Donald Hamilton - The Menacers

"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 those 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.

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?"