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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/31123-h.zip b/31123-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0071dd4 --- /dev/null +++ b/31123-h.zip diff --git a/31123-h/31123-h.htm b/31123-h/31123-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a5c72b0 --- /dev/null +++ b/31123-h/31123-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2408 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Observers, by G. L. Vandenburg + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + h2 {font-weight: normal;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 2em auto; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .rgt {text-align: right;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em; width: auto;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .sp1 {font-size: 150%;} + .bk1 {margin: 2em auto; width: 22em;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Observers, by G. L. Vandenburg + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Observers + +Author: G. L. Vandenburg + +Release Date: January 30, 2010 [EBook #31123] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OBSERVERS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1><span class="sp1">THE OBSERVERS</span></h1> + +<h2>By G. L. VANDENBURG</h2> + +<div class="bk1"><p><big><b><i>You can't be too suspicious when +security is at stake. When everybody +who is after a key military +job wears a toupee, it is obviously +a bald case of espionage.</i></b></big></p></div> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">A job</span> as laboratory technician +with the Army Weapons +Development Center carried +about as much prestige as a bat +boy in a World Series.</p> + +<p>George Fisher was a laboratory +technician.</p> + +<p>He was a shy but likeable fellow, +a diligent worker and +trustworthy. He didn't talk. He +was rarely talked to. He had no +burning ambition to push himself +ahead in the world. Being +an assistant to the brains was +good enough for him. He had a +commendable talent for minding +his own business.</p> + +<p>In a security job these qualities +counted ahead of scientific +knowledge.</p> + +<p>One day George Fisher turned +up dead. The initial shock and +concern experienced by his superiors +was soon overcome by +the coroner's finding. Suicide.</p> + +<p>Harry Payne was the Civilian +Personnel Director of Fort +Dickson. It was his job to find +a replacement for George Fisher.</p> + +<p>"Miss Conway!" Harry's voice +lashed into the intercom.</p> + +<p>There was an interminable +pause. He cursed under his +breath.</p> + +<p>Then, "Yes, Mr. Payne?"</p> + +<p>"Where the hell were you? +Never mind. Bring me the file +on George Fisher."</p> + +<p>"George Fisher?" Miss Conway +was in her favorite state of +mind ... confusion. "But he's +dead, isn't he?"</p> + +<p>Harry let out a deep anguished +groan. "Yes, Miss Conway, +he's dead. That's why I want his +file. That answer your question?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Be there in a jiffy!"</p> + +<p>Harry could tell she was bubbling +over with smiles as she +spoke. A few more centuries +would pass, he thought, before +they manufactured another +broad as dumb as Miss Conway.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He stuffed his hands in his +pockets and looked out the window. +Across the parade ground +he could see the Army Weapons +Development Center. He had no +idea what new bomb they might +be working on behind those +heavily guarded fences. He +didn't care.</p> + +<p>He was only concerned with +the people who worked there. +The rest of Fort Dickson used +mostly Civil Service Personnel. +But the barricaded security +jungle across the parade grounds +was more particular about its +hired help. A person's record had +to be spotless almost from the +day of his conception ... or a +person could not even gain entrance.</p> + +<p>Harry had never been inside +Weapons Development. He had +once been to traffic court as a +roaring juvenile eighteen years +before. That was enough to bar +him from even visiting. He realized, +though, that the army +couldn't afford to take chances.</p> + +<p>Hiring new technicians required +an arduous screening +process. Harry loathed it. He was +thankful that the personnel at +Weapons Development were +highly paid and usually permanent. +He never had to hire more +than one person a year.</p> + +<p>Miss Conway swept into the +office and handed Harry the +folder.</p> + +<p>"Thanks," he muttered.</p> + +<p>"Don't mention it, boss."</p> + +<p>Harry called after her as she +went back toward the reception +room.</p> + +<p>"Stay by your desk, will you? +The government may need you."</p> + +<p>A muffled giggle was her only +response.</p> + +<p>Miss Conway was a civil service +employee. She had been +Harry's secretary for six +months. Like most other civil +service personnel, according to +Harry's way of thinking she was +a tower of inefficiency. His chief +annoyance stemmed from the +fact that the army had arbitrarily +placed her in his office. He +had been given no choice in the +matter. It was one hell of a way +to treat a personnel director, he +thought.</p> + +<p>He sat at his desk gloomily +aware of the headaches he'd have +to face in his quest for George +Fisher's replacement. He opened +the folder and glanced at the vital +statistics.</p> + +<p>Fisher, George—Age: 40—Weight: +160—Height: 5′9″—Eyes: +Green—Hair: None—Complexion: +Light—Date of +Employment: 10/7/58—Date of +Departure: 4/12/59—Reason: +Suicide—etc., etc. Harry yawned. +Statistics bored him.</p> + +<p>He turned to a page marked +"Qualifications" and started +reading. The phrase "Education +and experience in nuclear physics +required," caught his eye. +The requirement was no surprise +to him. But whenever he saw it +he took a few minutes off to indulge +his curiosity. What <i>was</i> +the big project at Weapons Development? +He'd love to know. +He wouldn't find out, of course. +And the inability to find out naturally +gave his imagination the +widest latitude. His most persistent +theory involved an atomic +powered rocket capable of knocking +the Russians' manned satellites +out of space. The Russians +were still ahead of everyone and +their latest satellites were +heavily armed. As usual they +were lording it over the rest of +the world. And the rest of the +world had not come up with an +effective answer to this challenge.</p> + +<p>Harry closed the folder. He +glanced at a list of technical +schools. He would call each of +them and ask them to submit a +list of lab technicians. He would +also look over the field of technicians +still left in private enterprise.</p> + +<p>The intercom buzzed.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Miss Conway?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Ralston is here."</p> + +<p>"Who is Miss Ralston?"</p> + +<p>"She has an appointment with +you."</p> + +<p>"An appointment!" Harry was +baffled. "Who made it?"</p> + +<p>"I did. I guess I forgot to tell +you."</p> + +<p>Harry closed his eyes and +counted to ten. "Thank you, +Miss Conway. Will you step into +my office for a moment?" He +tried to control his mounting anger.</p> + +<p>She breezed into the office.</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss Conway, will you +please tell me who is this Miss +Ralston?"</p> + +<p>"She operates 'Ralston Personnel +Consultants'. I think she +wants to talk to you about the +replacement for George Fisher. +You know, the one who died."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, I know. And <i>you</i> +know, Miss Conway, we don't do +business through agencies."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Miss Ralston doesn't run +an agency. She told me. Her business +is much more exclusive than +that. She handles very highly +specialized people. That's the +reason why ..."</p> + +<p>"I know. That's why you gave +her an appointment with me," +said the exasperated personnel +director. "Well, you can go right +back out and tell her I've canceled +the appointment. This +is a security job we're filling +and ..."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Before Harry could utter another +syllable his attention was +drawn to the doorway. The view +to the outer office was blocked +by a bundle of curves. The most +alluring female bombshell his +eyes had ever beheld put everything +important out of his mind.</p> + +<p>"I didn't realize you were being +so inconvenienced, Mr. +Payne. I'm terribly sorry." Her +eyes drooped. "I can take my +business elsewhere." Miss Ralston's +voice was just above a half +whisper. The words came out +warm and intoxicating.</p> + +<p>"No, wait! Wait a minute, +Miss Ralston." Harry was out +of his chair and at the door. He +took her arm. "Who said anything +about inconvenience? Come +in. Come in. That'll be all, Miss +Conway. Thanks."</p> + +<p>The secretary giggled and +left. Miss Ralston sat down and +lit a cigarette. Harry noticed she +was wearing a beige knit suit +with a neckline that spoke volumes. +Every curve was in the +right place. Every movement had +another movement all its own.</p> + +<p>Harry knew she was bound to +talk business and he knew there +wasn't much he could do for her +in that direction. But at thirty-five, +and eligible, he just couldn't +let this woman leave his office. +Harry Payne was a sucker +for a gorgeous face. He knew it +and he knew the gorgeous face +knew it.</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Miss Ralston, when +did my secretary arrange this +appointment for you?"</p> + +<p>"I called yesterday."</p> + +<p>Harry arched his eyebrows +and smiled. "Yesterday? What +prompted you to call me?"</p> + +<p>"You're looking for a laboratory +technician, aren't you?"</p> + +<p>"What gave you that idea?" +he asked, not caring in the +slightest what gave it to her.</p> + +<p>"I make it my business to +comb the papers every day, Mr. +Payne. I came across the news +of George Fisher's suicide and +called you. Simple as that."</p> + +<p>"You don't waste any time."</p> + +<p>She smiled and pursed her +lips. "Do you?"</p> + +<p>"I try not to."</p> + +<p>"I have seven clients who +would qualify for the job. I'd +appreciate it if you'd see them."</p> + +<p>"Well, as a matter of fact, +Miss Ralston ..."</p> + +<p>She leaned forward with an +inquisitive "Yes?"</p> + +<p>Harry cleared his throat. "As +a matter of fact I'm not supposed +to do business with civilian +agencies."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Payne," she smiled demurely, +"do I look like an +agency? Or do I look like a Personnel +Consultant?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Now there was an opening, +Harry thought, but it might be +best to avoid it. "You're working +to get someone a job. It +amounts to the same thing."</p> + +<p>"I see. Then how <i>do</i> you go +about hiring your new personnel?"</p> + +<p>"I do the soliciting myself. +Sorry, Miss Ralston, but I don't +make the rules and regulations."</p> + +<p>But the lady was undeterred. +She crossed her legs and sank +further into the easy chair. Her +eyes sparkled at Harry.</p> + +<p>"These clients of mine are all +top men, Mr. Payne. Why couldn't +I just leave you their +names? You can still do the soliciting. +I'd be happy to forego +my regular commission on this +job. Call it the value of prestige."</p> + +<p>Harry recognized another +opening and this time plunged +in. "Suppose we talk it over +later. There's a place at Fourth +Avenue and Woodward called +'Maria's.' Best Italian food in +captivity. I'm through at five. +What about you?"</p> + +<p>She didn't have to say anything. +Her eyes told him he +would be having an Italian dinner +that night. And not alone. +She rose and walked in front of +his desk.</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad we have something +in common, Mr. Payne. I +can't think well on an empty +stomach either."</p> + +<p>After walking her to the outer +office he came back to his +desk. He took a deep breath and +loosened his tie. Dreams like +Miss Ralston didn't materialize +every day. For a first meeting +he figured he hadn't fared too +badly at all. And if this first +date went well he was sure he'd +be seeing a lot of this girl.</p> + +<p>It did not escape Harry's +mind that here was a girl who +was in the habit of getting what +she wanted. But why not? Her +powers of persuasion were +Grade-A. They were so good +they presented him with one big +problem. He had regulations. +Army regulations. He couldn't +violate them. Miss Ralston, it +was obvious, was going to meet +him solely for the purpose of +getting a client a job. Would +he be able to see her again after +she knew he had no intention of +hiring that client?