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diff --git a/31123.txt b/31123.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad94b85 --- /dev/null +++ b/31123.txt @@ -0,0 +1,1580 @@ +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: 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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