Chapter 4 Chapter two

"Have you seen the news recently?" the old man continued. I shake my head.What a silly question - I'm on vacation. "You should see it," he suggested. "There's a lot of interesting stuff in the news. Come on. Seventeen hours—" he said, looking at his watch, "—twenty-three minutes ago, An unknown craft has landed near Grinnell, Iowa. Model unknown. Roughly saucer-shaped, about a hundred and fifty feet in diameter. Source unknown, but—” "Have they figured out the trajectory of the ship?" I interjected. "They didn't." He paused for a while, "Here is a photo taken by the Beta space station after the flying saucer landed."

I look at the photo and pass it to Mary. The photo was not clear, the kind taken from a distance of five thousand miles.The big tree looks like lichen... the shadow of a cloud blocks the most critical part of the photo.A gray orb, possibly a saucer-shaped spaceship, or an oil storage tank.Or a reservoir. Mary handed over the photo.I said, "Looks like a field mission tent to me. What else do we know?" "Know nothing." "No idea! Seventeen hours later? The place should be full of agents, almost overflowing!" "Ah, yes. There were, two were there, and four more were sent. They didn't send back intelligence. I don't like losing agents, especially when nothing is found."

Until now, I haven't stopped to think about why the old man took the risk himself.It didn't look like a risk, but I suddenly realized that the situation must be very serious, and the old man was willing to use his wisdom to reduce the loss of the organization-because he was the department.No one who knew him doubted his courage, but neither did they doubt his common sense.He knows his worth and will not act recklessly unless he truly believes that the work is vital and needs to be handled with his own skill. I suddenly felt a pang of fear.Under normal circumstances, the agent has the responsibility to keep his own life, so that he can complete the task and send the information back.In this mission, the old man is the one who must return safely, followed by Mary.I am the third, expendable, worth a paper clip.I don't like that.

"An agent sent back a report, but not a complete report," the old man went on. "He was posing as a casual bystander. He reported over the phone. It was definitely a ship, but he couldn't be sure of the form of power. It didn't matter, it was on the news. He then reported that the ship was open, He was going to get a little closer, through the cordon. His last words were, 'They're coming, they're little creatures, about—' and the communication broke." "Little man?" "He said 'creatures.'" "Any surrounding reports?"

"Too much. The Des Moines Stereo TV reported the UFO landing and sent a mobile team to broadcast it live. The footage they sent was all from a distance, from the sky. The footage didn't tell anything, it was just a saucer Then, for about two hours, there was neither footage nor news, and only later did follow-up reports and new news highlights come." The old man kept his mouth shut.I said, "What did the follow-up report say?" "The whole thing was a hoax. The so-called 'spaceship' was made of sheet metal and plastic by two boys on the farm in the woods not far from home. It was a hoax. The false report came from an announcer. The man was humorous Too much sense, not enough judgment, he got the lads to make up the news. He got fired and this 'invasion of outer space' was a joke."

I moved my body restlessly. "It was a prank—but we've lost six. Are we looking for them?" "No, we're not going to find them. We're going to find out why the triangulation of this photo—" he held up the distant photo taken from the space station,"—doesn't exactly match the news reports. And , Why did the Des Moines stereo stop broadcasting for a while." Mary spoke for the first time: "I want to talk to those two farm boys." I drove five miles down the road on the Grinnell side, and we started looking for McClean Farm—news reports named the troublemakers: Vincent and George McClean.The place wasn't hard to find.There is a big sign at the fork in the road, which reads: leading to the spaceship.From the appearance of the sign, it is professionally made.Soon you can see various amphibious vehicles, ground vehicles and amphibious vehicles parked on both sides of the road.Around the corner of McLean's Farm are hastily erected kiosks selling cold drinks and gifts.A state trooper is directing traffic.

"Stop." The old man instructed, "Shall we also watch the excitement?" "That's right, Uncle Charlie," I agreed. The old man jumped out, his cane dangling in his hand, and it was almost impossible to see that he was crippled.I gave Mary a hand and helped her out.She clung to me, looked up at me, and acted like a stupid lady. "Good brother, you are really strong." I pretended to be complacent, but I wanted to slap her in the face.Her trick was called "Little Poor", and she was an agent, and it was done by the old man's agents.This is really pretending to be a pig and eating a tiger.

