Chapter 7 chapter Five

I didn't see the bear trap; she locked the bedroom door.I know this because I tried it. She woke me up three hours later, we ate breakfast, lit a cigarette, and I reached for the news channel.Television stations are focusing on the candidates from each state to enter the "Miss America" ​​finals.Normally, I'd watch with great interest.But today, such reporting seems trivial.Because these ladies don't have rounded shoulders, it's impossible for them to compete in outfits that conceal bumps larger than mosquito bites. I said, "What are you doing now?" "We've got to organize the facts that we've unearthed for the president to take a hard look at," Mary said. "There should be action on a national level — global action, really."

"How to take it?" "We have to see him again." I said again: "How do you see me?" She doesn't know either. I said, "There's only one way we can do it—officially. Through the old man." I put the phone through, using our code, so Mary could hear.Immediately I heard: "Deputy Director Oldfield, for the old man. He's not here. Go ahead." "Only to the old man." There was a short pause, and then: "Both of you have no work at hand, is it a business or a private matter?" "Oh, I suppose you'd call it a private matter."

"Well, as long as it's not business, I can't put you through the old man. All business matters are handled by me. Say it or not?" I thanked him and hung up before I could curse.Then I entered another password.In addition to the normal line, the old man also has a special number, even if he is in the coffin, this number can guarantee to wake him up.But if an agent uses this line unnecessarily, that person can only pray to God.I have never used this number in five years. He lost his temper and cursed loudly. "Boss," I said, "about Iowa—" The scolding stopped immediately, "What's wrong?"

"Mary and I have spent the night digging through the archives to find past data. We want to talk to you." Those blasphemous voices came again.He asked me to make key points and hand them in to finish.Wait for the analysis from above; then he said that he would fry my ears and make them into sandwiches. "Boss!" I said sternly. "what?" "If you can let it go, so can we. Mary and I are resigning from the department now—officially." Mary raised her eyebrows, but she said nothing.There was a long silence.I thought he'd cut the line, and then he said in a weary, resigned tone, "Pamgrade Inn, North Miami Beach. I'm the third darkest from the bottom."

"Right away." I hailed a cab and we went up to the roof.I had the taxi driver swerve onto the ocean to evade the Carolina speed watch; we saved a lot of time. The old man did get tanned.As we debriefed, he lay there with sand running down his fingers, looking sullen. When we talked about the thirty-year reincarnation, he looked up sharply, but let me continue talking; when he mentioned that this cycle might coincide with the disappearance phenomenon, he stopped me and called the department. a phone call. 'Get me the analysis room.Hello—Peter?I am the boss.I want a graph of unexplained disappearances since 1800, including frequency.ah?Humans, of course—did you think I wanted the key to the latch?Eliminate cases with known causes, don't be more sure, and give it to me in the form of a chart.when?I wanted it two hours ago; what are you waiting for? "

After he hung up the phone, he struggled to his feet and asked me to hand him my cane.He said, "Okay, get back to work. There's no equipment here." "To the White House?" Mary asked impatiently. "Huh? Be mature. Nothing you two find will change the President's mind at all." "Then what to do?" "I don't know. Keep quiet, unless there's something really bright about it." The old man has a car, so of course I will drive it back.After turning the block traffic light, I said, "Boss, I have a way that I might be able to convince the President, if you get him to be patient."

He snorted. "Here," I continued, "send two agents, me and another one. The other agent puts on a camcorder and keeps this camera pointed at me. You let the president see what happens. " "What if nothing happens?" "I'm going to make it happen. First, I'm going to where the spaceship landed, and I'm going to force my way in. We're going to take close-up pictures of the real spaceship, and send it straight to the White House. Then, I'm going to go back to Barnes' office and investigate what happened to the spaceship. Shoulders. I'm going to rip their shirts right in front of the camera. It's like taking a sledgehammer and smashing all the camouflage to pieces, nothing more subtle."

"You know what? Your chances of survival are about as good as a mouse at a cat party." "Not necessarily. In my opinion, those things don't have superhuman strength. I dare say they are very limited. They can only do what the people they parasitize can do-maybe not even that. Yes. I'm not going to be a martyr. Whatever happens, I'll send you a picture, a clear picture." "Ok--" "Maybe it will work," Mary put in, "I'll be that other agent, and I can—" The old man and I said at the same time, "No."—and then I blushed, because I had no right to say so.

Mary continued: "I would say that I'm the right guy. Because I, um, I can recognize people who have been possessed by parasites, and that's my gift." "No," the old man repeated, "it's unnecessary. Where he's going, those people have already been controlled by parasites--until there is no proof, you can only assume so. Besides, you stay There is another job." She should have kept silent, but this time she didn't. "What else is there to do? This is the most important thing." The old man didn't reprimand her, and said calmly: "It's another important job. Once I can convince the president of the seriousness of the problem, I plan to let you be his bodyguard."

