A small desert town didn't seem a likely
place to encounter murder--especially one that
had been planned on a world light years away!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
June 1956
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The murder was committed ten minutes before the Otarkian ship lifted
for the long trip back to the mother-planet. It was discovered ten
minutes after blast off. The killer--a great lout of an upper-hillman,
signed on the last moment to fill a sudden vacancy--bragged of the kill
to his sergeant.
Bragged grinning. "He was crouched behind a rock peeking out at the
ship. I came behind him--very quiet. I broke his neck and--and did
other things. He never knew what happened."
The guard was rushed immediately before the Commander--into the dread
Presence. The Commander's eyes were terrible but his voice remained
soft. "You know by what a slim thread our invasion plans hang?"
"Yes, Commander."
"You know that utter secrecy has been our key from the start?"
"Yes, Commander."
"I just wanted to make sure before I execute you in the name of the
Supreme Otarkian Council."
"Yes, Commander."
The Commander drew his gun and aimed accurately. The guard died bravely.
And that was that.
But there was worry. The Commander consulted with the Second. "It would
be wise to return."
The Second calculated time. "It would be high noon back there before we
could set down."
"We could wait for darkness."
"True."
"But fifteen hours of daylight would have elapsed."
"It is a lonely place."
"But if a trap were set."
The Second considered. "When the body is discovered--what will it
reveal? Nothing definite. No chain of logic could point to us."
The Commander frowned. "But success depends so completely upon secrecy.
If the experiment is successful--"
"It will be, sir."
"I hope so. Hold your course for home...."
* * * * *
The body of Mack Styles was found at two o'clock that afternoon. By Tom
Brazier and Frank Brooks, in a secluded spot on the Arizona desert.
After he hadn't reported in they had gone out in a jeep to check up.
They saw Mack's jeep nosing up out of a pocket as though peering at a
white alkali flat just beyond.
They rounded the pocket and found Mack and both of them got suddenly
sick and strove to hide their shock from each other.
Brazier said, "Jesus!" The word was both a curse and a prayer.
"What could have hit him?"
"Look at his legs. Broken--mangled. Like through a machine!"
"A gorilla could do that."
Brazier forebore the obvious retort and walked out onto the alkali
flat. He stopped in its center and turned slowly, his eyes searching.
They found nothing. He went to the edge of the flat and began circling
it slowly. In four places there were marks in the dust. The marks
formed the four corners of a huge square. Something might have set
down there but you couldn't be sure. Probably dust-marks left by the
swirling wind-devils that danced across the desert like miniature
cyclones.
"There's a town over there."
Tom Brazier looked up quickly. Frank Brooks had come to stand by his
side and was pointing off through a declivity in the rocks.
"Damned if there isn't. Ever see it before?"
"I think so. Isn't it the same town that lies about two miles off the
Notched Butte road? The direction's about right."
"Uh-huh."
They were Security men from the camp forty miles southwest; Brazier
the senior, gave the orders. As they started back, toward the jeep, he
said, "Call in and make the report."
"We aren't waiting?"
"No. We'll move on to that town."
"But we looked it over a week ago."