Stinger

Danny Chaffin, a somber-faced young man of twenty-two whose father, Vic, owned the Ice House, had just finished telling Sheriff Vance that his calls had turned up nothing about helicopters when they both heard the metallic chattering of rotors.



They ran out of the office and were caught in the teeth of a dust storm. "Christ a'mighty!" Vance shouted - because he'd seen the dark shape of the helicopter descending right in Preston Park. Red Hinton, passing by in his pickup truck on Celeste Street, almost swerved into the front window of Ida Younger's House of Beauty. Mavis Lockridge emerged from the Boots 'n Plenty shoestore, shielding her face with a scarf. People peered out the windows of the bank building, and Vance knew the elderly loungers who sat around in front of the Ice House catching breezes were probably running for their lives.



He strode toward the park, Danny right behind him. The fierce wind and the whirling dust died down after a few more seconds, but the helicopter's rotors continued to slowly turn. Now more people were coming out of the stores, and Vance figured the unholy racket was going to draw everybody in town. Dogs were barking fit to bust. as the dust settled, Vance could see the gray-green paint job on the helicopter and also pick out some lettering: WeBB aFB.



"I thought you called Webb!" Vance snapped at Danny.



"I did! They said they weren't flyin' any 'copters over this way!" "Well, they lied through their teeth! Hold on, here comes somebody!" He saw two figures approaching, both of them tall and lean. Vance and Danny met them just shy of the mule's statue.



One of them, a young man who looked like he spent all his time indoors, wore a dark blue air-force uniform and a cap with an officer's insignia. The second man, older, with a black crewcut going gray at the temples, was tanned and fit looking, and he was dressed in well-worn jeans and a beige knit shirt. a pilot remained at the helicopter's controls. Vance said to the officer, "What can I do for - " "We need to talk," the man in blue jeans spoke up. He spoke crisply, accustomed to taking control. He wore aviator-style sunglasses, and behind them his eyes had already noted Vance's badge. "You're the sheriff here, righti" "That's right. Sheriff ed Vance." He held out his hand. "Pleased to meet - " "Sheriff, where can we speak in privatei" the young officer asked. The other man did not meet Vance's grip, and Vance blinked with confusion and then let his hand drop.



"Uh... my office. This way." He led them across the park, sweat already surfacing on the back of his shirt and ringing his armpits.



When they were inside the office, the younger air-force man took a notebook from his trouser pocket and flipped it open. "The mayor here is Johnny Bretti" "Yeah." Vance saw other names written in the notebook too - among them his own. He realized somebody had done a lot of homework on Inferno. "He's the fire chief too." "He needs to be present. Will you call him, pleasei" "Do it," Vance said to Danny, and settled himself in his chair behind his desk. These men were giving him the creeps; their backs were as straight as iron rods, and they looked to be holding themselves at attention just standing there. "Brett's office is in the bank buildin'," Vance offered. "He's probably already seen all the commotion." There was no reaction from either of them. "Mind lettin' me know what this is all about, gentsi" The older man walked to the door that led to the cell block and peered through its glass inset; there were only three cells, all empty. "We need your help with something, Sheriff." His accent was less Texan than midwestern. He removed his sunglasses, showing deep-set eyes that were a cool, clear pale gray. "Sorry to make such a dramatic entrance." He smiled, and his face and body relaxed. "Sometimes we air-force folks kind of play it to the hilt and beyond." "Sure, I understand." He didn't, really. "No harm done." "Mayor Brett's on his way over," Danny reported, hanging up the phone.



"Sheriff, about how many people live herei" the younger officer asked; he had taken off his cap, revealing close-cropped light brown hair. His eyes were about the same color, and he had a spill of freckles across his nose and cheeks. Vance figured he was no older than twenty-five, while the other man was maybe in his early forties.



"Close to two thousand, I reckon," he answered. "about another five or six hundred in Bordertown. That's across the river." "Yes sir. No newspaper herei" "Used to have one. It shut up shop a couple of years ago." He angled around in his chair to watch the older man approach the glass-fronted gun cabinet, which held two shotguns, a pair of Winchester repeating rifles, a hogleg Colt .45 in a calfskin gunbelt, and a Snubnose .38 in a shoulder holster along with boxes of the appropriate ammunition.



"You've got quite an arsenal here," the man said. "Do you ever have to use all this firepoweri" "Never can tell when you'll have need of it. One of the shotguns'll pump out tear-gas shells." His voice swelled with fatherly pride, since he'd fought the town council tooth and nail for the funds to buy it. "Livin' with Mexicans so close, you got to be ready for anythin'." "I see," the man said.



