program. It now seems that was an error. As recent developments have shown, the conquest of space is now urgent. The nations which have retained some sort of rudimentary space capability-the Europeans, the Americans, the Chinese-are now confronted with unparalleled economic opportunities and, very possibly, grave military responsibilities. As the second most populous nation on Earth, we should join them forthwith.
-Hindustan Times, New Delhi
There was something new at Camp Smolley. The Bureau guards were still in place, so were the rain-soaked protesters across the road, but now there was also a company of blue-helmeted United Nations troops, fully armed, deployed all around the perimeter, and a detachment of the same at the checkpoints. They were thorough. After they put Dannerman through the electronic search and stripped him of his weapons, all his weapons, they had just begun. Two of them opened the little satchel of documents Dannerman had picked up from the courier flight, talking to each other in Spanish-these particular UN troops were Chileans, it seemed. They turned every page, one turning while the other held a lamp that pulsed blue, green, white, orange-looking for some suspicious kind of fluorescence, Dannerman supposed-before they gave them back to him and let him proceed. Two more guards, one Bureau and the other UN, convoyed him to an office and took their posts outside the door.
Pat One was waiting impatiently inside. She wore a quarantine gown and quarantine gloves, and there was a transparent visor hanging loose under her chin. She looked tired. 'All this damn paper, 'she complained when Dannerman handed her the packet. 'Couldn't you get us a lawyer that had ever heard about electronics?'
'I got you a lawyer who's going to make you rich,' Dannerman pointed out. And while she was signing he looked around. Half a dozen wall screens were displaying interesting things-a news screen by the door, next to it one that showed one of the Docs disassembling a Scarecrow gadget while half a dozen experts stood by, a third screen that showed the other Doc mewing and gesturing as he drew pictures for another group of experts. Pat One looked up. 'Those guys are mostly linguists,' she said. 'We can't talk to the son of a bitch, you know. They're trying to figure out what they call the deep structure of his language, but all he wants to do is draw pictures.'
'Can't they get Dopey to help? He's supposed to be a real hotshot with languages.'
Pat One shook her head. 'He won't help us. He's not even eating, he's so shook up. He won't even tell us what that thing is they're taking apart, he just says the Beloved Leaders are going to punish us all for this.'
Dannerman thought uneasily of his breakfast conversation with Sherry Walton. 'Did he say how?'
'Not him. Maybe the Doc's trying to tell us something about that, only we can't figure out what. Maybe-' She thought for a moment, then shrugged. 'I don't know if I'm supposed to let you see this stuff, but, what the hell, you're a spook yourself, aren't you? Wait a minute. This is Priam Makalanos's office, and I don't know all the systems, but-Here.'
She finished playing with the controls on Makalanos's desk, and the pictures on the wall screens changed. They were drawings, done in the Doc's neat draftsmanship. The first one showed the UN Building in New York, then Beijing's Forbidden City, the Arc deTriomphe in Paris, India's Taj Mahal-one after another, the most celebrated sights on Earth. And in all of them there was something that didn't belong there: Scarecrows. Walking around. The pictures weren't photographs, but they were neat and unmistakable drawings of the pumpkin-headed creatures. They were showing Scarecrows present in all the major cities of Earth.
Dannerman frowned at the pictures and shook his head. 'It beats me,' he said. 'It can't mean what it looks like. If there were that many Scarecrows here, we would have seen some trace of them, wouldn't we?'
'It beats me, too,' Pat One said somberly. 'But I'm sure of one thing. It isn't good.'
CHAPTER THIRTY- SEVEN
Lawyer Hecksher got to Pat Adcock's office before Dannerman got there with the signed papers, but he didn't seem to mind waiting. He sat in a corner, carefully rereading his papers and making cryptic pencil-on-pad notes for himself, paying no attention to Pat or his surroundings as she went on with her work.
It wasn't a long wait. Dannerman had made a quick trip from the airport, and as Pat went out to meet him she found him standing at the reception desk, his Anita Berman on his arm, chatting with Jan-ice DuPage, who was standing uncomfortably on her crutches.
Pat frowned. She hadn't expected to see Janice there. Then she remembered why. 'I thought you were going to your friend's funeral.'
Janice looked put-upon. 'It's been postponed. Don't ask me why. Some damn kind of red tape.'
'Too bad,' Pat said absently, taking the clutch of documents from Dannerman and leaving him there.
Mr. Hecksher took the papers from her courteously and spent a good five minutes checking them over. Then he gave her a cheerful smile. 'Looks all right. Signed in all the right places. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll start getting them served.'
'Does that mean somebody will have to fly to China and all?'
'China, no. We'll serve that one on their ambassador here, that's what ambassadors are for. But I think we'd better serve the Europeans in person-oh, I see what's on your mind,' he added, beaming at her. 'You're worried about the costs. Don't worry. It'll all be on the bill when we settle.'
'And if we don't settle?' Pat asked.
He looked surprised. 'But we will. Did you read the texts you signed? Part of the court submission is a request for an estoppal, ordering them to make no changes in the artifacts already on hand because of the risk of damaging the Observatory's property.' Pat frowned. 'They're not going to do that, are they?' 'Exactly, my dear! They're going to want this little problem to go away, and the easiest way to do it is to throw money at us. Oh, I think we'll have an offer to settle within a week; the only question is how much we're willing to take. We should discuss that, of course. I was originally thinking of a hundred million dollars, adjusted for current inflation, with an additional royalty on all commercial devices based on the discovered technology, but-' He paused, listening. 'What's that?'
Pat had heard it too, raised voices from outside. She went to the door and looked out. Pete Schneyman was standing there, looking thunderstruck. 'We're invaded,' he announced. 'It's the Feds. They've taken Janice away, and now they want to question all of us.'
Ls soon as Lawyer Hecksher saw what was going on he patted the nearest Pat on the shoulder, and said benevolently, 'I'll take care of this.'
