General Leslie Bowers put in a call to State and got the
secretary.
"I don't like to bother you, Herb," he said, "but there's
something I want to check. Maybe you can help me."
"Glad to help you if I can."
"There's a fellow hanging around out here at the Pentagon, trying
to get in to see me. Said I was the only one he'd talk to, but you
know how it is."
"I certainly do."
"Name of Huston or Hudson or something like that."
"He was here just an hour or so ago," said the secretary.
"Crackpot sort of fellow."
"He's gone now?"
"Yes. I don't think he'll be back."
"Did he say where you could reach him?"
"No, I don't believe he did."
"How did he strike you? I mean what kind of impression did you get
of him?"
"I told you. A crackpot."
"I suppose he is. He said something to one of the colonels that
got me worrying. Can't pass up anything, you know--not in the
Dirty Tricks Department. Even if it's crackpot, these days you got
to have a look at it."
"He offered sanctuary," said the secretary indignantly. "Can you
imagine that!"
"He's been making the rounds, I guess," the general said. "He was
over at AEC. Told them some sort of tale about knowing where there
were vast uranium deposits. It was the AEC that told me he was
heading your way."
"We get them all the time. Usually we can ease them out. This
Hudson was just a little better than the most of them. He got in
to see me."
"He told the colonel something about having a plan that would
enable us to establish secret bases anywhere we wished, even in
the territory of potential enemies. I know it sounds crazy...."
"Forget it, Les."
"You're probably right," said the general, "but this idea sends
me. Can you imagine the look on their Iron Curtain faces?"
The scared little government clerk, darting conspiratorial glances
all about him, brought the portfolio to the FBI.
"I found it in a bar down the street," he told the man who took
him in tow. "Been going there for years. And I found this
portfolio laying in the booth. I saw the man who must have left it
there and I tried to find him later, but I couldn't."
"How do you know he left it there?"
"I just figured he did. He left the booth just as I came in and it
was sort of dark in there and it took a minute to see this thing
laying there. You see, I always take the same booth every day and
Joe sees me come in and he brings me the usual and--"
"You saw this man leave the booth you usually sit in?"
"That's right."
"Then you saw the portfolio."
"Yes, sir."
"You tried to find the man, thinking it must have been his."
"That's exactly what I did."
"But by the time you went to look for him, he had disappeared."
"That's the way it was."
"Now tell me--why did you bring it here? Why didn't you turn it in
to the management so the man could come back and claim it?"
"Well, sir, it was like this. I had a drink or two and I was
wondering all the time what was in that portfolio. So finally I
took a peek and--"
"And what you saw decided you to bring it here to us."
"That's right. I saw--"
"Don't tell me what you saw. Give me your name and address and
don't say anything about this. You understand that we're grateful
to you for thinking of us, but we'd rather you said nothing."
"Mum's the word," the little clerk assured him, full of vast
importance.
The FBI phoned Dr. Ambrose Amberly, Smithsonian expert on
paleontology.
"We've got something, Doctor, that we'd like you to have a look
at. A lot of movie film."
"I'll be most happy to. I'll come down as soon as I get clear. End
of the week, perhaps?"
"This is very urgent, Doctor. Damnest thing you ever saw. Big,
shaggy elephants and tigers with teeth down to their necks.
There's a beaver the size of a bear."
"Fakes," said Amberly, disgusted. "Clever gadgets. Camera angles."
"That's what we thought first, but there are no gadgets, no camera
angles. This is the real McCoy."
"I'm on my way," the paleontologist said, hanging up.
_Snide item in smug, smartaleck gossip column: Saucers are passé
at the Pentagon. There's another mystery that's got the high brass
very high._