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The following morning Harry +entered the office to find his secretary +unusually busy. She was +pecking away furiously at the +typewriter.</p> + +<p>He handed her a sheet of +paper and said, "Miss Conway, +copy these names and addresses +and when they ..."</p> + +<p>"When they come in you'll see +them at half-hour intervals." She +smiled benignly. "Miss Ralston +just called and told me. Pretty +smart chick, huh, boss?"</p> + +<p>Harry did a slow burn and +ambled into his office. Miss Conway +was right, of course, and +that's what annoyed him. It had +been quite a night. He wined +and dined her. They did all the +bright spots. And, wonder of +wonders, on the first date they +wound up at Paula Ralston's +apartment. She was a captivating +hostess, an exquisite dancer and +something of a sorceress. After +one kiss, an unforgettable one, +Harry had agreed to interview +her seven clients.</p> + +<p>But all this was last night, +Harry reminded himself. Today +was a different matter. He was +in the sanctity of his office now +and capable of clearer thinking. +Paula Ralston had accomplished +the first phase of her mission. +The next move was his. <i>Seeing</i> +the clients, he rationalized, was +not violating the regulations. +And for the moment it satisfied +her.</p> + +<p>She certainly was a determined +girl. Anyone would think, +watching her operate, that a lab +technician was a job of world-shaking +importance. What the +hell, he shrugged, if the girl +didn't look out for her own interests, +she wouldn't have a successful +business. There's only +one way to keep clients happy +and that's to keep them busy.</p> + +<p>Besides, her maneuvering +wasn't going to work anyway. He +just couldn't hire any of them. +His problem now was to stall her +for a couple of days so he could +keep seeing her. In the end he +might possibly tell her the army +had refused to accept any of +them.</p> + +<p>He glanced out the window +and saw the Weapons Development +Center across the parade +ground. Business appeared to be +going on as usual. Routine. +Quiet. Cautious. <i>High time I +start thinking seriously about +that replacement</i>, he thought.</p> + +<p>There was a knock at the +door.</p> + +<p>"Come in."</p> + +<p>Miss Conway bounced in. +"They've started to arrive. The +first one is a Mister Thompson."</p> + +<p>"Okay, let's get started. Send +him in."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Thompson was a small, roundish +man in his mid-forties. He +remained quite at ease during +the interview. Harry began the +session in the usual dull manner, +formulating his questions from +the several sheets of information +Mr. Thompson had brought +with him.</p> + +<p>It wasn't long before Harry +detected something unusual +about the man. But he couldn't +determine what it was. He became +more alert, more interested +as the interview progressed.</p> + +<p>"Where are you from originally, +Mr. Thompson?"</p> + +<p>"Chicago."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes." He glanced at the +written information. "I see you +went to the University."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. My practical experience +is documented on the second +sheet."</p> + +<p>What was it about this guy? +He was overly polite but that +could hardly be considered +strange. His answers were brief, +to the point, even curt. That was +just a personality trait, Harry +supposed. Couldn't condemn a +man for that.</p> + +<p>"How long did you live in +Chicago?"</p> + +<p>"Twenty-one years, sir."</p> + +<p>"Are you married?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir."</p> + +<p>He had noted before that Mr. +Thompson had a distracting habit +of patting his hair. Now he +knew why. He was wearing a +toupee. Harry wondered if the +poor guy was sensitive about it. +If he <i>was</i> that conscious of it, it +might account for his strange +attitude.</p> + +<p>"Thank you for coming in, +Mr. Thompson. I'll submit your +papers to Colonel Waters. If he +has any further interest in you, +don't be surprised if you receive +a visit from a couple of Intelligence +agents. That's routine for +this job. I just tell you in advance +so you won't worry."</p> + +<p>"I understand," he said, rising +and checking his toupee once +more. "Many thanks to you, sir." +He shook Harry's hand and left +the room.</p> + +<p>Harry glanced at the papers +again. Mr. Thompson's background +was impressive indeed. +There didn't seem to be much +question as to his ability. But +what a queer duck he was!</p> + +<p>The second applicant was a +short, wiry man named Chase. +Like his predecessor, he was +brief and to the point with his +answers. He let his qualification +papers speak for themselves. He +was formal and polite.</p> + +<p>Midway through the interview +Harry noticed that he too was +wearing a toupee. If that wasn't +the damnedest coincidence! Fortunately +Mr. Chase didn't have +the annoying habit of patting +his head every thirty seconds. +Harry guessed he either had a +more expensive one or was just +endowed with more confidence +that it would not slip off.</p> + +<p>The interview over, Mr. Chase +offered his thanks and strolled +out.</p> + +<p>Harry had a few moments to +himself before Paula's third +client arrived. He thought +about the first two men. Funny +thing about toupees ... even the +most expensive ones could always +be detected. He couldn't quite +understand why the two men +wore them. They were often used +by playboys, actors, self-styled +over-age Romeos, people whose +niche in society depends upon +their looks. But not scientists or +technicians. In fact Harry couldn't +remember ever having known +one such person who shunned his +baldness in this manner. That +didn't mean they had no right. +But it did seem peculiar as hell.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>By the time the third interview +was over Harry Payne's +curiosity was ablaze. Applicant +number three, Mr. Boles, was +not only wearing a toupee but +had gone one step further. Just +north of his mouth there was a +mustache! A good-looking mustache, +well groomed and shaped, +but phoney as a wax banana.</p> + +<p>For a moment he thought +Paula Ralston might be perpetrating +a joke of elaborate +proportions. He rejected the +idea as fast as it came to him. +He didn't know the girl very well +yet, but he knew her well +enough to know she was strictly +business. <i>She wanted one of +these men to get that job.</i></p> + +<p>He flipped the intercom button +for Miss Conway. She might +be able to tell him ... indirectly.</p> + +<p>"You wanted me, Mr. Payne?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Conway. The three +men who've already been in +here ... have you noticed anything +strange about them?"</p> + +<p>Her eyebrows merged and +spelled perplexity. She pursed +her lips and gave the matter the +gravest consideration. Then she +concluded, "Yes, something very +strange."</p> + +<p>Harry was hopeful. "What was +it?"</p> + +<p>"None of them did very much +talking. Strictly anti-social +types."</p> + +<p>Harry groaned, realizing he +should have known better. +"Thank you, Miss Conway. +That's all."</p> + +<p>"The fourth guy is waiting +outside."</p> + +<p>"Let him sit for a couple of +minutes, then send him in."</p> + +<p>He decided to put the whole +matter out of his mind and get +the interviews over as fast as +possible. There were other, more +serious duties to attend to. The +toupee episode was probably +nothing more than a crazy coincidence +anyway. Strictly an item +for Believe-It-Or-Not.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>By two o'clock that afternoon +the four remaining candidates +had come and gone. And Harry +Payne sat at his desk in the immediate +aftermath questioning +his sanity. All seven men wore +toupees! It was incredible but +true. And now the matter was +one of deep and abiding concern +to him. There was nothing +funny about it. There was a +touch of the macabre in it that +rendered his flesh cold and +weak.</p> + +<p>He lit a cigarette and tried to +pull his thoughts together. Seven +men applying for the same job; +seven men with one thing in +common; seven men as bald as +Doctor Cyclops. Harry had to +abandon the notion that sheer +coincidence brought these men +together. That was too fantastic. +They were brought together by +design.</p> + +<p>Their backgrounds varied in +that they had all worked and +come from different parts of the +country. But those facts were +only on paper. It was an odds-on +bet they all knew each other. +There was even something about +the order in which they arrived +at the office that indicated a pattern +or an over-all plan. Numbers +three, five and six had worn +false mustaches.</p> + +<p>If it was true the seven men +were well acquainted then Paula +Ralston could undoubtedly give +him some answers. Harry had +another dinner engagement with +her at five o'clock. But this date, +he told himself, would be different. +<i>He</i> was going to be all business +until he learned exactly +what she was involved in.</p> + +<p>He picked up the phone, got +an outside line and dialed. Frank +Barnes was a private detective. +A good one. Harry was sure he +could rely on him for a small +favor.</p> + +<p>A subdued, resonant voice answered +on the other end.</p> + +<p>"Frank, Harry Payne here."</p> + +<p>"Harry! Where you been hiding?"</p> + +<p>"I need a favor."</p> + +<p>"Only time you ever call me, +you ingrate."</p> + +<p>"There's a dame called Paula +Ralston. Runs a business called +Ralston Personnel Consultants. +How soon can you get anything +on her?"</p> + +<p>"How soon do you need it?"</p> + +<p>"Today, if possible. You can +call me at home. Any hour."</p> + +<p>After promising Frank to meet +him for lunch one day Harry +sank into an easy chair and tried +to shake the unnerving effect the +seven men had had on him.</p> + +<p>Maybe he shouldn't have called +Frank. This might be something +he should have informed the +army about. No. They'd want to +know what business he had seeing +the seven men in the first +place. He didn't have much of an +answer for that one.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Driving along Woodward +Street toward Fourth Avenue, +Harry was beset with one nagging +question. Why had Paula +Ralston never brought any of +her clients to see him before? He +was the dispenser of over a hundred +good jobs that offered high +salaries. The answer was just as +persistent as the question. <i>Lab +Technician was the only security +job he handled.</i> She was determined +that one of her men get +that job at any cost.</p> + +<p>It wasn't a very pleasant +thought. Harry didn't want to +believe it. He didn't want to believe +that Paula Ralston was going +to mean trouble for him. And +yet he knew that's exactly what +she meant.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>She was waiting for him at +Maria's. She kissed him as he +slipped into the booth beside her. +Through four drinks and a six-course +dinner he watched her +smile. That smile could melt +down the door on a bank vault. +He noticed how she laughed at +all of his wisecracks. When it +was her turn to talk she talked +about him. She offered a toast to +their closer friendship, with special +emphasis on the word +"closer."</p> + +<p>But she did not mention the +seven men. That was the smart +approach, Harry ventured. She'd +save that until she got home and +slipped into something more comfortable.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He stood alone in Paula's living +room nursing a scotch on the +rocks. The night before he had +been too concerned about his +progress with this latter-day +Aphrodite to give a damn about +the place she lived in. He glanced +around the room. Every inch +reeked of success. The furniture +was sleek, modern, exquisitely +contoured ... like its owner. +There wasn't much question +about it, Paula Ralston made a +lot more dough than he did. But +how? That was the question.</p> + +<p>She came out of the bedroom +and mixed herself a drink. She +was a living dream in a black +lace negligee. Transparent. It figured. +A lot of things were beginning +to figure.</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you a secret?