He didn't answer, only nodded and headed for the pilot's cubicle.
But, she thought dismally, even if that were the explanation, her idea might not solve the problem. It wasn't just the headquarters staff that needed to be checked for some damn Scarecrow thing. It was everybody. It could be someone on this plane. It could be-that was the worst thought-it could be Hilda herself who had somehow been bugged. And, as with the Dannerman and the Pats, she would never know it had happened.
When the VTOL landed it was at a helipad along the East River. Then they were all hustled into two armored vans-happily enough in two shifts, with the two Docs and their guards filling one of the vans by themselves so that Hilda was spared their aroma for a while. They headed north to the UN Building at high speed, with four motorbike outriders to clear the way and a half-track chewing up First Avenues already potholed pavement behind them.
Along the way they passed a dozen knots of protesters of one kind or another, most of them apparently religious. 'Damn them,' Makalano remarked to Hilda. 'What do you suppose they want?'
Hilda nodded to her aide, busily making notes about the protesters as they drove. 'You're our expert, Tepp.'
Merla Tepp looked up. 'I've identified three groups so far. The Inerrants-that was my own old bunch-and the Radical Southern Methodists are two of them, plus the Christian League Against Blasphemy. They think the aliens are the Antichrist, or at least agents of the Devil, and they want them to be fired back into space right away. But there's another bunch, too. All I know about them is what I see on their posters, but they look like charismatics to me.'
'They want to get rid of the aliens, too?'
'Oh, no. Quite the contrary, if I understand their posters. They think they're angels direct from God. All they want is to be allowed to worship them.'
Makalanos laughed out loud. 'I know how we can straighten them out on that. Just let them get close enough to get a good smell.'
CHAPTER TWENTY- SIX
Traffic was unbelievable. Dannerman's taxi inchwormed along Forty-sixth Street, lunging forward a meter or two and then stopping dead, with the driver angrily slapping the wheel and muttering obscenities to himself. When at last they reached Second Avenue there was a solid line of cops to keep everybody from entering the last block. 'Street's closed,' the nearest one bawled, waving her stunstick. 'Move it on!'
Dannerman had to walk the rest of the way. At the United Nations Plaza there wasn't any traffic moving at all, not vehicular at least. The whole street in front of the UN Building was choked with thousands of human beings, chanting, shouting, milling around in defiance of the police squadrons trying to move them along. And when he had zigzagged his way through the pack he found a long line waiting at the gate to the UN complex. Most of them appeared to be would-be spectators hoping to get in for the show. Most of them weren't succeeding.
Tolerantly Dannerman took his place at the end of it. He was in no particular hurry, and a few thousand brawling religious fanatics weren't going to spoil his day. Dannerman considered that his world was definitely improving itself. He had accomplished his mission in Ukraine without bloodshed. He no longer had a guard tailing him every moment. . . .
And then there was Anita Berman, who had been the biggest improvement of all.
Anita had always been a sweet and forgiving woman, with plenty to forgive: any number of broken dates and long absences when he could not tell her what was going on because it was Bureau business. Now that she knew he was a Bureau agent all the lapses were explained. No, better than just explained. Anita was thrilled. She had been as swept up in the Scarecrow turmoil as anyone else on Earth, and here he was, her lover, astonishingly at the very heart of it! 'I was always pretty crazy about you, Dan,' she had whispered in his ear the night before, 'but, wow, now it's really special!'
He was grinning reminiscently to himself, when someone tapped his shoulder. It was a cop, pointing at the beginning of the line. There a woman inside the gate was beckoning peremptorily to Dannerman. He recognized her as Senator Alicia Piombero, and she was gesturing for him to come in.
Even at the UN, a United States senator could smooth all ways. When he had run the gauntlet of catcalls from the waiting line and was at the gate, she looked him over, and said, 'You're Dannerman, right? You were summoned to appear at this thing?' And, when he nodded: 'That's what I told the guard. Just show him the summons and he'll let you in.'
The guard did. As they walked toward the actual doorway he thanked the woman, and she said, 'You're welcome. Maybe we can do each other a favor.'
'What's that?' he asked, but she shook her head, pointing at the other guard post just inside the door. When they had finished with the metal detectors and the patdowns and the sniffers she took him aside.
'Listen,' she said, 'I only have a minute because I have to get up to the Security Council, but you've been having trouble collecting your pay, haven't you? I mean, because now there are two of you?'
It was a sore point. 'The damn payroll people are taking forever to figure out what to do, yes,' he said.
'Well, Representative Collerton-I don't know if you know her? She's willing to get a special members' bill through to pay both you Dannermans in full. You're entitled, after all, and that would cut right through the red tape.'
Dannerman perked up, then his guard went up. 'That would be good,' he said cautiously, waiting for it.
'Glad to do it, Dannerman, but you can do something for me, too, if you want to. You know Marcus is a little annoyed with me?'
Mr. L. Koga: 'Whatever may or may not be going on in the Security Council at this time, it is our undoubted duty to learn the facts in this matter to the satisfaction of each and every delegate, not just those who represent the so-called Great Powers, so that we may take appropriate action.'
Mr. V. Puunamunda: 'Will the gentleman from Kenya please yield?'
Mr. L. Koga: 'I will yield to the gentleman from the Marshall Islands for thirty seconds.'
Mr. V. Puunamunda: 'I thank the gentleman. I wish only to call to the attention of this body that our islands
