The Menacers mh-11

by Donald Hamilton

  "No, sir."

  "Orders are supposed to be obeyed," he said firmly. Then he grinned a little. "On the other hand, a little common sense isn't a bad thing, particularly in situations involving life and death. Are you aware of what this girl saw, or says she saw, out there in the Gulf of California?"

  "Yes, sir."

  Leonard demanded, "How did you learn that? It's supposed to be very highly classified."

  I said wearily, "As you keep pointing out, Mr. Leonard, I spent the night with the kid. I had a bottle of bourbon and she was thirsty. After a while she started talking."

  "You got her tight and pumped her, in other words." I shrugged. "Nothing in my orders said I couldn't give a girl a drink."

  Bannister said, "You're kind of an independent operator, aren't you, Eric? I don't know as I'd want you under my command."

  "No, sir," I said, with a glance towards Mac. "Discipline means different things to different commanders, sir. And in our business we can't always get on the radio and check with the home field. Anyway, nobody was telling me anything on this deal, so I figured I'd better find out a few things for myself."

  "Well, we'll have you study the taped interview and see if the young lady changed any of her testimony under the influence of your whiskey. But having heard her story, what do you think of it?"

  I looked at him for a moment, and let my eyes kind of swing towards Solana, and back. "Do you want me to be honest or diplomatic, sir?"

  "We are keeping no secrets from our friends below the border, son. We have no secrets to keep, in this connection."

  "Sure," I said. "Well, General, I figure there are three possibilities. One, the girl is lying through her teeth for reasons yet to be determined. Two, she saw a real mystery aircraft with forged markings crewed by men in fake uniforms. Three, she saw exactly what she says she saw, and it's you who are a liar, sir; you're trying to cover up something very hush that went wrong. No disrespect intended, of course."

  "Of course." Bannister grimaced, and looked at Mac. "Your people lay it right on the line, don't they?"

  "They are supposed to, when asked. You asked."

  Bannister turned towards Solana. "You heard, Ramуn. Has this man covered the various possibilities considered by your government to explain this sighting and the others?"

  "Si, General. He has expressed it very well. And you will forgive my saying that the last possibility is one that is being considered very seriously. Your official attitude towards these strange aerial manifestations has always suggested that you might have an ulterior motive for wanting them disregarded. I seem to recall UFO sightings officially explained as the planet Venus when that planet was not visible; and radar contacts explained as false readings due to temperature inversions when weather conditions precluded any such phenomena. We have studied the record carefully, General, and always the question arises: why would the U.S. Air Force go to such lengths to ridicule an UFO reports-if it has nothing of its own in the sky that it would like to hide?"

  Obviously, Seсor Ramуn Solana-Ruiz had no language problem whatever. General Bannister winced.

  "You're picking at a sensitive nerve, Ramуn. I've inherited a loused-up mess. Now we've got the research boys up in Colorado trying to set things straight from the scientific end, while I'm supposed to keep the lid from blowing off in a military and diplomatic way." He turned to me. "You, son. Do you believe in these goddamn saucers? I mean, real ones, not phonies with U.S.A.F. insignia on them?"

  "Yes, sir," I said.

  "You've seen one?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Describe it." When I had, he said, "Oh, the green fireballs. Well, we've got explanations for those, I think."

  "Yes, sir," I said. "It used to be marsh gas and now it's electronic plasma or something."

  "Are you needling me, son?"

  "Yes, sir," I said. "In a helpful way, sir, to emphasize what Seсor Solana just said: nobody believes your explanations now. You're in the position of the boy who cried wolf, except that your people have for years been yelling at the top of their lungs that there's no such animal as a wolf. And now folks who don't like us are apparently getting smart and trying to cash in on the general lack of confidence in your pronouncements."

  "You think that's what this Harsek was trying to do down in Mazatlбn?"