"Oh," she replied, after a moment's consideration, "well, boss—" "how?" "I'm not sure I'd be able to recognize a woman possessed by a parasite. I don't have, uh, a talent for that." "Easy, get rid of all his secretaries. Ask me a question that will stump me. Mary—you'll have to watch him too. He's a man." She thought about it seriously, "What should I do if I find out that the parasite has controlled him?" "You take the necessary steps, the Vice President takes his place, and you get shot for treason. Simple as that. Now for the mission. We're sending Jarvis with the camera, and I think I'll have to send Davidson too Sent, as a back-up killer. Davidson can spy on Jarvis while Jarvis is taking pictures of you—and you focus on Davidson as much as you can. A combo.”

"Do you think this method will work?" "No—but any plan is better than no plan. Maybe this will spark something." Jarvis, Davidson, and I headed for Iowa, and the old man went back to Washington.He took Mary with him.When we parted, she pushed me into a corner, took my ear with both hands, kissed me hard, and said, "Sam—come back by whatever means possible." I was impulsive and felt like fifteen.I guess it's a second childhood. Davidson drove back to where I had found the bridge last time.I was in charge of the directions, spreading out a large-scale military map with pins marking the exact spot where the actual spacecraft had landed.The bridge still stands as a clear and unambiguous point of reference.We got off the road about a fifth of a mile east of the site and walked through the bush to the site.No one is stopping us. It should be said - almost on the spot.We walked through the burned land and decided to get out of the car and walk.Photos taken by the space station show the scene within the burned area—there are no "flying saucers."A better detective than me might be able to figure out that this was once a flying saucer landing site.Even if there were any traces of the landing, it was completely wiped out by the fire. Jarvis filmed all the situations, but I know, the slugs won this round again.When getting out of the car, we bumped into an old farmer.We were instructed to keep a cautious distance from him, even though he didn't seem threatening. "The fire is not small." I said, dodging aside. "Not small indeed," he said sadly. "Burn my two best cows, poor animals. Are you reporters?" "Yeah," I said, "sent out to try my luck." I wish Mary was around.With her help, I can hold on.Maybe this person was born with such round shoulders.On the other hand, if the old man was right about the dirigibles—certainly—then the seemingly naive bumpkin would know.That is to say, he is covering up the truth, so he must be a possessed person. I think I have to.To catch a live slug and have a photo wired to the White House.The chances of catching one here are far greater than catching one in a crowd.I winked at my partner; they were both alert, and Jarvis started filming. The old farmer turned to go when I tripped him.He fell face down on the ground, and I rode on his back like a monkey, ripping off his shirt.Jarvis takes a close-up; Davidson comes to cover.Before he could catch his breath, I showed his shoulder. The shoulders were bare, as clean as mine, free from parasites, not a single trace of parasites.It wasn't anywhere else on him, and I looked at it carefully before I let him stand up. I helped him stand up and brushed the dirt off him.His clothes are covered in ashes, as are mine. "I'm so sorry," I said, "I was completely mistaken." He was shaking with anger. "You little—" It seemed that he couldn't find a suitable word for me.He looked at us and his lips were trembling, "I want the law to punish you. If I were twenty years younger, I would have to deal with the three of you with my own hands." "Trust me, old man, this is a misunderstanding." "Misunderstanding!" His face wrinkled, and I thought he was about to cry, "I came back from Omaha to find my home burned down, half of my livestock was gone, and I couldn't find it anywhere My son-in-law. I came out to see why strangers wandered about my land and nearly got beaten to death. Misunderstanding! What the hell is going on in this world?" I thought I could answer the last question, but I didn't.I really wanted to make up for the embarrassment I just made him, but he threw the money I gave him on the ground.We ran away with our tails between our legs. We got back in the car and drove forward when Davidson asked me, "Do you and the old man know what you're doing?" "I make mistakes," I said furiously, "but when did you ever hear the old man make mistakes?" "Um... no. Never. Where next?" "Go straight to Des Moines TV. You can't go wrong this time." "Anyway," Jarvis said, "I filmed it from start to finish." I didn't answer. Enter the entrance to the Des Moines Turnpike.When I handed over the money, the toll collector was a little hesitant.He glanced at his notebook, then at our license plates. "The sheriff is looking for this car," he said. "Keep right." He didn't raise the rail. "Okay, keep to the right," I said, backing the car about thirty feet and putting my foot on the gas pedal.The railings are thick and strong.Fortunately, some of the cars are enhanced, and the engine power is also large.I didn't slow down after rushing past. "This," said Davidson, bewildered, "is very interesting. Do you say you know what you're doing?" "Stop nagging," I said sternly. "Even if I'm hotheaded, I'm still in charge. Listen, you two: We're going to get those pictures even if we die here." "Listen to you, boss." I left my pursuers far behind.When I came to the TV