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"I didn't think you had any +left." He couldn't take his eyes +from the negligee.</p> + +<p>"I think Mr. Chase and Mr. +Boles are the best of the seven. +I think they come closest to what +you're looking for." She lifted +her glass and clinked it against +his.</p> + +<p>Harry smiled. He wasn't looking +at her anymore. It was more +of an education to look through +her. She was good. Damn good. +She could lull you into believing +the Grand Canyon was brimming +over with silver dollars, all yours +for the taking. It was next to +impossible to doubt the sincerity +in her face.</p> + +<p>"I liked all seven of them," he +said. "But since you know them +better than I do I'll take your +recommendation that Chase and +Boles are the best."</p> + +<p>She moved closer to him. He +could feel the warmth of her +body.</p> + +<p>"We're making some progress, +Harry. We've narrowed the field +down to two candidates."</p> + +<p>Harry kept her maneuvering. +"Paula, I'm still faced with the +problem of finding a way around +the regulations. I can't hire +either one of them until I solve +that."</p> + +<p>Nothing stopped this girl. +Nothing even slowed her down. +She moved still closer to him. +"There's a way around anything +if a man has the right incentive +to look for it."</p> + +<p>He knew what the right incentive +was. He didn't have to go +looking for that. He laid his +drink down, put his arms around +her and kissed her. They walked +to the sofa. Paula stayed close to +him, the ever thoughtful, loving +female companion. She rubbed +his back and neck and sprinkled +him with soft moist kisses. She +never mentioned her clients +again. And Harry promised to +hire one of them the following +day.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He was anxious to get back to +his apartment to find out if +Frank Barnes had called. As he +drove back along Woodward +Street he couldn't put Paula out +of his mind. He already had her +character pegged. But what was +she up to? What was her goal? +She wasn't doing all this for a +lousy commission. The stakes +were bigger than that.</p> + +<p>In a way it was too bad she +was going to have to settle for +less than she bargained for. If +her seven clients hadn't been so +phoney she might have gotten +away with it. But why was it +necessary for them to be phoney? +Why should a girl as shrewd as +Paula send seven men in disguise +to see ...</p> + +<p>Disguise! Somehow that word +threw a different light on the +matter. The men had all been disguised +in places where hair +should grow. They were <i>not</i> bald. +There was something abnormal +about them. And Harry was +ninety percent certain what it +was. The answer was incredible. +There was still a ten-percent +margin for error. For Miss Paula +Ralston's sake he hoped he was +wrong.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Frank Barnes' message was +waiting for him at the switchboard +in the lobby. The word +"urgent" was written on it.</p> + +<p>He raced upstairs and picked +up the phone. Frank answered on +the first ring. He sounded like a +man with a gun at his back.</p> + +<p>"Harry, what the hell kind of a +mess have you gotten yourself +into?"</p> + +<p>"Why? Something go wrong?"</p> + +<p>"You bet your sweet life. An +hour after you called me to check +on that Ralston dame a guy came +into the office and told me to lay +off."</p> + +<p>Harry was silent. And scared. +His answer looked better all the +time.</p> + +<p>"What did the guy look like?"</p> + +<p>"He looked important, Harry. +And he meant business. He had +a big bulge in his pocket and he +made it very clear I'd be up to +my funny bone in hot lead if I +relayed any information about +this girl to you."</p> + +<p>"Frank, was the guy wearing +a toupee?"</p> + +<p>"A what?"</p> + +<p>"A toupee, a hair piece!"</p> + +<p>"How the hell should I know. +I wasn't interested in his coiffure. +He was wearing a black +overcoat, he kept his hand on +that bulge and he didn't care +much for smiling. Harry, you in +trouble with this dame?"</p> + +<p>"What did you find out about +her, Frank?"</p> + +<p>"Between the time you called +and the time the guy strolled into +the office I found out she's +only had this Personnel Consultant +racket for about three +months."</p> + +<p>"You didn't learn anything +else?"</p> + +<p>"After I got warned I decided +to wait'll I talked with you."</p> + +<p>Harry was silent again. His +mind was working.</p> + +<p>"Frank, what causes baldness?"</p> + +<p>"Baldness! Geez, Harry, +you're in a fat mess of trouble +and you're worrying about losing +your hair?"</p> + +<p>"It's important, Frank. I +must find out what causes total +loss of <i>all</i> hair."</p> + +<p>The detective grunted. "Well, +let's see, there are three or four +diseases I know of. Some people +claim it's hereditary. Sometimes +a deficiency in the genes ..."</p> + +<p>"Okay, Frank, that's enough."</p> + +<p>"What do you want me to do +about the girl?"</p> + +<p>"Just as the man told you. Lay +off. I'll call you tomorrow and +let you know what this thing is +all about."</p> + +<p>He hung up the phone and +paced in front of his sofa for +several minutes. It was inconceivable +that the seven men all +had the same disease, the same +gene deficiency or the same +hereditary shortcomings. So his +own answer must be much closer +to the truth. He'd have to wait +until morning to put it to a test. +If he was right he would call +Colonel Waters and dump the +whole bizarre set-up right into +the army's lap where it belonged.</p> + +<p>Again he found himself hoping +he was not right, and, more +important, that Paula Ralston +wasn't what he was beginning +to think she was.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Miss Conway was already in +when Harry arrived at the office. +He managed a half smile for her.</p> + +<p>"Miss Conway, two of the seven +men are coming back this +morning and ..."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Boles is the one +who's getting the job."</p> + +<p>"Who called you this time?" +he asked with exasperation.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Waters."</p> + +<p>Harry's stomach muscles contracted. +"Colonel Waters?"</p> + +<p>"That's right. When you were +gone yesterday the colonel dropped +in to see you. He asked me +if you were working on the replacement +for George Fisher ... +I told him you were right on the +job. And I showed him the information +sheets you had on all +seven men."</p> + +<p>"You did what!!"</p> + +<p>"And Colonel Waters liked the +man named Boles best of all. So +I guess when Mr. Boles comes +in you can tell him the job is +his."</p> + +<p>"You nitwit!" he bellowed. +"You brainless, knuckleheaded ..." +He stomped into his office, +and slammed the door.</p> + +<p>It was difficult for him to +think clearly. He knew he had +to make a move. And fast.</p> + +<p>He stood by the window and +gazed at the Weapons Development +Center across the parade +ground. The low gray buildings +had a quiet peaceful aura about +them. If it weren't for the +guards marching in front of the +great wire fences anyone might +think the place was used for +manufacturing can-openers, automobile +parts, any one of a +thousand harmless products.</p> + +<p>But it wasn't. Weapons Development +represented a vital +link in the country's defense program. +He no longer figured they +were developing a weapon to +counteract Soviet aggression. +They were working on something +far more important. He was just +ninety percent sure of that.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Mr. Boles was the first to arrive. +He sat in an easy chair +which Harry had moved close to +his desk in order to better observe +the man.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Boles, my secretary tells +me Colonel Waters was looking +at your qualifications yesterday +and was very impressed. I gather +from that that the job is +yours."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, sir."</p> + +<p>Harry shoved his chair closer +to him. The toupee was intact. +So was the mustache.</p> + +<p>"Now it'll take the government +about two weeks to complete +a security check-up."</p> + +<p>He could see plainly now that +the man was also wearing false +eyebrows and had no beard. That +did it.</p> + +<p>"I understand, sir," Boles replied.</p> + +<p>"So all I can tell you at the +moment is that you'll be hearing +from us as soon as possible." +Harry got up thinking the interview +was over.</p> + +<p>Mr. Boles remained seated.</p> + +<p>"Miss Ralston would like to see +you, Mr. Payne."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," Harry chuckled, +"I'm going to see her this evening."</p> + +<p>"She wants to see you now."</p> + +<p>"Afraid I can't make it right +now. I have a pile of work to do. +Besides I'm expecting another +client of hers. Have to let him +know he didn't get the job."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Chase is waiting for us +downstairs in the car. You will +come with me, Mr. Payne." The +order was clear and firm.</p> + +<p>Harry didn't like it. "I don't +get it. What's so important that +Miss Ralston has to see me ..."</p> + +<p>He stopped at the sight of the +gun leveled at his chest.</p> + +<p>"When we pass your secretary's +desk, you will tell her you +are taking an early lunch. I will +return you in an hour if you cooperate."</p> + +<p>Harry Payne knew better than +to argue.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Mr. Chase was seated behind +the wheel of a blue sedan. Boles +and Harry climbed into the back +seat. They drove away from Fort +Dickson toward the city.</p> + +<p>The two men remained silent +during the trip. Harry had plenty +of time to think. Why this +sudden move of Paula's? He +must have done something to +motivate it. But what?</p> + +<p>The only person he had talked +to was Frank Barnes and he +hadn't divulged anything to +him. She couldn't be sore because +he had asked Frank to +check on her. Routine investigation +was part of his job. She +knew that. He failed to come up +with an answer. He was worried. +He knew who the seven +men were but he didn't know +where they came from. It could +have been any one of a million +different places. Heaven only +knew what kind of people they +were.</p> + +<p>The shades were drawn in +Paula's apartment. There was no +sign of her. But as soon as Harry +entered the room he forgot about +her anyway. His gaze rested upon +the small, roundish man sitting +in the contour chair, the +bald man with no eyebrows and +no beard.</p> + +<p>"Please be seated, Mr. Payne." +The man's tone was soft and +courteous.</p> + +<p>"Which one are you?" Harry +asked.</p> + +<p>The man was amused. "I am +Mr. Thompson."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yeah," said Harry, +"you're the one who kept patting +your skull. Couldn't you +find one that fit you?"</p> + +<p>Nobody was amused. Boles +and Chase took positions on +either side of Thompson. Their +faces were drawn and sober. +They resembled two bankrupt +morticians.</p> + +<p>"Where is the body beautiful?" +Harry asked. "Or is she +no longer the body beautiful?"</p> + +<p>"Take a look for yourself." It +was Paula's voice. The familiar +sultriness was missing.</p> + +<p>Harry swung around to see her +emerge from the bedroom. "Well, +well, well! If it isn't Miss Lonelyhearts. +Mind if I ask why I'm +here? I mean the gun and all?"</p> + +<p>He had to be flippant. It was +the only way he knew to conceal +the terror he felt in their presence.</p> + +<p>She sat beside him on the sofa. +"Harry, you've disappointed me. +You haven't been playing the +game fair and square."</p> + +<p>"If you're referring to the +private eye I put on you ..."</p> + +<p>"I'm <i>not</i>, Harry. You put him +on, we took him off. Those +things even themselves out."</p> + +<p>Harry shrugged. "Okay, I give +up. What did I do wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Show him, Mr. Thompson." +She lit a cigarette and folded her +legs under her.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson reached into his +pocket and produced a small object. +He tossed it into Harry's +lap. Harry examined it.</p> + +<p>"Do you recognize it?" Mr. +Thompson asked.</p> + +<p>"It's a microphone," Harry replied.</p> + +<p>"That's just what it is." Paula +savagely flung her cigarette to +the floor. Her own disguise, the +one concealing her true, ruthless +self, was gone. Her voice was +cold and harsh. "How much do +you know, Harry? How much?"