“They just vanished!” said McVane. “Like a puff of smoke.”
“The woman,” said Morse. “The so-called intermediary. Who is she?”
McVane answered. “Her name is Benita Alvarez. We’re not supposed to know that, Senator. We got the information from Congressman Alvarez. She’s some kind of seventh cousin twice removed. General Wallace was in Alvarez’s office when the woman brought him a kind of cube thing that delivered the message. He, in turn, brought the thing to the president. I first knew about this on Monday, when I attended a Cabinet meeting at the White House. The real intermediary doesn’t look like the woman on the tape, by the way. She’s younger and better looking, and she has dark hair.”
“She could be anybody!” Morse exploded. “A Chinese agent. Somebody planted before the wall came down! I want her, McVane. I want to talk to her right now!”
“When we find out where she is, Senator. I had arranged to follow her from the meeting, but the White House managed to be obstructive, as usual. It’s only a matter of a few hours before we find her, but as you pointed out, it’s after midnight.”
“So these damned monsters will teach us to be neighborly,” fumed the senator. “Teach a fox to eat chickens! You find that woman. You bring her here. Put her down in the basement rooms, where we can have a very private little talk. You bring somebody from that spook factory of yours, too, so we can be sure she’s telling us the truth . . .”
“Before you consider torture or drugs, you might try just talking with her,” said Prentice Arthur, his lip curled in distaste. “As yet, we have no reason to suspect she’s anything but an ordinary American citizen.”
“You believe that, you believe in the tooth fairy,” sneered the senator. “No, Prentice. I’ve seen this coming. All the science fiction and the TV series and the movies! We’ve had aliens pushed down our throats for decades! Softening us up. When we hear the word alien, we think of ET and little boys riding bicycles across the full moon. We think of close encounters, with musical starships. Do you think that’s all coincidence? A fad? Let me tell you, it’s purposeful, it’s arranged. Now they’re ready for the takeover, and they’ve got us so well softened up, they figure we’ll go along, no hassle, no fighting. Well, they’ve figured without Byron Morse. Get me this woman! I want her.” He paused a moment, chewing at the corner of his lips. “Does she have family?”
“A husband in Albuquerque, two children in college in California.”
“Well, while you’re at it, I want them, too. All three of them.”
Even McVane looked startled at this, and Prentice actually attempted to disagree. “Senator, you’re being precipitous . . .”
“I’m being fucking decisive,” Morse snarled. “And it’s damned well time! You’re a lawyer, Prentice! Get some writs or some congressional subpoenas going. Issue them in the name of the committee. We oversee intelligence, damn it, and this woman’s family may have information crucial to intelligence.”
“Surely we can take a little time . . .”
“You think I’m out of my head? Hmm? Well, you just go along with me. And you watch the news. Pretty soon you’re going to see things happening. Things you can’t explain. Oh, those aliens on the tape, they’ll explain it away, but there’ll be people dead, or people missing. When you read about it, you remember what I’m telling you. Until then, just do what I ask and pretend you believe in it! Now get off your ass and take me home!”
Dink left with Arthur and the senator. McVane gathered up the tape and his briefcase, then went to shut the open windows. The strange smell was even stronger than it had been initially, an acrid stench, and he leaned out, searching the area for signs of smoke. Nothing there but a line of trees, some of which had been chopped off and re-grown from the crown. He searched for the word. Pollarded. Ugly, in his opinion.
“McVane,” said someone from nearby.
He jerked upright, banging his head on the window. “Who’s that?” he snarled.