"Uncle Charlie" chatted excitedly around, annoyed the state troopers with ramblings, insisted on imposing his views on others, and then bought a few cigars at a kiosk.All in all, gives the impression of a rich fool out on vacation.He came back to us, waving his cigar at the trooper. "The inspector says it's all a farce, my dear—a prank the children have come up with. Shall we go?" Mary was a little disappointed, "No spaceship?" "There's a dirigible, if you want to call it that," said the policeman. "Follow those idiots and you'll see it. And it's 'Sheriff,' not 'Inspector.'" "Uncle Charlie" snapped Give him a cigar, and off we go.

Go through a meadow and into the woods.It costs a dollar to get in, so many would-be fools stop there and turn back. The path through the woods is deserted.I walked cautiously, wishing I had eyes on the back of my head instead of a phone.According to the briefing, six agents went down this road, and none of them came back.I don't want the number to be nine. Uncle Charlie and Sister walked ahead, and Mary babbled like a fool and somehow made herself appear shorter and smaller than when the journey began.We came to a clearing, and the "spaceship" was there. It's about the same size, over a hundred feet wide, made of thin metal and plastic panels sprayed with aluminum.Roughly the shape of two giant pastry pans snapped together.Other than that, it doesn't resemble anything else.But Mary screamed anyway, "Oh, that's exciting."

A young man of eighteen or nineteen, with pimples and indelible freckles on his face, poked his head out of a kind of hatch on the top of the monster. "Want to see inside?" he called. It was an extra fifty cents each to get in.Uncle Charlie paid. Mary hesitated at the hatch.Pimple lad sent her in with another lad who was like his twin.She drew back and I went in, fast.I don't want others to plug it in. Ninety-nine percent of this comes from my professional training.I can feel that this place is full of dangers. "It's so dark in there." Mary said in a trembling voice.