</p> + +<p>Harry folded his hands, rested +his full weight on the arm of the +sofa and crossed his legs. "How +much is it worth to you?"</p> + +<p>Paula's hand struck with fury +across his face. His cheek went +numb. Blood ran from an uneven +gash left by the diamond in her +ring. He took out his handkerchief +and dabbed at the wound.</p> + +<p>"You're real high class, aren't +you, Paula? They don't make +traitors as high class as you anymore."</p> + +<p>She raised her hand and aimed +for the other cheek. Thompson +bolted out of his chair and +grabbed her.</p> + +<p>"I suggest you have a drink, +Miss Ralston. Let us handle the +rest."</p> + +<p>Paula was furious. "He's not +going to tell you anymore ..."</p> + +<p>"We'll handle the rest!!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Thompson didn't raise his +voice. But there was a firmness, +a deadly conviction in his inflection. +Paula went for a drink.</p> + +<p>Harry didn't like that. Paula +had a temper. He could deal with +her. But the others ... they displayed +very little emotion. He +had no idea how to handle them.</p> + +<p>Thompson sat down again +facing Harry.</p> + +<p>"The fact is," he began gracefully, +"we discovered this microphone +and four others like it here +in Miss Ralston's apartment. One +in each room. Now we are very +cautious people, Mr. Payne. We +are quite certain no one knows +our whereabouts. It is logical +then that the microphones have +not been here long. Miss Ralston's +only visitors are ourselves +and you. You have known her +two days. So you are the only +person who knows this apartment +well enough to have planted +these tell-tale devices in a +hurry."</p> + +<p>"Why should I want to plant +them?"</p> + +<p>"You took the trouble to have +Miss Ralston investigated. But +more than one means of investigation +produces better results. +The microphones were wired to +a small radio which we located +in the basement of this building. +We have assumed that everything +spoken into them was +transmitted over the radio and +recorded at your end. That +makes sense, doesn't it?"</p> + +<p>Harry was confused. "So far, +so good."</p> + +<p>"We want those recordings, +Mr. Payne."</p> + +<p>They seemed to be convinced +the microphones were his. Only +Harry knew it wasn't true. But +to admit it might mean he +wouldn't leave Paula's place +alive. He derived no comfort +from the knowledge that someone +else was interested in +Paula's activities. That wasn't +helping him with his problem of +the moment. He could see no +clear way out. He had to keep +stalling. And as long as they +were so sure of themselves it +might even be to his advantage +to maintain a certain arrogance.</p> + +<p>"I might as well tell you, +Thompson, I have no intention +of cooperating until I know a +few facts about you and your +friends. Like who you are, +where you're from, what you're +after ..."</p> + +<p>"It is not necessary, in order +to tell us where the recordings +are," smiled Mr. Thompson, +"that you know anything more +about us."</p> + +<p>"It isn't necessary," said +Harry, "but I want to know."</p> + +<p>Chase started to voice an objection +but Harry broke in.</p> + +<p>"And don't tell me you have +more persuasive ways of making +me talk. You can use force but +it'll take time. Your time is valuable +or you wouldn't have +hustled me over here as fast as +you did. So let's <i>not</i> waste your +time. You tell me, then I'll tell +you."</p> + +<p>Thompson glanced at his two +compatriots. Their faces registered +dissatisfaction. Their silence +said that Harry was right. +Time was valuable. They would +follow the path of least resistance.</p> + +<p>"Our point of origin," Mr. +Thompson began, "is Correylla, +roughly seven-eighths the size of +Earth, in the Syrybic Galaxy. It +is approximately ... in your figures +... seventy-five trillion +miles distant."</p> + +<p>"Must be quite a trip." Harry +tried to be placid.</p> + +<p>Mr. Thompson was momentarily +amused. "Travel through +Time and Space is something we +take for granted. The farthest +corners of the Universe are ours +for the reaching. That is the +foremost reason for our visit to +your Earth. You might call us +Galactic Observers. You see, we +already control the twelve inhabited +planets in our own Galaxy. +And at this time we have no desire +to take on any more responsibility +than that. But neither +do we want interference from +another Galaxy ... such as this +one!"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Harry was surprised. "You're +giving this world a lot of credit. +We've barely moved off the +Earth. What makes you think we +could cause your people any trouble?"</p> + +<p>"By merely projecting yourselves +into space you have eliminated +the major obstacle to +space travel. Remember it took +thousands of years for someone +on your Earth to discover electricity. +But observe the wonders +you have accomplished with it +in the relatively few years <i>since</i> +it was discovered. The same +principle applies to your conquest +of space. We are not here +to do you harm, Mr. Payne. It +is merely our intention to warn +you, when the time comes, of the +dangers you face should you decide +to venture too far."</p> + +<p>"For people who intend no +harm I'd say you and your +friends are putting on quite an +unconvincing show."</p> + +<p>"I assure you, Mr. Payne, our +visit to Earth was intended purely +for observational purposes!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, <i>was</i>?"</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Thompson's face was grim. +The easy chair that had accommodated +his small, roundish +frame so perfectly now appeared +to be uncomfortable for him. A +redness crept into his cheeks and +spread over his smooth, tight +scalp.</p> + +<p>"The fact is that your government +has known about us for +six months. Our exact whereabouts +has been a well guarded +secret ... but they <i>were informed</i> +of our presence here on +Earth."</p> + +<p>"Informed! But who could +tell them ..."</p> + +<p>Chase broke in impatiently. +"We are wasting time! We must +get those recordings!"</p> + +<p>The interruption was dismissed +with a wave of Thompson's +hand.</p> + +<p>"Your government was informed +by George Fisher."</p> + +<p>"George Fisher!" Harry gulped.</p> + +<p>"You see, Mr. Fisher ... that +wasn't really his name, you understand +... was one of us ... a +member of our observation team. +After we arrived here ... well, +you might say he defected, gave +your government the benefit of +his somewhat limited knowledge."</p> + +<p>Harry whistled. "And because +of him your mission is no longer +observational."</p> + +<p>"That remains to be seen."</p> + +<p>Harry leaned forward on the +sofa. "You have any ideas, Mr. +Thompson, about why he defected? +I'm curious to know why a +man is unhappy enough with his +own lot to run away and put +himself in the hands of a civilization +that is in every way alien +to him."</p> + +<p>Thompson's answer was brief +and deliberately ambiguous. +"Mr. Fisher was a traitor. What +more can be said of him?"</p> + +<p>"So he didn't commit suicide," +Harry muttered.</p> + +<p>"That's right, Mr. Payne."</p> + +<p>"I take it you're not sure of +how much Fisher told the government +before you got to him."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Fisher's limitations were +familiar to us. It is the potential +of your own scientists now that +they have his information that +we are most concerned with."</p> + +<p>Keep stalling, Harry reminded +himself ... keep speculating, +guessing, theorizing, anything +for time.</p> + +<p>"So you know the project that +Weapons Development is working +on but you don't know how +much progress has been made. +And you want to place one of +your own people in there to find +out."</p> + +<p>"Thanks to you, we have succeeded +in doing just that." +Thompson smiled with satisfaction, +having kept his part of a +bargain. "Now about those recordings...."</p> + +<p>"I'm not through asking questions."</p> + +<p>"But I'm through answering +them, Mr. Payne. Tell us where +the recordings are."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Harry studied the clean, +smooth surface of Thompson's +face. There was a gentleness in +his large, round eyes. There was +also an unfriendliness. Harry +had to keep stalling. He knew +any answer he gave them would +shorten his life expectancy by +about thirty-five years.</p> + +<p>"You've gotten me into a mess +of trouble, Mr. Thompson. I +think you owe me a little more. +My memory might prove clearer +if I knew what was going on at +Weapons Development."</p> + +<p>Thompson glanced at his two +companions. They showed no +sign of dissent.</p> + +<p>"Very well, Mr. Payne. For +some years now our people have +been working on a method of +reversing the polarity of the +atom. We have tried to create an +electro-magnetic field which +would repel rather than attract. +Once we are able to accomplish +this we can develop an instrument +capable of disturbing the +molecular structure of any object +in the universe."</p> + +<p>"In other words ..." Harry +frowned at him, "a weapon capable +of disintegration?"</p> + +<p>"Precisely!"</p> + +<p>Harry sat there, stunned. A +few moments seemed hardly +enough to digest the knowledge +that Weapons Development was +working on the most incredibly +advanced weapon of all time. +And Mr. Thompson and company +were out to sabotage it. +Their people could not afford to +allow another world to beat +them to the punch. Who controlled +this weapon controlled the +universe. Stalling the aliens was +more important than ever now. +He couldn't heighten the danger +to his own life. It wasn't worth +a lead nickel anyway. If it had +been, Thompson wouldn't have +consented to tell him this much.</p> + +<p>Someone else had wired +Paula's apartment. It was reasonable +to assume it was someone +on his side.</p> + +<p>"The recordings, please!!" +Boles was becoming very impatient.</p> + +<p>Harry looked up and found a +gun at his head. "The recordings +are at my office," he lied.</p> + +<p>Thompson walked to the telephone +table and brought the instrument +to him. "You will call +your secretary," he said, "and +tell her you have been detained at +lunch. You are sending Mr. +Chase to pick up the recordings."</p> + +<p>Harry glanced around the +room. Paula was sulking at the +bar near the door. Drowning +her conscience, he thought. They +must have paid her a fortune to +sell out her own people. Boles +and Chase both had their guns +poised. Thompson picked up the +receiver and extended it to him.</p> + +<p>There was no way out, no stalling +them any longer. To make a +break for it would be suicidal. In +the state of confusion his mind +was in, he could think of only one +thing to do. When he reached +Miss Conway, he would have to +warn her somehow—a few desperate +words and pray that she +would be alert enough to realize +he was in trouble and get the information +to the authorities.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>He took the phone and dialed. +He gave the Fort Dickson operator +his office extension. He waited. +The phone rang. It rang +again. Then three more times. +Damn that girl! Her coffee +breaks were extended vacations!</p> + +<p>Finally the phone was picked +up. But the voice that answered +was male.</p> + +<p>"Who is this?" Harry demanded.</p> + +<p>The voice replied, "Colonel +Waters."</p> + +<p>"This is Harry. I'm at Paula +Ralston's apartment ... emergency...!"</p> + +<p>The three men were on top of +him. Chase smashed the butt of +his gun across Harry's knuckles. +The receiver fell to the floor. +Harry let out a pained groan as +Boles' gun butt struck him on +the temple. Thompson replaced +the receiver. Harry was on the +floor. He put his hands to his +head for protection as Chase savagely +kicked at him. His vision +blurred but he managed to see +that Paula was still at the bar +sipping a drink, sadistically enjoying +the whole show.</p> + +<p>"He's no longer any use to +us," Thompson declared. "You +may do your job!"</p> + +<p>Harry shook his head, fighting +to stay conscious. His vision +cleared long enough to see Chase +and Boles standing over him, +their guns pointed at either side +of his head.</p> + +<p>There was a volley of deafening +shots. There was smoke, +voices, people running in every +direction. More gunfire. Glass +shattering. Furniture knocked +over.</p> + +<p>But Harry felt no pain.