"Strange? Oh, you mean the flying saucers some folks have been seeing. Yeah, I had a guy in here two nights ago who claimed he saw one down near Chickasha. Said it was big and bright and sailed right over his car without making a sound. Can you beat that? Myself, I don't believe anything I don't see with my own eyes, but I gotta admit this guy sure thought he saw something."
"Really?" Pavel searched his memory. He had heard of the term flying saucers, better known as Unidentified Flying Objects. They had them in Russia, too. In fact, he had once come across a reference to a KGB file on UFOs, but it was classified. He had wondered why the Committee would have such a file.
"Where would I find more information on these flying saucers?" Pavel demanded.
"There's a bunch that's got an office a couple of blocks up. In the Stigman Building. Call themselves FOES, and are supposed to know everything there is to know about them things. Had one as a customer once, but all he did was babble about some kind of government conspiracy."
No one answered when Pavel Zarnitsa knocked on the door of the FOES office, and even though he knew there might not be a direct connection between the sighting of flying saucers in Oklahoma and the strangeness within the Strategic Air Command, the two occurrences could be linked, so he forced the door.
Both the reception area and office were empty. In a drawer of the office desk, he found a map of Oklahoma on which every SAC missile installation was clearly marked, along with notes on approach routes. There were other materials— newspaper clippings on nuclear missiles, a list of FOES chapters across the country and their members. There was also a list of names headed "Preparation Group Two," which began with someone known as Preparation Group Leader Amanda Bull.
Checking the office Rolodex, Pavel found addresses and telephone numbers for everyone on that list.
"Incredible," he said to himself, sinking into a chair. "These lunatic Americans are trying to destroy their own country's missiles."
Pavel began calling each of the numbers. There was no answer on the first two, and when he called the third, he got a frantic woman who at first thought it was her husband calling. She hadn't seen him in two days, when he abruptly left for "one of his ridiculous flying saucer outings," as she put it. It turned out several others had done the same thing. Still others didn't answer their phones.
He dialed another number.
"Ethel Sump speaking."
"You fool!" a woman's sharp voice called from the background somewhere. "We're not supposed to be here. Hang up!"
"Oh, I forgot," Ethel said, and hung up.
That was enough for Pavel Zarnitsa. For some reason, these people were involved in the missile incident, and they were hiding out at the home of a woman named Ethel Sump, whose address card went into his wallet, as Pavel went out the door.
* * *
Amanda Bull was livid.
"These people are idiots," she fumed, as she paced back and forth while waiting for the shadowy image of the World Master to show itself against the pebbled glass. She couldn't understand how Ethel Sump could be so stupid as to pick up the phone. Who knew who could have been on the other line. Since their triumph the other night, secrecy had become crucial. The military was certainly out there investigating the destruction of their missile. And that Remo whatshisface already knew too much. But there was no time to find and liquidate him. There hadn't been enough time to sneak back to the office and remove any of the Preparation Group plans, either. Anyone could find those. That was why, after the incident with Remo, it had become necessary to hide out with Ethel Sump, who had inherited a decrepit farmhouse. It was the only place big enough and remote enough for them all.
But two days of inactivity had begun to wear on everyone's nerves. Something had to be done.
The shadow showed eerily against the glass in response to Amanda's knock. Amanda stopped pacing.
"Yes, Preparation Group Leader. You have something to report?"
"That stupid Ethel answered the phone when it rang— against my explicit instructions. Discipline is becoming a big problem."
"Who was calling?" the World Master inquired reedily.
"I don't know. She hung up before they said anything."
"That was unwise. It may have aroused suspicion where none existed."
"Should I punish her?" Amanda asked. "I feel like punishing someone. I haven't felt this much like punishing anyone since my husband left me."
"No. There are more important matters before us. I have not yet finished repairing the damage to my craft. It must remain concealed in this barn for at least another day."
"Damn!" Amanda said. "We're all sitting ducks if we're discovered here." She began to pace again, her boots clicking on metal flooring. She pulled at her hair. "Is there anything I can do to help? There must be! Two hands are better than one. If we can get this ship going again, we can all escape to—"
"No, Amanda Bull. I overestimated the ability of my craft to carry human beings through your atmosphere. The strain of bearing Preparation Group Two to this place taxed my propulsion unit. It can be repaired in time. But I must never again attempt such a thing."
A dark notch of perplexity showed between Amanda's eyes.
"I don't get it," she said. "How could the weight of twelve people damage a spaceship that carried you all the way across the universe?"
"Because, Preparation Group Leader Bull, my ship is designed to travel in space, where the forces of gravity are not in operation. In your atmosphere, under Earth's gravity, my ship moves less efficiently. Further, you humans weigh more than my people. I miscalculated that factor, resulting in the temporary crippling of the gravitation spheres I have told you about. Do you understand this explanation?"
Amanda nodded her head thoughtfully. "I think so. Yes... it makes sense now. Sure."
"Good. You will repeat my explanation to the others so that their minds are eased. In the meantime, there is work to be done."
"What kind? I'm ready."
"Our second attempt to destroy an American missile was a success. But it has also alerted those who guard those missiles. Our task is now more difficult, and we must compensate for our success."
"Compensate for our success?..."
"Yes," the World Master said slowly, bringing both sets of pipestem arms to the level of his big head. Amanda felt a chill ripple along her back. "It will be difficult to destroy so many dangerous missiles ourselves. Preparation Group One is no more. We are unable to recruit a third preparation group at this time. But our numbers are sufficient to influence the many nuclear disarmament groups. Influence them, and they will influence the United States government to dismantle all nuclear weapons."
"Do you think we can do that?"
"Yes. We need only demonstrate the danger of such weapons. "
"Ho-ow do we do that?" Amanda asked as a sickness settled deep in her stomach.
"The warhead of the missile you so courageously destroyed is still intact. They will attempt to move it from its silo and dispose of it secretly. Station someone in the area. When the warhead is moved, you will capture it and bring it here. I will decide what will be done with it at that time."
"You— you're not going to explode the warhead, are you?"
"I will decide that when you have successfully completed your task."
"But..."
"Do not question my instructions, nor the glorious destiny in which you share. I am your brain, Amanda Bull. Remember that. I am your brain. You are dismissed."
The figure of the World Master receded behind the concealing glass and grew indistinct.
Amanda swallowed hard. The sick feeling in her stomach felt more like a hot catching of her breath. It was that feeling again. Only this time there was no sense of exhilaration. There was just the fear.
She left the ship, which stood in the cool confines of a barn. None of the craft's lights were on, but it floated three feet above the ground. When they had first pushed the weakened object into the barn, it had floated all the way to the top. The antigravity generators— or whatever they were— had been sluggish all during the flight to the Sump farm. Once Amanda ordered everyone off, the ship began to rise uncontrollably. It had been all they could do to get it into the barn and shut the doors. It had been Martin Cannell who suggested they throw a big net over the ship and stake it down. That had worked.
Checking the stakes again, Amanda saw that they were unaffected by the pull of the levitating spacecraft. Probably they would hold until the World Master had everything going again. That was good, Amanda thought. She didn't need more problems at a time like this.