"It's very safe here," said the second chap. "We take tourists all day long. I'm Vince McCleith, owner of this thing. Come on ma'am." Uncle Zhabu looked in through the hatch like a cautious old hen. "There might be snakes in there," he said. "I don't think you'd better go in, Mary." "Nothing to be afraid of," insisted the first McClain. "It's as safe as home." "Keep the money, gentlemen." Uncle Charlie glanced at his watch. "Yo, we're getting late. Come on, honey." I followed them back to the trail, pissed off all the way. We got into the car together and I drove onto the road.After starting it, the old man asked sharply, "What did you see?" I asked back: "Do you have any doubts about the first report? The one that was interrupted?" "No." "That thing in the woods, an agent wouldn't be fooled, not even when it was dark. It wasn't the ship he saw." "Of course not. What else?" "How much do you think that dummy is worth? The sheet metal is new and the paint freshly painted. From what I can see from the hatch, there's probably a thousand feet or so of lumber left to hold it up. Fall down." "Go ahead." "Besides, the McClean house hasn't been painted in years, and there's no barn. There's a big 'for sale' smell to the place, you can smell it anywhere. If it's those two boys who did the trick, They're so poor they can't afford to pay that bill." "Obviously so. What do you see, Mary?" "Uncle Charlie, did you notice the way they treated me?" "Who?" I asked. "The state trooper and those two boys. Every time I do the 'sweet sexy little thing' thing it always works. Not this time." "They're very attentive," I objected. "You don't understand. You don't understand—but I know, I understand this kind of thing. Something's wrong with them. Their hearts are numb. Can you explain me? Like eunuchs." "Hypnotized?" the old man asked. "Maybe. Maybe the drug." She frowned, puzzled. "Well—" he said, "Sammy, turn left at the intersection ahead. We're going to investigate a place, two miles south." "Where is remote photo triangulation?" "Where else could it be?" But we didn't drive there.First a bridge had collapsed, and the place was so cramped there wasn't enough room for a car to jump across, even ignoring the trivialities of ground traffic regulations for two-door cars.We circled south and drove in again.It's the only other way besides the bridge.There's a policeman standing there and a detour sign.We stopped.A small fire, he told us.Going any further, we may well be called to fight fires.He didn't know what to do, and logically he should send me in as a volunteer firefighter. Marie showed him the long flickering eyelashes, among other things.He surrendered.She points out that neither she nor Uncle Charlie can drive: two lies in one sentence. After we left, I asked her, "How about this one?" "Did you say him?" "Eunuch?" "Oh, my God, no! A most attractive man." Her answer annoyed me. The old man is not allowed to fly into the sky and pass through the triangular location from the air.He said it was pointless to do so. We headed for Des Moines.Instead of parking at the tollbooth, we paid and drove into town, where we parked at the main studio of the Des Moines Stereo. "Uncle Charlie" stormed into the Prime Minister's office aggressively, and we followed closely behind him.He lied a few times—but maybe Charles M. Kavanaugh really is a big shot at the FRA.How would I know? After entering and closing the door, he continued to put on the airs of a senior official. "Tell me, sir, what the hell is going on with all this nonsense about the spaceship scam? Tell the truth, sir. I warn you, your license depends on your performance today." The manager, a short, round-shouldered man, didn't look intimidated, just a little distracted. "We've explained everything on the channel," he said. "We, too, were victims of an insider. That guy has been fired." "That's not enough, sir." The little man named Barnes shrugged, "What do you want? Can we still tie his two thumbs and hang him up?" Uncle Charlie pointed at him with the cigar in his hand, "I warn you, sir, I didn't just get hoodwinked. I've been looking into this myself. I don't believe it, two farm bumpkins, and a Little Announcer, can pull off such a ridiculous scam. There's money in it, sir, yes, sir—money. Money, where do I go to track it down? Upstairs, of course. Now tell me, sir, you in the end--" Mary sat next to Barnes's table.She made a slight change to her outfit to reveal more skin.Her pose reminds me of Goya's The Undressed Woman.She gave the old man a thumbs down sign. Barnes should have been invisible; his attention seemed to be on the Don.But he saw it.He turned to Mary, the expression on his face froze.His hand reaches for his desk. "Sam! Kill him!" snapped the old man. I broke his legs and his body fell to the floor.The shot was off the mark.I wanted to cum in his stomach. His fingers were still fumbling around, and I quickly stepped over and kicked the pistol away from his fingers.I was about to give him another shot to relieve his misery--a man burnt like this will never live, but he won't be dead for a while--the old man cried: "Hold him! Mary, stand up!" Further!" We did.The old man turned sideways, slowly approaching the corpse like a