</p> + +<p>When he looked again Chase +and Boles were no longer to be +seen. He caught a glimpse of +Thompson running for another +position of cover. A final gunshot +brought him to the floor.</p> + +<p>Harry struggled to a sitting +position. Then he saw Chase and +Boles dead on the floor beyond +the sofa. Half a dozen soldiers +were in the process of subduing +a swearing, clawing Paula Ralston.</p> + +<p>And in the doorway he saw +Miss Conway.</p> + +<p>She looked incongruous as +hell with a smouldering revolver +in her hand. She crossed the +room and knelt beside him. She +pulled him around to let his head +rest on the sofa.</p> + +<p>"Harry! Harry," she whispered, +brushing his hair back, "are +you hurt badly? What did they +do to you?"</p> + +<p>He tried to get up.</p> + +<p>"You stay right where you are, +honey." Her voice was soothing +and gentle. There was a soft, +compassionate light in her eyes. +No longer that dumb stare. She +leaned over and kissed him. +"There. You're going to be all +right."</p> + +<p>"What the hell are you doing +here?" Harry bellowed.</p> + +<p>"Now you just sit back and +relax. I'm just doing my job."</p> + +<p>"Your jo ..." A low steady +wail rolled off his lips. "Oh, no! +Say it isn't so. Tell me I'm really +dead. I know I deserve to be."</p> + +<p>"I may be the world's lousiest +secretary, but I'm considered not +bad in the counter-intelligence +department."</p> + +<p>Harry repeated the wail.</p> + +<p>"We were afraid from the +time George Fisher turned himself +over to the government," she +continued, "that his days were +numbered. But the longer he remained +alive the more apprehensive +his people would become. We +figured one day they'd make a +wrong move. And that would be +their big mistake. Well, their +move was to kill George Fisher +and try to get one of their own +agents into Weapons Development. +That meant exposing +themselves. It also meant you +had to be watched ... among +others. That's where I came in."</p> + +<p>"And playing it about as +dumb as I've ever seen."</p> + +<p>She laughed. "Sounds like I +played the part a little too convincingly."</p> + +<p>She stood up and helped him +to his feet. "You're coming with +me."</p> + +<p>"Where to? Hey, what are you +doing?"</p> + +<p>"There's something about this +place that I don't like. I'm no sultry +brunette, but I'm not a dumb +blonde either." She kissed him, +then took a last look at Paula's +place and led him out the door.</p> + +<p class="rgt"><b>THE END</b></p> + +<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b> +This etext was produced from <i>Amazing Stories</i> November 1959. +Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. +copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and +typographical errors have been corrected without note.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Observers, by G. L. 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Vandenburg + +Release Date: January 30, 2010 [EBook #31123] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE OBSERVERS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + +THE OBSERVERS + +By G. L. VANDENBURG + + + _You can't be too suspicious when security is at stake. When + everybody who is after a key military job wears a toupee, it is + obviously a bald case of espionage._ + + +A job as laboratory technician with the Army Weapons Development Center +carried about as much prestige as a bat boy in a World Series. + +George Fisher was a laboratory technician. + +He was a shy but likeable fellow, a diligent worker and trustworthy. He +didn't talk. He was rarely talked to. He had no burning ambition to push +himself ahead in the world. Being an assistant to the brains was good +enough for him. He had a commendable talent for minding his own +business. + +In a security job these qualities counted ahead of scientific knowledge. + +One day George Fisher turned up dead. The initial shock and concern +experienced by his superiors was soon overcome by the coroner's finding. +Suicide. + +Harry Payne was the Civilian Personnel Director of Fort Dickson. It was +his job to find a replacement for George Fisher. + +"Miss Conway!" Harry's voice lashed into the intercom. + +There was an interminable pause. He cursed under his breath. + +Then, "Yes, Mr. Payne?" + +"Where the hell were you? Never mind. Bring me the file on George +Fisher." + +"George Fisher?" Miss Conway was in her favorite state of mind ... +confusion. "But he's dead, isn't he?" + +Harry let out a deep anguished groan. "Yes, Miss Conway, he's dead. +That's why I want his file. That answer your question?" + +"Yes, sir. Be there in a jiffy!" + +Harry could tell she was bubbling over with smiles as she spoke. A few +more centuries would pass, he thought, before they manufactured another +broad as dumb as Miss Conway. + + * * * * * + +He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked out the window. Across +the parade ground he could see the Army Weapons Development Center. He +had no idea what new bomb they might be working on behind those heavily +guarded fences. He didn't care. + +He was only concerned with the people who worked there. The rest of Fort +Dickson used mostly Civil Service Personnel. But the barricaded security +jungle across the parade grounds was more particular about its hired +help. A person's record had to be spotless almost from the day of his +conception ... or a person could not even gain entrance. + +Harry had never been inside Weapons Development. He had once been to +traffic court as a roaring juvenile eighteen years before. That was +enough to bar him from even visiting. He realized, though, that the army +couldn't afford to take chances. + +Hiring new technicians required an arduous screening process. Harry +loathed it. He was thankful that the personnel at Weapons Development +were highly paid and usually permanent. He never had to hire more than +one person a year. + +Miss Conway swept into the office and handed Harry the folder. + +"Thanks," he muttered. + +"Don't mention it, boss." + +Harry called after her as she went back toward the reception room. + +"Stay by your desk, will you? The government may need you." + +A muffled giggle was her only response. + +Miss Conway was a civil service employee. She had been Harry's secretary +for six months. Like most other civil service personnel, according to +Harry's way of thinking she was a tower of inefficiency. His chief +annoyance stemmed from the fact that the army had arbitrarily placed her +in his office. He had been given no choice in the matter. It was one +hell of a way to treat a personnel director, he thought. + +He sat at his desk gloomily aware of the headaches he'd have to face in +his quest for George Fisher's replacement. He opened the folder and +glanced at the vital statistics. + +Fisher, George--Age: 40--Weight: 160--Height: 5'9"--Eyes: Green--Hair: +None--Complexion: Light--Date of Employment: 10/7/58--Date of Departure: +4/12/59--Reason: Suicide--etc., etc. Harry yawned. Statistics bored him. + +He turned to a page marked "Qualifications" and started reading. The +phrase "Education and experience in nuclear physics required," caught +his eye. The requirement was no surprise to him. But whenever he saw it +he took a few minutes off to indulge his curiosity. What _was_ the big +project at Weapons Development? He'd love to know. He wouldn't find out, +of course. And the inability to find out naturally gave his imagination +the widest latitude. His most persistent theory involved an atomic +powered rocket capable of knocking the Russians' manned satellites out +of space. The Russians were still ahead of everyone and their latest +satellites were heavily armed. As usual they were lording it over the +rest of the world. And the rest of the world had not come up with an +effective answer to this challenge. + +Harry closed the folder. He glanced at a list of technical schools. He +would call each of them and ask them to submit a list of lab +technicians. He would also look over the field of technicians still left +in private enterprise. + +The intercom buzzed. + +"What is it, Miss Conway?" + +"Miss Ralston is here." + +"Who is Miss Ralston?" + +"She has an appointment with you." + +"An appointment!" Harry was baffled. "Who made it?" + +"I did. I guess I forgot to tell you." + +Harry closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Thank you, Miss Conway. Will +you step into my office for a moment?" He tried to control his mounting +anger. + +She breezed into the office. + +"Now, Miss Conway, will you please tell me who is this Miss Ralston?" + +"She operates 'Ralston Personnel Consultants'. I think she wants to talk +to you about the replacement for George Fisher. You know, the one who +died." + +"Yes, yes, I know. And _you_ know, Miss Conway, we don't do business +through agencies." + +"Oh, Miss Ralston doesn't run an agency. She told me. Her business is +much more exclusive than that. She handles very highly specialized +people. That's the reason why ..." + +"I know. That's why you gave her an appointment with me," said the +exasperated personnel director. "Well, you can go right back out and +tell her I've canceled the appointment. This is a security job we're +filling and ..." + + * * * * * + +Before Harry could utter another syllable his attention was drawn to the +doorway. The view to the outer office was blocked by a bundle of curves. +The most alluring female bombshell his eyes had ever beheld put +everything important out of his mind. + +"I didn't realize you were being so inconvenienced, Mr. Payne. I'm +terribly sorry." Her eyes drooped. "I can take my business elsewhere." +Miss Ralston's voice was just above a half whisper. The words came out +warm and intoxicating. + +"No, wait! Wait a minute, Miss Ralston." Harry was out of his chair and +at the door. He took her arm. "Who said anything about inconvenience? +Come in. Come in. That'll be all, Miss Conway. Thanks." + +The secretary giggled and left. Miss Ralston sat down and lit a +cigarette. Harry noticed she was wearing a beige knit suit with a +neckline that spoke volumes. Every curve was in the right place. Every +movement had another movement all its own. + +Harry knew she was bound to talk business and he knew there wasn't much +he could do for her in that direction. But at thirty-five, and eligible, +he just couldn't let this woman leave his office. Harry Payne was a +sucker for a gorgeous face. He knew it and he knew the gorgeous face +knew it. + +"Tell me, Miss Ralston, when did my secretary arrange this appointment +for you?" + +"I called yesterday." + +Harry arched his eyebrows and smiled. "Yesterday? What prompted you to +call me?" + +"You're looking for a laboratory technician, aren't you?" + +"What gave you that idea?" he asked, not caring in the slightest what +gave it to her. + +"I make it my business to comb the papers every day, Mr. Payne. I came +across the news of George Fisher's suicide and called you. Simple as +that." + +"You don't waste any time." + +She smiled and pursed her lips. "Do you?" + +"I try not to." + +"I have seven clients who would qualify for the job. I'd appreciate it +if you'd see them." + +"Well, as a matter of fact, Miss Ralston ..." + +She leaned forward with an inquisitive "Yes?" + +Harry cleared his throat. "As a matter of fact I'm not supposed to do +business with civilian agencies." + +"Mr. Payne," she smiled demurely, "do I look like an agency? Or do I +look like a Personnel Consultant?" + + * * * * * + +Now there was an opening, Harry thought, but it might be best to avoid +it. "You're working to get someone a job. It amounts to the same thing." + +"I see. Then how _do_ you go about hiring your new personnel?" + +"I do the soliciting myself. Sorry, Miss Ralston, but I don't make the +rules and regulations." + +But the lady was undeterred. She crossed her legs and sank further into +the easy chair. Her eyes sparkled at Harry. + +"These clients of mine are all top men, Mr. Payne. Why couldn't I just +leave you their names? You can still do the soliciting. I'd be happy to +forego my regular commission on this job. Call it the value of +prestige." + +Harry recognized another opening and this time plunged in. "Suppose we +talk it over later. There's a place at Fourth Avenue and Woodward called +'Maria's.' Best Italian food in captivity. I'm through at five. What +about you?" + +She didn't have to say anything. Her eyes told him he would be having +an Italian dinner that night. And not alone. She rose and walked in +front of his desk. + +"I'm so glad we have something in