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don’t know.”
“How long until the invasion?”
“I don’t know that either. I don’t know whether or not I can find out from Walt. I doubt if he has enough information to tell me. Very soon now. Less than a month. Maybe even tomorrow.”
“There’s no time, then,” he said. He chewed his lip. “I see . . . . The Air Force still has its saucer files. I’m going to refer you to it.”
“We haven’t much time. Remember that.”
The F.B.I. man looked at his watch. “There’s a plane to Washington in three hours. I’ll get you reservations on it. I’ll phone the head office there. There’ll be somebody from the Air Force to meet you.”
“I’ll leave at eight, is that right?”
“From the city airport. Just a minute. I’m going to assign a man to you. I don’t want anything happening between now and then.”
“I can look out for myself,” Julia said. “I’ll pick up my ticket and Walt’s at the reservation booth. ‘Bye.”
The F.B.I. man blinked his eyes. She had vanished. He got up and searched the office carefully. The door had not opened.
But she was gone.
Sweating, he went to the phone.
In less than two minutes, he was talking to Washington. When he recradled the phone, he was shaking. He took out his pipe, filled it, lit it, walked to the window.
He looked out at the twilight city. A lone star sparkled in the sky. He stared upwards.
“My God,” he said softly to himself.
He crossed to the teletype, switched the current on. He began typing his notes on it for the benefit of Washington.
*
Back in the hotel room, Julia released Walt. Free, he stood up uncertainly.
“I think you’ll help me,” she said levelly. “I disconnected the bridge in your mind; I’m going to leave it that way. I can’t afford not to. But am I right, Walt?”
“I’m not sure. I, I’ll have to see.”
“We’re going to fly to Washington tonight.”
“Washington?”
“The seat of the government. You clean up in the bathroom, now. But hurry. We’ll have to catch a plane out of here at eight o’clock. It’s after six.”
“All right.”
While she was waiting, she studied herself despairingly in the mirror. I look, she thought, like something the cat dug up.
When Walt came back, she took his arm possessively.
“I’m hungry,” he said.
“Oh?” Julia said. “We’ll have time to eat, I guess. I wish we didn’t have to eat hotel food, though. I’m a good cook.” She led Walt to the door. “You’ll see what I mean, if we can get this invasion stopped. I’m going to make you invisible, now.”
After they ate, Julia drove her car to the airport. The reservations were waiting. So was the F.B.I. man.
“I teletyped my report to them. They wanted me to accompany you.”
He introduced himself to Walt.
Walt shook his hand. Walt no longer recoiled from the touch of an earthling.
In the plane, the F.B.I. man ordered cocktails. Walt had never tasted alcohol before. It was an unpleasant taste. But once it was down, it was not objectionable.
He forced himself to drain the glass. He felt himself relaxing.
“Ugh,” he said.
The F.B.I. man ordered another round. Julia declined. Walt accepted.
Walt said, “I feel warm.”
The F.B.I. man kept glancing out the window of the plane, up at the stars. Clouds hung below; moonlight played over them.
Walt found that he was very . . . fond . . . of Julia. If only, he thought, she weren’t so damned superior!
The alcohol filtered through his body. The compartment of the airplane danced not unpleasantly. He longed to feel Julia very close to him. He wanted to reach out and touch her uncovered skin.
Faintly, far off, barely heard was the sound of the others talking.
He grew heavy and sleepy. He closed his eyes.
He awakened once, and Julia was not beside him. He moved his tongue. It felt fuzzy and thick.
He wanted Julia.
“Julia!” he cried.
“I’m just up here,” she called softly.
Disturbed passengers muttered their annoyance.
The stewardess came to Walt’s seat.
“I don’t want you!” Walt said. “Julia!” he shouted.
Julia came back to him.
“Sit down beside me,” he commanded. And when she did, he went promptly back to sleep.
*
It was after three o’clock Wednesday morning when their plane set down wheels on the Washington airport runway.
A sleepy-eyed Air Force colonel was waiting at the gate. The F.B.I. man approached him. “Here they are.”
“Okay.”
The colonel crossed to them. “You’re to come along with me.”
“All right.”
Walt shook his head to clear the sleep from his eyes.
They followed the colonel to the waiting, olive drab passenger car. The F.B.I. man had departed.
The colonel helped Julia in.
“We’ve got rooms for you downtown.”
“Whatever you’ve decided,” Julia said.
The colonel gave his driver the address.
Half an hour later, Julia and Walt and the colonel reached their destination.
“I must be a mess,” Julia apologized. “I haven’t had time to change clothes or anything.”
“I’ll order you some,” the colonel said.
They went immediately to the third floor.
“This is your room,” the colonel told Walt, opening the door.
“I want to stay with Julia,” Walt said.
“This is your room,” the colonel said stiffly. He signaled the guard lounging at the end of the corridor. The guard came.
“This is your man,” the colonel told the guard.
The guard nodded.
“He’s not to leave.”
Walt planted his feet. “I’m not—”
“Go on in, Walt,” Julia said.
Walt hesitated.
“Go on.”
Reluctantly, Walt entered the room. The guard pulled the door closed.
“You’re to come here,” the colonel said. He led the way.
Once in her room, he said, “I know you’re tired . . . .”
Julia realized that she