The Puppet Masters Read Online Free PDF Page B

station WDES, Des Moines, the manager’s office.”
    Shortly a screen lighted on his desk; he touched another switch and a solid display in the wall lighted up. We were looking into the room we had been in only a few hours before.
    Looking into it past the shoulders of a man who filled most of the screen—Barnes.
    Or his twin. When I kill a man, I expect him to stay dead. I was shaken but I still believed in myself—and my heater.
    The man in the display said, “You asked for me, Mr. President?” He sounded as if he were dazzled by the honor.
    “Yes, thank you. Mr. Barnes, do you recognize any of these people?”
    He looked surprised. “I’m afraid not. Should I?”
    The Old Man interrupted. “Tell him to call in his office force.”
    The President looked quizzical but did just that. “Barnes” looked puzzled but complied. They trooped in, girls mostly, and I recognized the secretary who sat outside the manager’s door. One of them squealed, “Ooh—it’s the President ,” and they all fell to buzzing.
    None of them identified us—not surprising with the Old Man and me, but Mary’s appearance was just as it had been in that same office, and I will bet that Mary’s looks would be burned into the mind of any woman who had ever seen her.
    But I noticed one thing about them —every single one of them was round-shouldered.
    The President eased us out. He put a hand on the Old Man’s shoulder. “Seriously, Andrew, take that vacation.” He flashed the famous smile. “The Republic won’t fall—I’ll worry it through till you get back.”
    Ten minutes later we were standing in the wind on the Rock Creek platform. The Old Man seemed shrunken and, for the first time, old. “What now, boss?”
    “Eh? For you two, nothing. You are both on leave until recalled.”
    “I’d like to take another look at Barnes’s office.”
    “Don’t go near the place. Stay out of Iowa. That’s an order.”
    “Mmm—what are you going to do, if I may ask?”
    “You heard the President, didn’t you? I am going down to Florida and lie in the sun and wait for the world to go to hell. If you have any sense, you’ll do the same. There’s damned little time.”
    He squared his shoulders and stumped away. I turned to speak to Mary, but she was gone. His advice seemed awfully good, and it had suddenly occurred to me that waiting for the end of the world might not be too bad, with her help.
    I looked around quickly but could not spot her. I trotted off and overtook the Old Man. “Excuse me, Boss. Where did Mary go?”
    “Huh? On leave no doubt. Don’t bother me.”
    I considered trying to relay to her through the Section circuit, when I remembered that I did not know her right name, nor her code, nor her I. D. number. I thought of trying to bull it through by describing her, but that was foolishness. Only Cosmetics Records knows the original appearance of an agent—and they won’t talk. All I knew about her was that she had twice appeared as a redhead, at least once by choice—and that, for my taste, she was “why men fight”. Try punching that into a phone!
    Instead I found a room for the night. After I found it I wondered why I had not left the Capital and gone back to my own apartment. Then I wondered if the blonde were still in it. Then I wondered who the blonde was, anyway? Then I went to sleep.

IV
    I woke up at dusk. The room I was in had a real window—the Section pays well and I could afford little luxuries. I looked out over the Capital as it came to life for the night. The river swept away in a wide bend past the Memorial; it was summer and they were adding fluorescine to the water above the District so the river stood out in curving sweeps of glowing rose and amber and emerald and shining fire. Little pleasure boats cut through the colors, each filled, I had no doubt, with couples up to no good and enjoying it.
    On the land, here and there among the older buildings, the bubble domes were lighting up, giving