common, Mr. Payne. I can't think well +on an empty stomach either." + +After walking her to the outer office he came back to his desk. He took +a deep breath and loosened his tie. Dreams like Miss Ralston didn't +materialize every day. For a first meeting he figured he hadn't fared +too badly at all. And if this first date went well he was sure he'd be +seeing a lot of this girl. + +It did not escape Harry's mind that here was a girl who was in the habit +of getting what she wanted. But why not? Her powers of persuasion were +Grade-A. They were so good they presented him with one big problem. He +had regulations. Army regulations. He couldn't violate them. Miss +Ralston, it was obvious, was going to meet him solely for the purpose of +getting a client a job. Would he be able to see her again after she knew +he had no intention of hiring that client? + + * * * * * + +The following morning Harry entered the office to find his secretary +unusually busy. She was pecking away furiously at the typewriter. + +He handed her a sheet of paper and said, "Miss Conway, copy these names +and addresses and when they ..." + +"When they come in you'll see them at half-hour intervals." She smiled +benignly. "Miss Ralston just called and told me. Pretty smart chick, +huh, boss?" + +Harry did a slow burn and ambled into his office. Miss Conway was right, +of course, and that's what annoyed him. It had been quite a night. He +wined and dined her. They did all the bright spots. And, wonder of +wonders, on the first date they wound up at Paula Ralston's apartment. +She was a captivating hostess, an exquisite dancer and something of a +sorceress. After one kiss, an unforgettable one, Harry had agreed to +interview her seven clients. + +But all this was last night, Harry reminded himself. Today was a +different matter. He was in the sanctity of his office now and capable +of clearer thinking. Paula Ralston had accomplished the first phase of +her mission. The next move was his. _Seeing_ the clients, he +rationalized, was not violating the regulations. And for the moment it +satisfied her. + +She certainly was a determined girl. Anyone would think, watching her +operate, that a lab technician was a job of world-shaking importance. +What the hell, he shrugged, if the girl didn't look out for her own +interests, she wouldn't have a successful business. There's only one way +to keep clients happy and that's to keep them busy. + +Besides, her maneuvering wasn't going to work anyway. He just couldn't +hire any of them. His problem now was to stall her for a couple of days +so he could keep seeing her. In the end he might possibly tell her the +army had refused to accept any of them. + +He glanced out the window and saw the Weapons Development Center across +the parade ground. Business appeared to be going on as usual. Routine. +Quiet. Cautious. _High time I start thinking seriously about that +replacement_, he thought. + +There was a knock at the door. + +"Come in." + +Miss Conway bounced in. "They've started to arrive. The first one is a +Mister Thompson." + +"Okay, let's get started. Send him in." + + * * * * * + +Thompson was a small, roundish man in his mid-forties. He remained quite +at ease during the interview. Harry began the session in the usual dull +manner, formulating his questions from the several sheets of information +Mr. Thompson had brought with him. + +It wasn't long before Harry detected something unusual about the man. +But he couldn't determine what it was. He became more alert, more +interested as the interview progressed. + +"Where are you from originally, Mr. Thompson?" + +"Chicago." + +"Oh, yes." He glanced at the written information. "I see you went to the +University." + +"Yes, sir. My practical experience is documented on the second sheet." + +What was it about this guy? He was overly polite but that could hardly +be considered strange. His answers were brief, to the point, even curt. +That was just a personality trait, Harry supposed. Couldn't condemn a +man for that. + +"How long did you live in Chicago?" + +"Twenty-one years, sir." + +"Are you married?" + +"No, sir." + +He had noted before that Mr. Thompson had a distracting habit of patting +his hair. Now he knew why. He was wearing a toupee. Harry wondered if +the poor guy was sensitive about it. If he _was_ that conscious of it, +it might account for his strange attitude. + +"Thank you for coming in, Mr. Thompson. I'll submit your papers to +Colonel Waters. If he has any further interest in you, don't be +surprised if you receive a visit from a couple of Intelligence agents. +That's routine for this job. I just tell you in advance so you won't +worry." + +"I understand," he said, rising and checking his toupee once more. "Many +thanks to you, sir." He shook Harry's hand and left the room. + +Harry glanced at the papers again. Mr. Thompson's background was +impressive indeed. There didn't seem to be much question as to his +ability. But what a queer duck he was! + +The second applicant was a short, wiry man named Chase. Like his +predecessor, he was brief and to the point with his answers. He let his +qualification papers speak for themselves. He was formal and polite. + +Midway through the interview Harry noticed that he too was wearing a +toupee. If that wasn't the damnedest coincidence! Fortunately Mr. Chase +didn't have the annoying habit of patting his head every thirty seconds. +Harry guessed he either had a more expensive one or was just endowed +with more confidence that it would not slip off. + +The interview over, Mr. Chase offered his thanks and strolled out. + +Harry had a few moments to himself before Paula's third client arrived. +He thought about the first two men. Funny thing about toupees ... even +the most expensive ones could always be detected. He couldn't quite +understand why the two men wore them. They were often used by playboys, +actors, self-styled over-age Romeos, people whose niche in society +depends upon their looks. But not scientists or technicians. In fact +Harry couldn't remember ever having known one such person who shunned +his baldness in this manner. That didn't mean they had no right. But it +did seem peculiar as hell. + + * * * * * + +By the time the third interview was over Harry Payne's curiosity was +ablaze. Applicant number three, Mr. Boles, was not only wearing a toupee +but had gone one step further. Just north of his mouth there was a +mustache! A good-looking mustache, well groomed and shaped, but phoney +as a wax banana. + +For a moment he thought Paula Ralston might be perpetrating a joke of +elaborate proportions. He rejected the idea as fast as it came to him. +He didn't know the girl very well yet, but he knew her well enough to +know she was strictly business. _She wanted one of these men to get that +job._ + +He flipped the intercom button for Miss Conway. She might be able to +tell him ... indirectly. + +"You wanted me, Mr. Payne?" + +"Yes, Miss Conway. The three men who've already been in here ... have +you noticed anything strange about them?" + +Her eyebrows merged and spelled perplexity. She pursed her lips and gave +the matter the gravest consideration. Then she concluded, "Yes, +something very strange." + +Harry was hopeful. "What was it?" + +"None of them did very much talking. Strictly anti-social types." + +Harry groaned, realizing he should have known better. "Thank you, Miss +Conway. That's all." + +"The fourth guy is waiting outside." + +"Let him sit for a couple of minutes, then send him in." + +He decided to put the whole matter out of his mind and get the +interviews over as fast as possible. There were other, more serious +duties to attend to. The toupee episode was probably nothing more than a +crazy coincidence anyway. Strictly an item for Believe-It-Or-Not. + + * * * * * + +By two o'clock that afternoon the four remaining candidates had come and +gone. And Harry Payne sat at his desk in the immediate aftermath +questioning his sanity. All seven men wore toupees! It was incredible +but true. And now the matter was one of deep and abiding concern to him. +There was nothing funny about it. There was a touch of the macabre in it +that rendered his flesh cold and weak. + +He lit a cigarette and tried to pull his thoughts together. Seven men +applying for the same job; seven men with one thing in common; seven men +as bald as Doctor Cyclops. Harry had to abandon the notion that sheer +coincidence brought these men together. That was too fantastic. They +were brought together by design. + +Their backgrounds varied in that they had all worked and come from +different parts of the country. But those facts were only on paper. It +was an odds-on bet they all knew each other. There was even something +about the order in which they arrived at the office that indicated a +pattern or an over-all plan. Numbers three, five and six had worn false +mustaches. + +If it was true the seven men were well acquainted then Paula Ralston +could undoubtedly give him some answers. Harry had another dinner +engagement with her at five o'clock. But this date, he told himself, +would be different. _He_ was going to be all business until he learned +exactly what she was involved in. + +He picked up the phone, got an outside line and dialed. Frank Barnes was +a private detective. A good one. Harry was sure he could rely on him for +a small favor. + +A subdued, resonant voice answered on the other end. + +"Frank, Harry Payne here." + +"Harry! Where you been hiding?" + +"I need a favor." + +"Only time you ever call me, you ingrate." + +"There's a dame called Paula Ralston. Runs a business called Ralston +Personnel Consultants. How soon can you get anything on her?" + +"How soon do you need it?" + +"Today, if possible. You can call me at home. Any hour." + +After promising Frank to meet him for lunch one day Harry sank into an +easy chair and tried to shake the unnerving effect the seven men had had +on him. + +Maybe he shouldn't have called Frank. This might be something he should +have informed the army about. No. They'd want to know what business he +had seeing the seven men in the first place. He didn't have much of an +answer for that one. + + * * * * * + +Driving along Woodward Street toward Fourth Avenue, Harry was beset with +one nagging question. Why had Paula Ralston never brought any of her +clients to see him before? He was the dispenser of over a hundred good +jobs that offered high salaries. The answer was just as persistent as +the question. _Lab Technician was the only security job he handled._ She +was determined that one of her men get that job at any cost. + +It wasn't a very pleasant thought. Harry didn't want to believe it. He +didn't want to believe that Paula Ralston was going to mean trouble for +him. And yet he knew that's exactly what she meant. + + * * * * * + +She was waiting for him at Maria's. She kissed him as he slipped into +the booth beside her. Through four drinks and a six-course dinner he +watched her smile. That smile could melt down the door on a bank vault. +He noticed how she laughed at all of his wisecracks. When it was her +turn to talk she talked about him. She offered a toast to their closer +friendship, with special emphasis on the word "closer." + +But she did not mention the seven men. That was the smart approach, +Harry ventured. She'd save that until she got home and slipped into +something more comfortable. + + * * * * * + +He stood alone in Paula's living room nursing a scotch on the rocks. The +night before he had been too concerned about his progress with this +latter-day Aphrodite to give a damn about the place she lived in. He +glanced around the room. Every inch reeked of success. The furniture was +sleek, modern, exquisitely contoured ... like its owner. There wasn't +much question about it, Paula Ralston made a lot more dough than he did. +But how? That was the question. + +She came out of the bedroom and mixed herself a drink. She was a living +dream in a black lace negligee. Transparent. It figured. A lot of things +were beginning to figure. + +"Shall I tell you a secret?" she asked. + +"I didn't think you had any left." He couldn't take his eyes from the +negligee. + +"I think Mr. Chase and Mr. Boles are the best of the seven. I think they +come closest to what you're looking for." She lifted her glass and +clinked it against his. + +Harry smiled. He wasn't looking at her anymore. It was more of an +education to look through her. She was good. Damn good. She could lull +you into believing the