cat.Carefully inspecting something I don't know. Barnes let out a grunt of breath, and then remained motionless—broken to death.Gun burns don’t bleed a lot, not that much. The old man looked at him and poked his body lightly with his cane. "Boss," I said, "it's time to go." Without looking back, he said, "We're as safe here as we are anywhere else. Maybe even safer. They're in this building, packed." "What's crowded? Who are they?" "How do I know? Crowded with something like it, whatever it is." He pointed to Barnes' body. "That's what I have to find out for myself." Mary let out a sob.As far as I know, this is the first time she has shown real female emotion.She gasped, "Look, it's still breathing!" The body was face down, the back of the jacket rising and falling, as if the chest was breathing in and out.The old man looked at the body and poked it with his cane. "Sam, come here." I walk over. "Undress it," he said. "Put on gloves. Be careful." "Is there a booby trap on the body?" "Shut up. Pay attention." I don't know what he was trying to find out at the time, but he must have had a hunch that it was close to the truth.I guess the old man has a built-in synthesizer at the bottom of his brain that can deduce logical corollaries from trivial facts, like a museum guy can recreate an extinct animal from a bone. I do as I am told.Put on the gloves first—the gloves used by secret agents.Wearing these gloves, I can stir boiling acid with my hands and feel for the flip side of a coin in the dark.I started turning it over and undressing it. The back is still heaving; I don't like to see it - it's unnatural.I put my palm between the corpse's shoulder blades. The human back is made up of bones and muscles.But the thing was as soft as jelly, still vibrating.I withdrew my hand sharply. Without saying a word, Mary took a pair of beautiful scissors from the Barnes desk and handed them to me.I took the scissors, cut the blouse, and pulled it away. We look at the cut parts.Only a thin shirt was worn under the top, which was almost see-through.There is something, between the shirt and the skin.Half way from the neck to the back.Not muscles.A few inches thick, giving the corpse a rounded, or somewhat stooped, shoulder. It throbs like a jellyfish. As we watched, the thing slid down its back out of sight. I reached out to peel off the shirt to get a better look.The old man's cane knocked my hand away. "Make up your mind." I said, rubbing my fingers. Without answering, he inserted the bottom end of his cane into the hem of his shirt and picked it up, revealing what was underneath. It is off-white and translucent, and the light penetrates in. It can be seen that the internal structure is darker in color, and it is hard to tell what shape it is-I think it looks like a pile of huge frog eggs coagulated together.The thing was clearly alive, it was pulsating, it was trembling, it was flowing.We watched as the stuff drained between Barnes' arms and chest, filled it up, and then couldn't go any further. "Poor guy." The old man said softly. "What? That thing?" "No. Barnes. Remind me to give him a Purple Heart when this is over. If it's ever over." The old man straightened up—limped up and down the room, seemingly oblivious to the pale, hideous mass in Barnes's arm. I stepped back a bit, and continued to stare at the thing, the pistol ready to fire.This thing doesn't move very fast, and obviously doesn't fly.But I can't tell what it can do, and I don't want to risk it.Mary moved closer to me, her shoulder against mine, as if wanting a little reassurance.I put my arms around her shoulders. On the side table was an untidy pile of cans, the kind that hold stereo tapes.The old man took a can with the show tape in it, dumped the tape on the floor, and came over with the can. "I think that'll do." He put the jar on the floor too, next to the thing, and started poking at it with his cane, trying to annoy the thing into crawling into the jar. But the thing squirmed, almost completely under the body.I grabbed the corpse's other arm and moved the rest of Barnes' body away.The thing clung to the corpse, and it took a while before it fell to the floor with a "poof".Following dear Uncle Charlie's instructions, Mary and I set the guns on minimum power and burned the floor next to the thing, forcing it into the jar. I finally got it in, and it was easy to fit, and I snapped the lid on with a snap. The old man put the can under his arm and said, "On the way, dear." On his way out, he shouted goodbye to Barnes by the ajar door, and after closing the door he stopped at Barnes' secretary's desk. "I have to see Mr. Barnes tomorrow," he told her. "No, no appointment. I'll call first." We came out, not going fast.The old man held the overfilled can under his arm, and I pricked up my ears alertly.Mary put on a foolish look and babbled and babbled. The old man also stopped in the hall to buy a cigar and ask for directions, like a good old man with a lot of talkativeness and self-importance. As soon as I got in the car, he pointed me where to drive and reminded me not to drive too fast. Follow the direction he pointed.We came to an auto repair shop. The old man called for the manager and said to him, "Mr. Malone wants the car--right