  "It seems very likely, sir. He had a choice. Let's assume for the moment that the O'Leary kid actually saw a flying machine of some kind land out there in the drink. Skip the question of whether she lied about the uniforms and markings; just say she did see something and, truthfully or otherwise, attributed it to the U.S.A. Getting wind of this, Harsek's superiors would presumably be interested in two things: finding out as much as possible about the mystery machine itself, and making a propaganda profit from the girl's story. And if it came to a choice, the propaganda she could furnish would be more important to them than the information."

  Leonard demanded, "Why? I should think they'd want to know everything they could find out… "

  "Sure, but just how much technical information can you expect to get out of a scared girl who saw a strange aeronautical gadget for only a minute or two while she was up to her neck in salt water? How much real information about the thing have you got on your tape? Not much, I'll bet. Anyway, it seems obvious that Harsek got instructions to build up the propaganda angle and let the information go, and that's just what he tried to do."

  Leonard looked unconvinced. "By getting the girl shot?"

  "By getting her shot by a U.S. agent," I said. "Look, in itself, her story wasn't much. I mean, even if she talked publicly, who's going to take much stock in some weirdie a hysterical kid thinks she saw after jumping out of a burning boat that blew up practically on top of her? But if it gets around that the U.S. is taking her crazy yarn seriously enough to send a team of agents to silence her; if she's actually killed and the American government assassin, me, is caught red-handed; then her wild story will begin to carry conviction, won't it? And the communists will have a propaganda coup that'll lose us a lot of friends in Seсor Solana's country, where we haven't got many to spare right now, the way I hear it. Am I right, Seсor?"

  The Mexican said judiciously, "Certainly the rumor that an these strange sightings are due to secret American aircraft over Mexican territory is not doing the relations between our countries any good, Seсor. And an incident such as you describe, involving deliberate murder, would certainly have precipitated a great deal of angry talk about Yankee imperialism, perhaps even diplomatic action."

  I looked at General Bannister. "I gather from Seсor Solana's remarks and yours that the dingus that went down off Mazatlбn isn't the only one that's been seen."

  Bannister smiled a bit thinly. "Gather what you like, son, just don't ask questions." He grimaced. "Well, is there anything else you'd like to contribute to the discussion before we boot you the hell out of here and talk about things you're not supposed to know about?"

  "I can't think of anything, sir."

  "What about the O'Leary girl? You met her and talked with her. Do you feel she's lying or telling the truth-what she thinks is the truth?"

  "I don't know, sir," I said. "She's a bright kid. She could be a very bright kid putting on a great act. Hell, she could be a skillful communist agent planted in Mazatlбn specifically to spread false and slanderous rumors about the U.S.A."

  "But you don't think she is?"

  I shrugged. "I didn't feel I was dealing with an experienced pro, no, sir. I'd rate her at most as a talented amateur. And I wouldn't be a bit surprised if she turned out to be just a redheaded kid who went fishing at the wrong time."

  Bannister glanced at Leonard. "I suppose she's being checked."

  "Yes, sir. I have a preliminary report right here. There are some rather interesting things: for instance, both the girl and her deceased husband seem to have been members of a peace group while studying at the University of-"

  "Half the kids in college these days seem to have joined thos
e movements," Bannister said impatiently. "Anyway, the man was killed in Vietnam, wasn't he? Apparently his scruples weren't strong enough to keep him out of combat. Well, keep checking and let me know what turns up. Eric."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Mr. Leonard will give you a transcript of the taped interview. I want you to sit down somewhere and read it carefully. See if it agrees with the story you were told. Make note of any discrepancies. Keep yourself handy. We'll have new instructions for you shortly… and, Eric."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Obviously you did quite right not to shoot. That gets you off the hook. You can get away with a lot of things as long as you're right." He grinned briefly. "But the independent way you operate, you'd damn well not be wrong, son, ever. Remember that."

  "Yes, sir."