Grand Canyon was brimming over with silver +dollars, all yours for the taking. It was next to impossible to doubt +the sincerity in her face. + +"I liked all seven of them," he said. "But since you know them better +than I do I'll take your recommendation that Chase and Boles are the +best." + +She moved closer to him. He could feel the warmth of her body. + +"We're making some progress, Harry. We've narrowed the field down to two +candidates." + +Harry kept her maneuvering. "Paula, I'm still faced with the problem of +finding a way around the regulations. I can't hire either one of them +until I solve that." + +Nothing stopped this girl. Nothing even slowed her down. She moved still +closer to him. "There's a way around anything if a man has the right +incentive to look for it." + +He knew what the right incentive was. He didn't have to go looking for +that. He laid his drink down, put his arms around her and kissed her. +They walked to the sofa. Paula stayed close to him, the ever thoughtful, +loving female companion. She rubbed his back and neck and sprinkled him +with soft moist kisses. She never mentioned her clients again. And Harry +promised to hire one of them the following day. + + * * * * * + +He was anxious to get back to his apartment to find out if Frank Barnes +had called. As he drove back along Woodward Street he couldn't put Paula +out of his mind. He already had her character pegged. But what was she +up to? What was her goal? She wasn't doing all this for a lousy +commission. The stakes were bigger than that. + +In a way it was too bad she was going to have to settle for less than +she bargained for. If her seven clients hadn't been so phoney she might +have gotten away with it. But why was it necessary for them to be +phoney? Why should a girl as shrewd as Paula send seven men in disguise +to see ... + +Disguise! Somehow that word threw a different light on the matter. The +men had all been disguised in places where hair should grow. They were +_not_ bald. There was something abnormal about them. And Harry was +ninety percent certain what it was. The answer was incredible. There was +still a ten-percent margin for error. For Miss Paula Ralston's sake he +hoped he was wrong. + + * * * * * + +Frank Barnes' message was waiting for him at the switchboard in the +lobby. The word "urgent" was written on it. + +He raced upstairs and picked up the phone. Frank answered on the first +ring. He sounded like a man with a gun at his back. + +"Harry, what the hell kind of a mess have you gotten yourself into?" + +"Why? Something go wrong?" + +"You bet your sweet life. An hour after you called me to check on that +Ralston dame a guy came into the office and told me to lay off." + +Harry was silent. And scared. His answer looked better all the time. + +"What did the guy look like?" + +"He looked important, Harry. And he meant business. He had a big bulge +in his pocket and he made it very clear I'd be up to my funny bone in +hot lead if I relayed any information about this girl to you." + +"Frank, was the guy wearing a toupee?" + +"A what?" + +"A toupee, a hair piece!" + +"How the hell should I know. I wasn't interested in his coiffure. He was +wearing a black overcoat, he kept his hand on that bulge and he didn't +care much for smiling. Harry, you in trouble with this dame?" + +"What did you find out about her, Frank?" + +"Between the time you called and the time the guy strolled into the +office I found out she's only had this Personnel Consultant racket for +about three months." + +"You didn't learn anything else?" + +"After I got warned I decided to wait'll I talked with you." + +Harry was silent again. His mind was working. + +"Frank, what causes baldness?" + +"Baldness! Geez, Harry, you're in a fat mess of trouble and you're +worrying about losing your hair?" + +"It's important, Frank. I must find out what causes total loss of _all_ +hair." + +The detective grunted. "Well, let's see, there are three or four +diseases I know of. Some people claim it's hereditary. Sometimes a +deficiency in the genes ..." + +"Okay, Frank, that's enough." + +"What do you want me to do about the girl?" + +"Just as the man told you. Lay off. I'll call you tomorrow and let you +know what this thing is all about." + +He hung up the phone and paced in front of his sofa for several minutes. +It was inconceivable that the seven men all had the same disease, the +same gene deficiency or the same hereditary shortcomings. So his own +answer must be much closer to the truth. He'd have to wait until morning +to put it to a test. If he was right he would call Colonel Waters and +dump the whole bizarre set-up right into the army's lap where it +belonged. + +Again he found himself hoping he was not right, and, more important, +that Paula Ralston wasn't what he was beginning to think she was. + + * * * * * + +Miss Conway was already in when Harry arrived at the office. He managed +a half smile for her. + +"Miss Conway, two of the seven men are coming back this morning and ..." + +"And Mr. Boles is the one who's getting the job." + +"Who called you this time?" he asked with exasperation. + +"Colonel Waters." + +Harry's stomach muscles contracted. "Colonel Waters?" + +"That's right. When you were gone yesterday the colonel dropped in to +see you. He asked me if you were working on the replacement for George +Fisher ... I told him you were right on the job. And I showed him the +information sheets you had on all seven men." + +"You did what!!" + +"And Colonel Waters liked the man named Boles best of all. So I guess +when Mr. Boles comes in you can tell him the job is his." + +"You nitwit!" he bellowed. "You brainless, knuckleheaded ..." He stomped +into his office, and slammed the door. + +It was difficult for him to think clearly. He knew he had to make a +move. And fast. + +He stood by the window and gazed at the Weapons Development Center +across the parade ground. The low gray buildings had a quiet peaceful +aura about them. If it weren't for the guards marching in front of the +great wire fences anyone might think the place was used for +manufacturing can-openers, automobile parts, any one of a thousand +harmless products. + +But it wasn't. Weapons Development represented a vital link in the +country's defense program. He no longer figured they were developing a +weapon to counteract Soviet aggression. They were working on something +far more important. He was just ninety percent sure of that. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Boles was the first to arrive. He sat in an easy chair which Harry +had moved close to his desk in order to better observe the man. + +"Mr. Boles, my secretary tells me Colonel Waters was looking at your +qualifications yesterday and was very impressed. I gather from that that +the job is yours." + +"Thank you, sir." + +Harry shoved his chair closer to him. The toupee was intact. So was the +mustache. + +"Now it'll take the government about two weeks to complete a security +check-up." + +He could see plainly now that the man was also wearing false eyebrows +and had no beard. That did it. + +"I understand, sir," Boles replied. + +"So all I can tell you at the moment is that you'll be hearing from us +as soon as possible." Harry got up thinking the interview was over. + +Mr. Boles remained seated. + +"Miss Ralston would like to see you, Mr. Payne." + +"Oh, yes," Harry chuckled, "I'm going to see her this evening." + +"She wants to see you now." + +"Afraid I can't make it right now. I have a pile of work to do. Besides +I'm expecting another client of hers. Have to let him know he didn't get +the job." + +"Mr. Chase is waiting for us downstairs in the car. You will come with +me, Mr. Payne." The order was clear and firm. + +Harry didn't like it. "I don't get it. What's so important that Miss +Ralston has to see me ..." + +He stopped at the sight of the gun leveled at his chest. + +"When we pass your secretary's desk, you will tell her you are taking an +early lunch. I will return you in an hour if you cooperate." + +Harry Payne knew better than to argue. + + * * * * * + +Mr. Chase was seated behind the wheel of a blue sedan. Boles and Harry +climbed into the back seat. They drove away from Fort Dickson toward the +city. + +The two men remained silent during the trip. Harry had plenty of time to +think. Why this sudden move of Paula's? He must have done something to +motivate it. But what? + +The only person he had talked to was Frank Barnes and he hadn't divulged +anything to him. She couldn't be sore because he had asked Frank to +check on her. Routine investigation was part of his job. She knew that. +He failed to come up with an answer. He was worried. He knew who the +seven men were but he didn't know where they came from. It could have +been any one of a million different places. Heaven only knew what kind +of people they were. + +The shades were drawn in Paula's apartment. There was no sign of her. +But as soon as Harry entered the room he forgot about her anyway. His +gaze rested upon the small, roundish man sitting in the contour chair, +the bald man with no eyebrows and no beard. + +"Please be seated, Mr. Payne." The man's tone was soft and courteous. + +"Which one are you?" Harry asked. + +The man was amused. "I am Mr. Thompson." + +"Oh, yeah," said Harry, "you're the one who kept patting your skull. +Couldn't you find one that fit you?" + +Nobody was amused. Boles and Chase took positions on either side of +Thompson. Their faces were drawn and sober. They resembled two bankrupt +morticians. + +"Where is the body beautiful?" Harry asked. "Or is she no longer the +body beautiful?" + +"Take a look for yourself." It was Paula's voice. The familiar +sultriness was missing. + +Harry swung around to see her emerge from the bedroom. "Well, well, +well! If it isn't Miss Lonelyhearts. Mind if I ask why I'm here? I mean +the gun and all?" + +He had to be flippant. It was the only way he knew to conceal the terror +he felt in their presence. + +She sat beside him on the sofa. "Harry, you've disappointed me. You +haven't been playing the game fair and square." + +"If you're referring to the private eye I put on you ..." + +"I'm _not_, Harry. You put him on, we took him off. Those things even +themselves out." + +Harry shrugged. "Okay, I give up. What did I do wrong?" + +"Show him, Mr. Thompson." She lit a cigarette and folded her legs under +her. + +Mr. Thompson reached into his pocket and produced a small object. He +tossed it into Harry's lap. Harry examined it. + +"Do you recognize it?" Mr. Thompson asked. + +"It's a microphone," Harry replied. + +"That's just what it is." Paula savagely flung her cigarette to the +floor. Her own disguise, the one concealing her true, ruthless self, was +gone. Her voice was cold and harsh. "How much do you know, Harry? How +much?" + +Harry folded his hands, rested his full weight on the arm of the sofa +and crossed his legs. "How much is it worth to you?" + +Paula's hand struck with fury across his face. His cheek went numb. +Blood ran from an uneven gash left by the diamond in her ring. He took +out his handkerchief and dabbed at the wound. + +"You're real high class, aren't you, Paula? They don't make traitors as +high class as you anymore." + +She raised her hand and aimed for the other cheek. Thompson bolted out +of his chair and grabbed her. + +"I suggest you have a drink, Miss Ralston. Let us handle the rest." + +Paula was furious. "He's not going to tell you anymore ..." + +"We'll handle the rest!!" + + * * * * * + +Thompson didn't raise his voice. But there was a firmness, a deadly +conviction in his inflection. Paula went for a drink. + +Harry didn't like that. Paula had a temper. He could deal with her. But +the others ... they displayed very little emotion. He had no idea how to +handle them. + +Thompson sat down again facing Harry. + +"The fact is," he began gracefully, "we discovered this microphone and +four others like it here in Miss Ralston's apartment. One in each room. +Now we are very cautious people, Mr. Payne. We are quite certain no one +knows our whereabouts. It is logical then that the microphones have not +been here long. Miss Ralston's only visitors are ourselves and you. You +have known her two days. So you are the only person who knows this +apartment well enough to have planted these tell-tale devices in a +hurry." + +"Why should I want to plant them?" + +"You took the trouble to have Miss Ralston investigated. But more than +one means of investigation produces better