
I shut up and did so. She gave it a good knuckling, all over, then said, "Now you can feel mine."
"With pleasure!" Nevertheless I did a proper job, for I saw what she was driving at. There was nothing under her clothes but girl-girl and assorted items of lethal hardware.
She turned around and let a deep sigh. "That's why I didn't want to go to your hotel room. Now we're safe. Now I know we are safe for the first time since I saw that thing on the station manager's back. This apartment is tight; I turn off the air and leave it sealed like a vault every time I leave it."
"Say-how about the air conditioning? Could one get in through the ducts?"
"Possibly-but I didn't turn on the conditioner system; I cracked one of the air-raid reserve bottles instead. Never mind; what would you like to eat?"
I wanted to suggest Mary herself, served up on lettuce and toast, but I thought better of it. "Any chance of about two pounds of steak, just warmed through?"
We split a five-pound steak between us and I swear I ate the short half. While we chomped, we watched the newscast. Still no news from Iowa.
Chapter 5
I did not get to see the bear traps; she locked her bedroom door. I know; I tried it. Three hours later she woke me and we had a second breakfast. Presently we struck cigarettes and I reached over and switched off the newscast. It was devoted principally to a display of the states' entries for "Miss America." Ordinarily I would have watched with interest but since none of the babes was round-shouldered and their contest costumes could not possibly have concealed humps bigger than mosquito bites, it seemed to lack importance that day.
I said, "Well?"
Mary said, "We've got to arrange the facts we have dug up and rub the President's nose in them. Action has to be on a national scale-global, really."
"How?"
"We've got to see him again."
I repeated, "How?"
She had no answer for that one.
I said, "We've got only one route-via official channels. Through the Old Man."
I put in the call, using both our codes so that Mary could hear, too. Presently I heard, "Chief Deputy Oldfield, speaking for the Old Man. He's not available. Shoot."
"It's got to be the Old Man."
There was a pause, then, "I don't have either one of you down as on assignment. Is this official or unofficial?"
"Uh, I guess you'd call it unofficial."
"Well, I won't put you through to the Old Man for anything unofficial. And anything official I am handling. Make up your mind."
I thanked him and switched off before I used any bad language. Then I coded again. The Old Man has a special code, in addition to regular channels, which is guaranteed to cause him to rise up out of his coffin-but God help the agent who uses it unnecessarily. I hadn't used it in five years.
He answered with a burst of profanity.
"Boss," I said, "on the Iowa matter-"
He broke off short. "Yes?"
"Mary and I spent all night digging former data out of the files. We want to talk it over with you."
The profanity resumed. Presently he told me to brief it and turn it in for analysis and added that he intended to have my ears fried for a sandwich.
"Boss!" I said sharply.
"Eh?"
"If you can run out on the job, so can we. Both Mary and I are resigning from the Section right now-and that's official!"
Mary's eyebrows went up but she said nothing. There was a silence so long that I thought he had cut me off, then he said, in a tired, whipped voice, "Palmglade Hotel, North Miami Beach. I'll be the third sunburn from the end."
"Right away." I sent for a taxi and we went up on the roof. I had the hackie swing out over the ocean to avoid the Carolina speed trap; we made good time.
The Old Man was sunburned all right. He lay there, looking sullen and letting sand dribble through his fingers, while we reported. I had brought along a little buzz box so that he could get it directly off the wire.
He looked up sharply when we came to the point about thirty-year cycles, but he allowed it to ride until he came to my later query about possible similar cycles in disappearances, whereupon he stopped me and called the Section. "Get me Analysis. Hello, Peter? This is the boss. I want a curve on unexplained disappearances, quantitative, starting with 1800. Huh? People, of course–did you think I meant latch keys? Smooth out known factors and discount steady load-what I want to see is humps and valleys. When? I want it two hours ago; what are you waiting for?"
After he switched off he struggled to his feet, let me hand him his cane and said, "Well, back to the jute mill. We've no facilities here."
"To the White House?" Mary asked eagerly.
"Eh? Be your age. You two have picked up nothing that would change the President's mind."
"Oh. Then what?"
"I don't know. Keep quiet, unless you have a bright idea."
The Old Man had a car at hand, of course, and I drove us back. After I turned it over to block control I said, "Boss, I've got a caper that might convince the President, if you can get him to hold still."
He grunted. "Like this," I went on, "send two agents in, me and one other. The other agent carries a portable scanning rig and keeps it trained on me the whole time. You get the President to watch what happens."
"Suppose nothing happens?"
"I plan to make it happen. First, I am going where the space ship landed, bull my way on through. We'll get close-up pix of the real ship, piped right into the White House. After that I plan to go back to Barnes's office and investigate those round shoulders. I'll tear shirts off right in front of the camera. There won't be any finesse to the job; I'll just bust things wide open with a sledge hammer."
"You realize you would have the same chance as a mouse at a cat convention."
"I'm not so sure. As I see it, these things haven't any superhuman powers. I'll bet they are strictly limited to whatever the human being they are riding can do-maybe less. I don't plan on being a martyr. In any case I'll get you pix, good ones."