owns that part of the world and all the politicians in it.'
'I know that, Uncle. I'm going to give it a try, though. But what I'm really after is the girl — I'm not leaving Australia without Charley.'
Egg smiled then.
Charley Pine had no trouble finding Hedrick's station even though it was night in Australia. She flew west from the lights of Sydney until she spotted the approach lights of Hedrick's private runway. Hedrick had landed there many times in his Boeing jet, so he stood beside her looking out the canopy and gave her rudimentary directions. The ranch headquarters was a huge, sprawling complex a short distance from the runway.
'Land in front of the hangar,' Hedrick directed. 'We'll put it inside.'
She did as she was told.
Once the saucer was on the ground, a crowd quickly gathered. Charley opened the hatch for Hedrick. 'You fly this thing into the hangar,' he told her before he got out. 'Rigby,' he said, with a glance at his man. He jerked his head at Charley, then let himself down through the hatch. Rigby grinned broadly. 'Back into the seat. I'll be standing behind you. One false move and I'll snap your neck like a dry twig.'
'I've waited all my life for a real man like you.' He did stand right behind her. She could smell his breath. As she reached for the controls to lift the saucer to move it, his hands went around her neck. 'Let go of me, you bastard.'
He did release his grip, but his hands hovered there by her shoulders. 'Goose it,' he whispered, his voice urgent. 'Go ahead. I want to see you fly with a broken neck.'
She moved the saucer through the open door into the dark interior, and set it down again.
She killed the reactor and climbed out of the seat. The hatch was still open, so she dropped through it.
Hedrick was on a cell phone. He gestured to a man, who asked her to accompany him. They got in a golf cart and rode a hundred yards or so to the main house, a monstrous structure as big as a hotel. After walking through endless corridors past enough art to fill a medium-sized museum, she was locked in a bedroom without a telephone.
Only then did Charley Pine begin to shake. That passed after a minute or so, leaving her exhausted. She stood at the window, which was two stories above the ground, staring at the lights of the hangar. Finally she lay down on the bed.
Bombing Joe went back to the White House after he finished breakfast. He was glad he did. He got to watch the president have a conversation with the Australian prime minister that tickled the bottom of his heart, though not a trace of his delight showed on his face.
'Mr. Prime Minister, you don't understand,' the president said into the telephone. 'We are not asking you to arrest these people. Oh, no, sir. Merely to detain them for questioning… '
The president listened a bit, looking very sour. 'Yes, sir, we are sure the saucer is there… Our satellite tracking network watched it come out of orbit and enter the Sydney area, where we lost it.'
He frowned.
'Certainly it is the same saucer… I assert to you that it is the same machine. It was tracked from liftoff here to touchdown there… Okay, into the Sydney area… Not touchdown… Indeed, I misspoke. Will you assist us?'
The president listened for almost a minute before he spoke again. 'The United States has extensive military, cultural, and economic relations with Australia. Your country and mine are allies. Why are you being so obtuse?'
The good-byes were short and curt. The president slammed down the phone and glowered at his listeners, the secretary of state, O'Reilly, Bombing Joe, and several aides.
'They won't do anything unless the crew of the saucer violates Australian law. Nothing.'
'What?' O'Reilly was furious. 'He can't
'He just did. He said that other issues, Australian sovereignty issues, were involved. He would not take orders from the American president. He suggested that the American ambassador deliver a note during working hours that sets forth our request and the grounds for it. It will be considered, he said.'
'He brushed you off,' O'Reilly declared, obviously shocked.
'Someone got to him,' the secretary of state said ominously.
'What a day! I don't know about the rest of you people, but I want a drink,' said the president and pushed a button to summon the valet even though the clock on the wall said it was still an hour before noon.
Late that afternoon a large helicopter bearing U.S. Air Force markings circled lazily over Egg Cantrell's farm, then dropped very low over the burned grass on the runway. It hovered over the burned area for a bit before it gently touched down. Three men disembarked.
They examined the burned area on the runway, then separated. One man went up to the house to knock on the door, a second went to the hangar to peer in the windows, and the third examined Egg's other outbuildings.
The helicopter pilot remained in his machine with the blades engaged.
Twelve minutes after landing, the three men climbed back into the helicopter and it lifted off. One of the three got on the radio. 'It was probably here. The hangar is large enough. It contains a lot of junk and antiques, but there is enough room. No one on the premises.'
The man listened to the reply, then motioned for the pilot to fly on.
Rip Cantrell was sitting in a cafeteria in the international terminal of the Los Angeles airport, killing time and sipping a Coke, when Professor Soldi came on the television set mounted high in the corner of the room. The tube had been giving saucer coverage since Rip entered the room an hour ago. Only a few people were paying attention.
Then Professor Soldi appeared on screen, talking about the saucer. 'It is very old, one hundred and forty thousand years, give or take ten thousand. We dug it out of the sandstone.' Some of his photos appeared on the screen. He explained what each of them were.
'So what happened?' the person interviewing him asked.
'To make a long story short, the saucer was flown away by a former United States Air Force test pilot, a Ms. Charlotte Pine, and a seismic exploration worker, a Mr. Rip Cantrell.' He spent several minutes explaining how that came about and what the saucer looked like as it took off.
By now everyone in the room was paying rapt attention to the television, including Rip.
'As you know,' the professor continued, 'I've been a prisoner of the Libyan government for three days, since the incident happened. We were released just hours ago and taken to the airport in Tripoli, where we boarded a plane for Rome. The other people who were prisoners with me are now en route to the United States, but I wanted to get the story out quickly. That is why I stayed behind to be interviewed.'
They talked some more about the saucer, how it worked, how it was discovered.
'Tell me, Professor,' the interviewer said, 'where did this saucer come from?'
'Obviously it was not made on earth,' Soldi said. 'It appears to be a shuttle craft, designed to take people and materials from orbit to the surface of a planet, then back into orbit. Apparently it was abandoned where we found it, abandoned all those years ago.'
'Who left it there?'
'Ah,' the professor said, 'if only we knew. I think a careful study of the machine, and I mean a careful, thorough, analysis of every nut and bolt, every aspect of the device, would suggest some answers.'
'Do you have a theory?'
'Several. But explanations of each of them would take more time than we have.'
'Please share with us the theory that you believe most likely.'
'The saucer is man-made.'
'You mean people like us?'
'I mean our ancestors.'
A murmur ran through the airport crowd that was watching this with Rip. He looked around at the people