now." It's a signal I've used occasionally in the past, but when I did, it was a Mr. Sheffield who was in a hurry.I knew the coupe would be gone in twenty minutes, an unearthed part in the parts box. The manager looked at us for a while, and then calmly shrank: "Go through that door." He pushed away the two repairing single workers in the room, and we walked through that door. When we got out, we were in an apartment that nominally belonged to an elderly couple.Here, Mary and I became dark haired, the old man went bald again, and I asked for a mustache, but it didn't change my appearance.I was surprised to find that Mary was just as beautiful with black hair. The "Kavanaugh" family is no more.Mary in a fashionable nurse's attire, I in a chauffeur's uniform, and the old man our frail old client, with a shawl and a good temper, and his new image was complete. We were just getting ready and a car was already waiting for us. There was no trouble on the return trip, and we could have kept the identity of the red-haired Kavanaugh without trouble.I had the screen on and the channel was always tuned to Des Moines TV.I don't know if the police found Mr. Barnes dead, but the journalists haven't heard about it yet. We went straight to the Don's office - or rather, as directly as possible around the bend in the curve.Open the jar there.The old man sent for Dr. Graves, who was the director of the Departmental Biology Laboratory and was well equipped with all kinds of equipment. We did not use operating equipment.What we need are gas masks, not operational readiness.A stench of organic decay filled the room, like the stench of a necrotic wound.We had to close the box quickly and crank up the exhaust fan. Graves sniffed. "What the hell is that thing?" he asked. "Reminds me of dead children." The old man cursed softly. "That's what you need to figure out. Use the best equipment, wear protective clothing while working, operate in a sterile environment. Also, don't assume this thing is dead." "If that thing were alive, I'd be Queen Anne." "Maybe you're really Queen Anne. Don't take your chances. Here's everything I can offer you: This is a parasite that attaches itself to a host, say a human, and can control it .It can almost be concluded that it originated from a species other than the earth and has metabolic functions." The boss of the laboratory said contemptuously: "A parasite outside the earth is attached to a host on the earth? Absurd! The chemical substances in the human body will definitely repel it." The old man said angrily, "To hell with your logic. When we caught it, it was parasitic on a human being. If that means it's an organism on Earth, tell me what kind of creature it is and where it is. Mate. Don't jump to conclusions, I want the facts." The biologist straightened up and said stiffly, "You'll get it!" "Go ahead. Wait a minute—do the right amount for the research, and I'm leaving most of this thing for evidence. Also, don't stick to your stupid assumption that this thing is dead. Now this scent Perhaps a weapon to protect it. That thing is dangerous as long as it's alive. If it's attached to your experimenter, I'll almost certainly be forced to kill him." The director of the laboratory didn't say anything more, and when he left, his spirit lost a lot. The old man sat down in his chair, sighed, and closed his eyes.He looked like he was asleep.Mary and I kept silent. After about five minutes, he opened his eyes and looked at me and said, "The thing that the doctor took from here just now, that smelly thing, assuming that it is roughly the same size, the ship is the same as the one we saw. How much can a spaceship of the same size as a fake spaceship hold?" "It's not certain whether there are spaceships at all," I said. "The evidence seems insufficient." "The evidence is weak, but irrefutable. There was a ship there. There is still a ship." "We should have checked the scene then." "In that case, that scene is the last place we'll ever see alive. Those six other lads aren't fools. Answer my question." "I can't answer that. How big the ship is doesn't tell the payload, because I don't know how the ship propels, how far it travels, and how much supplies the passengers will need. It's like asking me how long a rope is. If you want Let me take a wild guess and I'd say hundreds, maybe thousands." "Well... yes. So, tonight, there are hundreds, maybe thousands of controlled zombies in Iowa. Or according to Mary, eunuchs." He thought for a while, "but how can I How about passing these eunuchs and entering the harem? We can’t run around and shoot every round-shouldered person in Iowa. They’ll gossip.” He smiled slightly. "I'll ask you one more unanswerable question," I said, "if one spaceship landed in Iowa yesterday, how many more will land in North Dakota tomorrow? Or in Brazil?" ?” "Yes, there is this question." He looked even more worried, "I will answer you with the question of how long your rope is." "what?" "Long talk is enough to strangle you. You two, go wash up and enjoy it. Maybe you won't have another chance like this. Don't leave the office." I went back to the dressing room and got my skin color back and my normal look back.I took a bath, got a massage, and went to the