station, I stopped the car suddenly, and we rushed out.There's no need for Uncle Charlie Kwon's euphemism at this point - we rush into the first open elevator and press the button for the top floor - which is where Barnes is.Once on the top floor, I left the elevator door open, hoping to use it later. We went into the outer office and the receptionist tried to stop us, but we pushed her past and went in: the girls all looked up in surprise.I went straight to the door of the office in Barnsley and tried to open it, but it was locked.I turned to his secretary and said, "Where's Barnes?" "Are you sure?" she asked politely. I look down to see if the shoulders of her sweater fit.puffed up.For God's sake, I thought, it's her.She was here when I killed Barnes. I bent down and pulled up her sweater. i was right.I can't be wrong.This is the second time I've watched a piece of raw flesh bulge out of a parasite. I feel like throwing up, but I'm too busy.She struggled, scratched, and tried to bite me.I slashed at the side of her neck with a judo move, barely touching the loathsome thing.I poked her stomach hard with three fingers, and a big back slung her to the ground. "Jarvis," I called, "close up." The idiot fiddled with his device, he was bent over, his big ass was between me and the camera.He straightened up. "Damn it," he said. "Burn a pipe." "Change it—quickly!" A stenographer stood up across the room and fired.It wasn't at me, it wasn't at Jarvis, she was hitting the camera - it hit.Davidson and I shot her down at the same time. At what appeared to be a signal, about half a dozen men slammed on Davidson.They seemed to have no guns, and Chi Zi threw him down with his fists. Still holding the secretary tight, I fired.Out of the corner of my eye, I turned and saw Barnes—"Barnes" number two—standing in his doorway.I shot through his chest to make sure I hit the slug, which I knew was on his back.I turned around while facing the scene of carnage. Davidson stood up again.A girl crawled towards him; she seemed injured.He shot her in the face and she stopped.His next bullet passed my ear.I looked over my shoulder and said, "Thanks! Let's get out of here. Jarvis—quick!" The elevator was still open, and we rushed in, me dragging Barnes' secretary.I closed the elevator doors and pressed the button.Davidson was trembling, and Jarvis was pale. "Come on," I said, "you're not shooting people, you're shooting things. Like this." I lifted the girl up and looked down at her back. I almost fell over when I saw this.My snatch, the living body I had been holding on to and trying to bring back with its host, was gone.Presumably it slipped to the floor during the commotion. "Jarvis," I said, "did you glue something on it?" He shook his head and said nothing.I didn't say anything, neither did Davidson. The girl's back was covered in a red rash like the tips of hundreds of pins where the thing had been attached.I pulled off her sweater and put her on the floor against the elevator wall.She remained unconscious, as if to remain so forever.We left her in the elevator when we got to the ground floor. Obviously, no one noticed what was going on up there.We walked across the hall to the street without hearing a shout. Our car was parked in vain and a cop had his foot on the bumper and was issuing a ticket.He handed me the ticket as we got into the car. "You know, no parking here, man," he said reproachfully. I said "sorry" and signed his ticket.This is the safest and fastest method.Then I drove the car over the curb at full throttle, avoiding the traffic as much as possible, and took off directly from the main street in the city.I was wondering if the policeman also put this on the ticket.After the car rose to a certain height, I remembered to replace the license plate and identification code.The old man thought of everything. But when we went back, he didn't appreciate my approach.I reported to him on the way, but he interrupted me and ordered us to go straight back to the department office. Mary and he were there.I knew right away: if the old man had convinced the President, she would have stayed there. He let me tell what happened, grunting now and then. "How much did you see?" I asked him when I was done. “When you smashed the barrier at the toll booth, the signal was lost,” he told me. “It’s not like the president was impressed by what he saw.” "I don't think so," "Actually, he asked me to fire you." I froze.I was ready to voluntarily resign, but this still took me by surprise. "I would very much like—" I began. "Calm down!" the old man said sternly, "I told him that he can fire me, but he can't fire my subordinates. You are a complete fool." Then he said more calmly, "But you can't I forgive you lightly." "thanks." Mary paced restlessly up and down the room.I kept trying to catch her eye, but couldn't see anything.Now, she stopped behind Jarvis's chair--signed to the old man as she had done when she saw Barnes, thumbs down. I shot Jarvis in the side of the head with the pistol and he slid off the chair. "Stand back, Davidson!" snapped the old man.He drew his gun and aimed it at Davidson's chest. "Mary, how is he?" "He's fine." "What about him?" "Sam is fine." The old man looked us over, and I never felt so close to death. "Take off your shirts, both of you," he said grumpily. We both took off our shirts—Mary was right about both of us.I started wondering, if the slugs were infesting me, would I realize it myself? "Deal with him now," ordered the old man. "Put gloves on, both of you." We laid Jarvis face down on the floor and carefully cut open his clothes.We have living specimens.