'Obviously it wasn't.'
The creature's serene tone rankled Roma. 'Mauricio…'
'Something has gone wrong—as I predicted.'
Roma felt his anger flare to incandescence. 'I want no more talk of your predictions! I want that device. You say it is somewhere in this building—find it!
Mauricio stared at Roma a moment, then hopped down to the floor.
'It's that stranger,' he said. 'I'm sure of it.'
'Then find him. Let him be a stranger no more. Learn about him—where he lives, who he knows, who he loves—
Mauricio nodded and, without another word, trotted off, dragging his plastic bag behind him.
Disquiet nibbled at the base of Roma's spine as he watched him go. Could Mauricio be right? Was it not yet his time?
No. That was not in question. Then what had gone wrong? Was he right that the stranger—the insect who called himself Jack Shelby—was the problem?
He would have to learn more about him. And if he proved to be the source of interference, Roma would see to it that he sorely regretted the day he had dared to insinuate his insignificant presence into something so momentous.
FRIDAY
THE 1ST ANNUAL CONFERENCE OF THE SOCIETY FOR THE EXPOSURE OF SECRET ORGANIZATIONS AND UNACKNOWLEDGED PHENOMENA
SCHEDULE OF EVENTS FRIDAY
Registration Desk Open: 8:00 A.M.-8:00 P.M.
Exhibits Open: 8:00 A.M.-8:00 P.M.
8:00-9:20 A.M.: Experiences' Panel
9:30-10:20 A.M.: The Nephilim of the Bible: Fallen angels—or the first alien visitors?
10:30-NOON: Blue Helmet Warning: An ex-NATO official tells of the actual plans he saw for a UN- led takeover of America
NOON-1 :30 P.M.: Lunch Break
1:30-2:50 P.M.: El Nino: The unnatural 'natural' phenomenon—evidence that heat from CIA solar mirrors are creating El Nino conditions in the Pacific waters off the west coast of South America.
3:00-5:00 P.M.: UFOs Over Tokyo: Eyewitness accounts with photos!
5:00-7:00 P.M.: Cocktail Reception—meet the panelists
9:00 PM-??? Films:
1
Jack tried but couldn't sleep. And when dawn came, he returned to the bathroom and found the dark green crate still there.
Impossible.
No, he didn't want to say impossible. Because obviously it was possible. Once you started believing the impossible, the next step was maybe hearing someone speaking to you through your TV.
He pulled the curtains and looked outside. The city was awakening. Garbage trucks rumbling and clanking, people walking their dogs before heading for work…
Just another day in Hell's Kitchen.
But not just another day in this particular hotel room. That crate wasn't a dream. The part about it floating in mid-air—
Back to the bathroom.
All right, let's think about this, he told himself, staring at the box. If the crate's real and it didn't come through the door, how did it get here? How did someone sneak it into the room without me hearing anything?
Cautiously he stepped into the bathroom. The crate wasn't steaming anymore, the air against his feet no longer cold. He reached his hand toward its surface but didn't touch it: seemed to be room temperature now. Close up like this, he could make out fine traces of black within its dark green surface.
Avoiding contact, Jack knelt and checked the floor around the crate, inspected under the sink counter, opened all the drawers…no sign of an opening or hidden door.
Baffled, he sat on the edge of the tub and stared at the crate. How had the damn thing got here?
Gingerly, he nudged it with his toe. The wood didn't feel like any wood he'd ever known. The cover moved under light pressure from his toe and he jerked his foot back.
It wasn't sealed.
Giving the crate wide clearance, Jack retrieved the desk chair from the next room. He felt like a jerk, leaning around the edge of the bathroom doorway and poking at the crate with the chair leg, but he freely admitted that this thing had him spooked and he wasn't taking any chances.
Finally the lid slid off. No explosion, no snakes or giant spiders came crawling out. The overhead lights gleamed off…metal bars.
He stepped in for a closer look. The crate held a jumble of miniature girders. Looked like an oversized erector set, with nuts and bolts and braces, but no plans.
Was he supposed to know what this was? Hell, was it even meant for him?
And then he saw part of the underside of the lid. Looked like a diagram. He flipped it the rest of the way over. Yeah. Plans that looked like an old blueprint for assembling whatever it was, not printed on the material, more like engraved in white into its dark green surface. Some sort of an oil rig, or something that resembled one. But the plans looked incomplete. The top of the structure appeared to be cut off at the upper end of the lid, as if they'd run out of room.
Didn't matter. He wasn't about to start assembling it. He had better things to do. He searched the crate