  I got a manila folder from Leonard. Mac gave me a key and I went down the hall to his room to do my homework and wait for my orders. I had a hunch they'd be dillies. They were.

  12

  TEE FOLLOWING MORNING was clear and bright and, at that altitude-over a mile high-already crisp with autumn. The four-lane highway leading south from Santa Fe looked fresh and clean, as if it had just been laid down and nobody'd had a chance to mess it up with grease and rubber yet. In the distance, the ten-thousand-foot mountains near Albuquerque were sharply defined against the blue sky.

  Carol Lujan's car was a big white Chevrolet station wagon with thick red wall-to-wall carpeting and shiny red leather upholstery-well, vinyl. It had all the power in the world and all the optional equipment that could be hung on it including air-conditioning, which, I reflected, might come in handy when we got farther south and lower down. After all, I hadn't really frozen in Mazatlбn.

  Surprisingly, in spite of all the automatic and power-assisted gadgetry that tends to bug an old stick-shift man like me, I found the big wagon not too hard to handle. At least it went down the highway quite straight at seventy, instead of wagging its tail unnervingly as so many of them do.

  Carol, sitting beside me, reached out suddenly and patted my hand, resting on the steering wheel. "I'm awfully glad you're coming with me, Matt," she said. "I really hate driving, and particularly driving alone."

  I let a meaningless grin answer for me, and avoided looking at her. As I've already indicated, the orders cooked up for me had turned out to be real cute. It seemed that Mac hadn't had me spend the night at Carol Lujan's place just to keep me out of sight. Be-caused of my association with her this summer, he'd been having her investigated in routine fashion-our private lives don't stay private long in this business-and he'd been quite interested to learn that she was being sent to Mexico on a UFO assignment. It had seemed to him a coincidence we might well take advantage of- if it was a coincidence. And if it wasn't, so much the better.

  "But I've known her a hell of a long time," I'd protested when he'd told me his suspicions.

  "Not continuously," he pointed out. "Unless you've been concealing things from this agency, you haven't known her at all for several years. You do not know what connections she may have formed since you ceased your own photographic, journalistic, and marital endeavors and left Santa Fe to come back to work for us. Do you? Are you even quite certain that your happy reunion with the lady was entirely accidental?"

  I winced. "That was weeks before I was assigned to this saucer mess, sir," I objected. "If anybody put her onto me with this in mind, they must have been clairvoyant."

  "Not necessarily," Mac said. "Has it never happened that an attractive woman has been persuaded, one way or another, to resume a known friendship with a known agent-unfortunately you are becoming pretty well-known in certain circles, Eric-with the expectation that she will prove useful if she should later be given a mission of importance?" Mac shrugged. "In any case, it's a starting point. You will arrange to travel to Mexico with Mrs. Lujan. But in view of the coincidences in which she figures-her making contact with you this summer; her requesting a UFO assignment now-we must leave a large question mark opposite the lady's name." His eyes were cold. "I want you to keep that firmly in mind, Eric."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Whether justifiably or not, this business is highly classified. Under normal circumstances, I would have no objection to your confiding in the lady if it seemed advisable, but things are not normal in Washington these days. Mrs. Lujan may be guilty or she may be innocent, but one thing is certain: she has no official clearance. And with Mr. Leonard looking for a soft spot in which to insert his well-known dagger, you cannot afford to indulge in any breaches of security, nor can I afford to have you. The very existence of this agency may be at stake. I hope you understand."

  "Yes, sir."

  "You will lie to her assiduously even in the most tender moments. You will tell her nothing whatever about this agency or its work, and that includes your own duties and responsibilities. You will maintain your cover story-whatever you've been telling her-with a perfectly straight face even if circumstances conspire to render it totally ridiculous."

  "Yes, sir," I said.

  "Very well. Did you find any discrepancies in the O'Leary statement?"

  "No, the kid is either telling the truth or she's memorized her lies well."