staff bar, looking for something to drink and some company.I looked around and couldn't guess whether the girl I was looking for was blonde, brunette, or redhead.But one thing I'm pretty sure of, I'm sure I'll recognize her. It's redhead.Mary sat in a train seat, sipping a drink, looking much the same as when she was introduced to me as a younger sister. "Hi, sister." I came to her side. She smiled and said, "Hello, brother. Have a stronger glass." She moved her body to make room for me. I ordered bourbon and water, which I drank as medicine, and said, "Is this what you really are?" She shook her head. "Not at all. I actually have zebra stripes and two heads. What about you?" "My mum smothered me with a pillow the first time she saw me, so I never had a chance to know." She looked at me again like a stalk of beef, and said, "I can understand your mother's approach. I may be more ruthless than her. You will be too, bro." "Thank you," I said. "Let's stop pretending to be brother and sister. The relationship is too inhibiting." "Hmm... I think you need to restrain restraint." "Me? Not at all. I've never been violent, I've been very gentle, the 'bagis-willing' type." I'll say it again, if I put my hand on her and she just doesn't Like it, the hand must have been cut off when it was taken back, leaving only a bloody pile.The old man's children will never be sissies. [① see language.The honest coachman Baggis dared not express his heart to his lover, so he asked the young David Copperfield to tell his lover Peggotty, "Baggis is willing."]. She smiled: "So what if Mr. Barges is willing? Well, you remember, Miss Barges is unwilling, at least not tonight." She put down the glass, "We're done, let's have another glass." We ordered another cup and continued to sit there, feeling warm and comfortable.At this moment, the mood has been relaxed.Especially in our industry, this kind of time is not much, and it is worth savoring carefully. One of the things I like most about Marie is that she doesn't use sex as a tool unless it's for work.I think she knows—certainly knows—how rich she is.But she was too gentlemanly to abuse such a condition.Only keeping this sexual allure to a minimum made us both feel warm and at the same time not tense and comfortable. We sat there without saying much.I began to think how pretty she must look if she sat on the other side of the fireplace like a housewife.Nobody in our line of business really thinks about getting married—at the end of the day, pretty girls are just pretty girls.What's all the fuss about?Mary is also an agent herself, and talking to her will not get empty echoes like in Echo Mountain.I realized that I had been alone for a long, long time. "Mary—" "what?" "Are you married?" "Huh? Why do you ask that? Actually. Not yet—not yet. But does it have anything to do with you—I mean?" "Oh, maybe there is." I said stubbornly. She shook her head. "I'm serious," I went on. "Look at me well. I'm young with all my hands and feet, and I don't trample mud on my feet all over the room. You may not be as good as me in this respect." .” She laughed, and her smile was kind. "There is a lot of room for improvement in this rhetoric, and it must have been made up on the spur of the moment." "right." "Then I won't criticize much, and I will forget this passage. Listen, pervert, your methods are too low-level. Just because a woman told you that she won't sleep with you tonight, you are in a daze and want to have sex with me." She makes a contract. Some women will cling to that basely." "I'm serious." I said angrily. "So what if you are serious? How much will you pay me?" "I curse your beautiful eyes. If you want that kind of contract, fine. Do as you say. You keep your salary for yourself, and I'll give you half of mine... unless you don't want it." She shook her head: "That's not what I mean. I won't sign this kind of cohabitation contract, and I won't marry a man I'm willing to marry—" "I don't think you will either." "I just want you to know that you're not serious yourself." She looked me over calmly, "but maybe you are," she added softly. "I was serious." She shook her head again. "You shouldn't be married. You know that." "Agents shouldn't marry other people, but they can marry agents." She was about to answer when she stopped suddenly.My phone rang in my ears too, it was the old man's voice, and I knew she was listening to the same thing. "Come to my office," he said. We both stood up without saying a word.Mary stopped me at the door, put her hand on my arm, and looked me in the eyes. "That's why we can't talk about marriage. We have this work to be done. You, like me, have this work on your mind while we're talking." "I don't," "Don't kid me! Think about it, Sam—suppose you were married, and woke up to find that thing on your wife's shoulder, controlling her." There was a look of terror in her eyes, "it could be It was me, waking up to find this thing on your shoulder." "I'm going to try my luck. Also, I won't let this thing near you." She touched my cheek: "I believe you." We went into the old man's office. He looked up at us and said, "Come on, we have to go." "Where?" I asked. "Maybe, I shouldn't ask?" "White House. See the President. Shut up." I shut up.