done."
"You're no carrot-top," said Jameson, "but if someday we find you lying around without your scalp we'll consider it fair evidence of your veracity."
"Thanks," conceded Harper. "You boys have a good time over my body. Enjoy a few hearty laughs, while there remains something to snicker about. Won't be long before you'll wish you were me!"
"You know I was only ribbing. I—"
He grabbed the phone before it had time to give a proper whirr, held it to his ear. Harper came to his feet, looking anticipatory.
"Same as before," Jameson told him, replacing the instrument and reaching for his hat. "They want us over at once. We might as well have stayed there in the first place."
"Something has broken," declared Harper, as they hustled outside and clambered into the car. "If those pics had proved to be duds, they'd have said so, with acid for sauce. They wouldn't drag us ten blocks merely to tell us the check proved a flop."
-
8. Conscripted
There were only two men waiting this time. One had stem, leathery features famous throughout the world: General Conway, tall, gray-haired, distinguished. The other one was Benfield, now decidedly grim.
"So!" rumbled General Conway, fixing Harper with a cold eye. "You are the mind-reader?"
"Putting it that way makes me seem like a vaudeville act," said Harper, far from overawed.
"Quite probably," agreed the general, thinking it wasn't so far removed, either. He examined the other carefully, from the shoes up, letting his gaze linger longest on a pair of thick and exceedingly hairy wrists. His mental diagnosis was not flattering: it determined the subject to be a powerful and presumably intelligent man, who would have the misfortune to look like an ape when in officer's uniform. Too broad, squat and hirsute to fit the part of a captain or colonel.
Harper said informatively, "That's nothing; you ought to see me naked. I resemble a curly rug. Hence the word rugged."
The general stiffened authoritatively. Jameson looked appalled. Benfield was too preoccupied to have any reaction.
"If you know what is in my mind, there's little need to speak," declared General Conway. "What does it tell you?"
"An awful ruckus has started," replied Harper, without hesitation. "And I'm certified sane."
The other nodded. "Your witness has confirmed that the men in that car were the same three who set out for Venus about eighteen months ago. The F.B.I, is following their trail forward and backward, and already has found two more witnesses who say the same." He rested on a table-edge, folded his arms, gazed steadily at his listener. "This is a most serious business."
"It'll get worse," Harper promised, "if that is any consolation."
"This is a poor time for levity," reproved the general. "We are treating the matter with the importance it deserves. All forces of law and order in the west are combining in an effort to trace that Thunderbug back to its starting-point, in the hope that the ship may be located in that area. A forward trace is also being made, despite the fact that it's likely to prove futile, the machine having been abandoned by this time."
"Neither the ship nor the car matters very much. It's those three rampaging—"
"We are after those as well," Conway interrupted. "All police, military and ancillary organizations have been, or soon will be, alerted. Photographs, fingerprint formulae, and other
"You're no carrot-top," said Jameson, "but if someday we find you lying around without your scalp we'll consider it fair evidence of your veracity."
"Thanks," conceded Harper. "You boys have a good time over my body. Enjoy a few hearty laughs, while there remains something to snicker about. Won't be long before you'll wish you were me!"
"You know I was only ribbing. I—"
He grabbed the phone before it had time to give a proper whirr, held it to his ear. Harper came to his feet, looking anticipatory.
"Same as before," Jameson told him, replacing the instrument and reaching for his hat. "They want us over at once. We might as well have stayed there in the first place."
"Something has broken," declared Harper, as they hustled outside and clambered into the car. "If those pics had proved to be duds, they'd have said so, with acid for sauce. They wouldn't drag us ten blocks merely to tell us the check proved a flop."
-
8. Conscripted
There were only two men waiting this time. One had stem, leathery features famous throughout the world: General Conway, tall, gray-haired, distinguished. The other one was Benfield, now decidedly grim.
"So!" rumbled General Conway, fixing Harper with a cold eye. "You are the mind-reader?"
"Putting it that way makes me seem like a vaudeville act," said Harper, far from overawed.
"Quite probably," agreed the general, thinking it wasn't so far removed, either. He examined the other carefully, from the shoes up, letting his gaze linger longest on a pair of thick and exceedingly hairy wrists. His mental diagnosis was not flattering: it determined the subject to be a powerful and presumably intelligent man, who would have the misfortune to look like an ape when in officer's uniform. Too broad, squat and hirsute to fit the part of a captain or colonel.
Harper said informatively, "That's nothing; you ought to see me naked. I resemble a curly rug. Hence the word rugged."
The general stiffened authoritatively. Jameson looked appalled. Benfield was too preoccupied to have any reaction.
"If you know what is in my mind, there's little need to speak," declared General Conway. "What does it tell you?"
"An awful ruckus has started," replied Harper, without hesitation. "And I'm certified sane."
The other nodded. "Your witness has confirmed that the men in that car were the same three who set out for Venus about eighteen months ago. The F.B.I, is following their trail forward and backward, and already has found two more witnesses who say the same." He rested on a table-edge, folded his arms, gazed steadily at his listener. "This is a most serious business."
"It'll get worse," Harper promised, "if that is any consolation."
"This is a poor time for levity," reproved the general. "We are treating the matter with the importance it deserves. All forces of law and order in the west are combining in an effort to trace that Thunderbug back to its starting-point, in the hope that the ship may be located in that area. A forward trace is also being made, despite the fact that it's likely to prove futile, the machine having been abandoned by this time."
"Neither the ship nor the car matters very much. It's those three rampaging—"
"We are after those as well," Conway interrupted. "All police, military and ancillary organizations have been, or soon will be, alerted. Photographs, fingerprint formulae, and other
Similar Books