  "It's too bad you lost her, but under the circumstances your action, or lack of it, was probably justified. At least General Bannister seems to think so. He has asked for you to remain on the case in spite of Leonard's objections. Of course, Leonard's people will be working on it, too, but Mrs. Lujan may give us a slight edge. At least she will give you a reasonably convincing cover. Do you know what her plans are?"

  "No, except that she's shopping around for an outsize telephoto lens to snap a saucer's picture with. How she's planning to persuade it to pose for her, I have no idea. I don't think she's ever used one of those long-range optical monstrosities before; I don't think she knows how tricky they are to handle."

  Mac said, "Well, I'm sure you can assist her with the technical details, Eric. You used to be a reasonably competent photographer yourself, as I recall. However, you are not being sent into Mexico just to help the lady take pictures."

  "No, sir."

  "We want the location from which these objects are operating, and we want it as soon as possible. The recent increase in their activity indicates that their efforts will probably reach a dramatic climax shortly, if we are not able to forestall it. You will therefore proceed into Mexico with Mrs. Lujan and persuade her to commence her photographic operations at the scene of the next incident that occurs. We have established that these saucers are quite sensitive about invasions of their privacy. Things seem to happen to people who see them and talk about it-Mrs. O'Leary's disappearance is by no means unique. It follows that even if your attractive photographic friend is not now involved, with a little luck, if she uses her cameras diligently, she soon may be. And of course you will be handy to take advantage of her involvement when it occurs, Eric."

  In other words, we were going to use Carol Lujan for bait. It wasn't the best possible foundation upon which to construct a light-hearted alliance with a member of the opposite sex, ostensibly for purposes of travel and photography, and I couldn't help a certain guilty awkwardness now, which I was fairly sure hadn't gone unnoticed by my blonde companion.

  "This is quite a heap you've got here," I said casually, to be saying something as we drove. "The photography business must be paying off these days."

  Carol laughed. "Well, I'm not quite starving, let's say. Remember when you first taught me how to use Ted's cameras after…after he was killed? And then I went off to work in New York, on your recommendation, and when I came back you were gone, and Beth was packing for Reno, and it was all very sudden and mysterious and, well, shocking. I'd figured yours for one marriage that would go on forever."

  She gave me a curious glance, but my divorce wasn't something I wanted to discuss, even with Carol Lujan, so I let the conversation lapse. We spent a couple of hours in Albuquerque picking up a telephoto lens she'd located by phone, and
some other stuff she needed, and a bite of lunch. It was well after noon when we hit the road again, so we didn't make it out of New Mexico that day. There was no hurry anyway, as Carol pointed out. She'd agreed that the best plan was for us to wait for another incident and make a dash for the scene- but until the saucer-men struck again, we didn't really know where we were going.

  We stopped for the night in Lordsburg, therefore, down in the lower left-hand corner of the state. It was a typical western community with the Southern Pacific railroad tracks on one side of the main drag, and most of the town on the other.

  After checking us into a motel, I left Carol to take a shower, and drove her car to a nearby filling station to be serviced. She was a nice girl-at least I hoped she was, Mac's suspicions notwithstanding-but the sticker on the door said she was as casual as most women about little things like grease and oil, and I didn't want any trouble south of the border where mechanics are scarce and auto parts scarcer.

  It was dark when I returned to the motel. When I knocked on the door, Carol's voice said for me to come in, it wasn't locked. I found her, in a short white terry-cloth robe or beach coat, sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed with an open attachй case beside her and a lot of papers scattered around her, one of which seemed to be a map of Mexico. She looked up as I entered.

  "It's no use," she said disgustedly. "I can't make any sense of these sightings. The things just seem to pop up-or down-all over northwestern Mexico, without any pattern or reason or anything."

  I went over to the dresser to put down the cardboard icebucket I'd filled from the machine near the office. Again, the skeptical attitude seemed indicated, and I said, "Look, just between us, doll, do you really believe in these gadgets?"