results. The microphones were +wired to a small radio which we located in the basement of this +building. We have assumed that everything spoken into them was +transmitted over the radio and recorded at your end. That makes sense, +doesn't it?" + +Harry was confused. "So far, so good." + +"We want those recordings, Mr. Payne." + +They seemed to be convinced the microphones were his. Only Harry knew it +wasn't true. But to admit it might mean he wouldn't leave Paula's place +alive. He derived no comfort from the knowledge that someone else was +interested in Paula's activities. That wasn't helping him with his +problem of the moment. He could see no clear way out. He had to keep +stalling. And as long as they were so sure of themselves it might even +be to his advantage to maintain a certain arrogance. + +"I might as well tell you, Thompson, I have no intention of cooperating +until I know a few facts about you and your friends. Like who you are, +where you're from, what you're after ..." + +"It is not necessary, in order to tell us where the recordings are," +smiled Mr. Thompson, "that you know anything more about us." + +"It isn't necessary," said Harry, "but I want to know." + +Chase started to voice an objection but Harry broke in. + +"And don't tell me you have more persuasive ways of making me talk. You +can use force but it'll take time. Your time is valuable or you wouldn't +have hustled me over here as fast as you did. So let's _not_ waste your +time. You tell me, then I'll tell you." + +Thompson glanced at his two compatriots. Their faces registered +dissatisfaction. Their silence said that Harry was right. Time was +valuable. They would follow the path of least resistance. + +"Our point of origin," Mr. Thompson began, "is Correylla, roughly +seven-eighths the size of Earth, in the Syrybic Galaxy. It is +approximately ... in your figures ... seventy-five trillion miles +distant." + +"Must be quite a trip." Harry tried to be placid. + +Mr. Thompson was momentarily amused. "Travel through Time and Space is +something we take for granted. The farthest corners of the Universe are +ours for the reaching. That is the foremost reason for our visit to your +Earth. You might call us Galactic Observers. You see, we already control +the twelve inhabited planets in our own Galaxy. And at this time we have +no desire to take on any more responsibility than that. But neither do +we want interference from another Galaxy ... such as this one!" + + * * * * * + +Harry was surprised. "You're giving this world a lot of credit. We've +barely moved off the Earth. What makes you think we could cause your +people any trouble?" + +"By merely projecting yourselves into space you have eliminated the +major obstacle to space travel. Remember it took thousands of years for +someone on your Earth to discover electricity. But observe the wonders +you have accomplished with it in the relatively few years _since_ it was +discovered. The same principle applies to your conquest of space. We are +not here to do you harm, Mr. Payne. It is merely our intention to warn +you, when the time comes, of the dangers you face should you decide to +venture too far." + +"For people who intend no harm I'd say you and your friends are putting +on quite an unconvincing show." + +"I assure you, Mr. Payne, our visit to Earth was intended purely for +observational purposes!" + +"What do you mean, _was_?" + + * * * * * + +Thompson's face was grim. The easy chair that had accommodated his +small, roundish frame so perfectly now appeared to be uncomfortable for +him. A redness crept into his cheeks and spread over his smooth, tight +scalp. + +"The fact is that your government has known about us for six months. Our +exact whereabouts has been a well guarded secret ... but they _were +informed_ of our presence here on Earth." + +"Informed! But who could tell them ..." + +Chase broke in impatiently. "We are wasting time! We must get those +recordings!" + +The interruption was dismissed with a wave of Thompson's hand. + +"Your government was informed by George Fisher." + +"George Fisher!" Harry gulped. + +"You see, Mr. Fisher ... that wasn't really his name, you understand ... +was one of us ... a member of our observation team. After we arrived +here ... well, you might say he defected, gave your government the +benefit of his somewhat limited knowledge." + +Harry whistled. "And because of him your mission is no longer +observational." + +"That remains to be seen." + +Harry leaned forward on the sofa. "You have any ideas, Mr. Thompson, +about why he defected? I'm curious to know why a man is unhappy enough +with his own lot to run away and put himself in the hands of a +civilization that is in every way alien to him." + +Thompson's answer was brief and deliberately ambiguous. "Mr. Fisher was +a traitor. What more can be said of him?" + +"So he didn't commit suicide," Harry muttered. + +"That's right, Mr. Payne." + +"I take it you're not sure of how much Fisher told the government before +you got to him." + +"Mr. Fisher's limitations were familiar to us. It is the potential of +your own scientists now that they have his information that we are most +concerned with." + +Keep stalling, Harry reminded himself ... keep speculating, guessing, +theorizing, anything for time. + +"So you know the project that Weapons Development is working on but you +don't know how much progress has been made. And you want to place one of +your own people in there to find out." + +"Thanks to you, we have succeeded in doing just that." Thompson smiled +with satisfaction, having kept his part of a bargain. "Now about those +recordings...." + +"I'm not through asking questions." + +"But I'm through answering them, Mr. Payne. Tell us where the recordings +are." + + * * * * * + +Harry studied the clean, smooth surface of Thompson's face. There was a +gentleness in his large, round eyes. There was also an unfriendliness. +Harry had to keep stalling. He knew any answer he gave them would +shorten his life expectancy by about thirty-five years. + +"You've gotten me into a mess of trouble, Mr. Thompson. I think you owe +me a little more. My memory might prove clearer if I knew what was going +on at Weapons Development." + +Thompson glanced at his two companions. They showed no sign of dissent. + +"Very well, Mr. Payne. For some years now our people have been working +on a method of reversing the polarity of the atom. We have tried to +create an electro-magnetic field which would repel rather than attract. +Once we are able to accomplish this we can develop an instrument capable +of disturbing the molecular structure of any object in the universe." + +"In other words ..." Harry frowned at him, "a weapon capable of +disintegration?" + +"Precisely!" + +Harry sat there, stunned. A few moments seemed hardly enough to digest +the knowledge that Weapons Development was working on the most +incredibly advanced weapon of all time. And Mr. Thompson and company +were out to sabotage it. Their people could not afford to allow another +world to beat them to the punch. Who controlled this weapon controlled +the universe. Stalling the aliens was more important than ever now. He +couldn't heighten the danger to his own life. It wasn't worth a lead +nickel anyway. If it had been, Thompson wouldn't have consented to tell +him this much. + +Someone else had wired Paula's apartment. It was reasonable to assume it +was someone on his side. + +"The recordings, please!!" Boles was becoming very impatient. + +Harry looked up and found a gun at his head. "The recordings are at my +office," he lied. + +Thompson walked to the telephone table and brought the instrument to +him. "You will call your secretary," he said, "and tell her you have +been detained at lunch. You are sending Mr. Chase to pick up the +recordings." + +Harry glanced around the room. Paula was sulking at the bar near the +door. Drowning her conscience, he thought. They must have paid her a +fortune to sell out her own people. Boles and Chase both had their guns +poised. Thompson picked up the receiver and extended it to him. + +There was no way out, no stalling them any longer. To make a break for +it would be suicidal. In the state of confusion his mind was in, he +could think of only one thing to do. When he reached Miss Conway, he +would have to warn her somehow--a few desperate words and pray that she +would be alert enough to realize he was in trouble and get the +information to the authorities. + + * * * * * + +He took the phone and dialed. He gave the Fort Dickson operator his +office extension. He waited. The phone rang. It rang again. Then three +more times. Damn that girl! Her coffee breaks were extended vacations! + +Finally the phone was picked up. But the voice that answered was male. + +"Who is this?" Harry demanded. + +The voice replied, "Colonel Waters." + +"This is Harry. I'm at Paula Ralston's apartment ... emergency...!" + +The three men were on top of him. Chase smashed the butt of his gun +across Harry's knuckles. The receiver fell to the floor. Harry let out a +pained groan as Boles' gun butt struck him on the temple. Thompson +replaced the receiver. Harry was on the floor. He put his hands to his +head for protection as Chase savagely kicked at him. His vision blurred +but he managed to see that Paula was still at the bar sipping a drink, +sadistically enjoying the whole show. + +"He's no longer any use to us," Thompson declared. "You may do your +job!" + +Harry shook his head, fighting to stay conscious. His vision cleared +long enough to see Chase and Boles standing over him, their guns pointed +at either side of his head. + +There was a volley of deafening shots. There was smoke, voices, people +running in every direction. More gunfire. Glass shattering. Furniture +knocked over. + +But Harry felt no pain. + +When he looked again Chase and Boles were no longer to be seen. He +caught a glimpse of Thompson running for another position of cover. A +final gunshot brought him to the floor. + +Harry struggled to a sitting position. Then he saw Chase and Boles dead +on the floor beyond the sofa. Half a dozen soldiers were in the process +of subduing a swearing, clawing Paula Ralston. + +And in the doorway he saw Miss Conway. + +She looked incongruous as hell with a smouldering revolver in her hand. +She crossed the room and knelt beside him. She pulled him around to let +his head rest on the sofa. + +"Harry! Harry," she whispered, brushing his hair back, "are you hurt +badly? What did they do to you?" + +He tried to get up. + +"You stay right where you are, honey." Her voice was soothing and +gentle. There was a soft, compassionate light in her eyes. No longer +that dumb stare. She leaned over and kissed him. "There. You're going to +be all right." + +"What the hell are you doing here?" Harry bellowed. + +"Now you just sit back and relax. I'm just doing my job." + +"Your jo ..." A low steady wail rolled off his lips. "Oh, no! Say it +isn't so. Tell me I'm really dead. I know I deserve to be." + +"I may be the world's lousiest secretary, but I'm considered not bad in +the counter-intelligence department." + +Harry repeated the wail. + +"We were afraid from the time George Fisher turned himself over to the +government," she continued, "that his days were numbered. But the longer +he remained alive the more apprehensive his people would become. We +figured one day they'd make a wrong move. And that would be their big +mistake. Well, their move was to kill George Fisher and try to get one +of their own agents into Weapons Development. That meant exposing +themselves. It also meant you had to be watched ... among others. That's +where I came in." + +"And playing it about as dumb as I've ever seen." + +She laughed. "Sounds like I played the part a little too convincingly." + +She stood up and helped him to his feet. "You're coming with me." + +"Where to? Hey, what are you doing?" + +"There's something about this place that I don't like. I'm no sultry +brunette, but I'm not a dumb blonde either." She kissed him, then took a +last look at Paula's place and led him out the door. + + THE END + + + + +Transcriber's Note: + + This etext was produced from _Amazing Stories_ November 1959. + Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. + copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and + typographical errors have been corrected without note. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Observers, by G. L. 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