Johnny Brett came in, puffing from his sprint. He was a barrel-chested man of forty-nine who had once been a shift foreman on the rock crushers at the copper mine, and he carried with him a sense of harried weariness. He had eyes like those of an often-kicked hound dog, and he was fully aware of Mack Cade's power in the community; he was on Cade's payroll, just as Vance was. He nodded nervously at the two air-force men and, clearly out of his depth, waited for them to speak.



"I'm Colonel Matt Rhodes," the older man told him, "and this is my aide, Captain David Gunniston. I apologize for dropping in as we did, but this can't wait." He looked at his watch. "about three hours ago, a seven-ton meteor entered earth's atmosphere and struck approximately fifteen miles south-southwest of your town. We tracked it down on radar and we thought most of it would burn up. It didn't." He glanced at both the sheriff and mayor in turn. "So we've got a visitor from deep space lying not too far from here, and that means we have a security problem." "a meteor!" Vance grinned excitedly. "You're joshin'!" Colonel Rhodes fixed him with a steady, level gaze. "I never josh," he said coolly. "Here's the kicker: our friend's putting out some heat. It's radioactive, and - " "Lord!" Brett gasped.



" - and the radiation will probably move across this area," Rhodes continued. "Which is not to say that it poses an immediate threat to anybody, but it'd be best for people to stay indoors as much as possible." "Day as hot as this is, most folks'll stay indoors for sure," Vance said, and frowned. "Uh... will this stuff cause canceri" "I don't think the radiation levels will be critically high in this area. Our weather forecaster says the winds will take most of it to the south, over the Chinati Mountains. But we've got to ask your help in something else, gentlemen. The air force has to get our visitor out of this area and to a secured location. I'll be in charge of the transfer." His gaze ticked to a clock on the wall. "at fourteen hundred hours - that's two o'clock - I'm expecting two tractor-trailer trucks. One of them will be hauling a crane, and the other will be marked 'allied Van Lines.' They'll have to pass through your town in order to reach the impact position. Once there, my crew will start the process of breaking up the meteor to get it loaded and moved out. If all goes as planned, we'll be gone by twenty-four hundred hours." "Twelve midnight," Danny said; he'd wanted to join the army before his father had talked him out of it, and he knew military time.



"Right. So what I have to ask of you gentlemen is to help with the security arrangements," Rhodes went on. "Webb's gotten all sorts of calls from people who saw the meteor pass over Lubbock, Odessa, and Fort Stockton - but of course it was too high for them to tell what it was, and they're reporting seeing a UFO." He smiled again, and pulled nervous smiles from the deputy, sheriff, and mayor. "Par for the course, isn't iti" "Sure is!" Vance agreed. "Betcha them flying-saucer nuts are comin' out of the woodwork!" "Yes." The colonel's smile slipped just a fraction, but none of them noticed. "They are. anyway, we don't want civilians interfering with the work, and we sure as hell don't need the press prowling around. The air force doesn't want to be responsible for any news hound getting a dose of radiation. Sheriff, can you and the mayor keep a tight lid on this situation for usi" "Yes sir!" Vance said heartily. "Just tell us what we need to do!" "Firstly, I want you to discourage any sightseers. Of course, we'll have our own security perimeter set up on-site, but I don't want anyone coming out there to gawk. Secondly, I want you to emphasize the radiation danger; not that it's necessarily true, but it wouldn't hurt to scare people a little bit. Keeps them from getting underfoot, righti" "Right," Vance agreed.



"Thirdly, I don't want any media people anywhere near that site." The colonel's eyes were chilly again. "We'll be patrolling with our 'copters, but if you get any calls from the media I want you to handle them. Webb's not giving out any information. I want you to play dumb too. as I say, we don't need civilians in the area. Cleari" "Clear as glass." "Good. Then I think that does it. Gunny, do you have any questionsi" "Just one, sir." Gunniston turned another page in his notebook. "Sheriff Vance, who owns a light green pickup truck marked 'Inferno animal Hospital'i The license is Texas six-two - " "Dr. Jessie," Vance told him. "Jessica Hammond, I mean. She's the vet." Gunniston produced a pen and wrote the name down. "Whyi" "We saw the truck being towed in the area of the meteor's impact," Colonel Rhodes said. "It was taken to the Texaco station a couple of streets over. Dr. Hammond probably saw the object go past, and we wanted to check on her." "She's real nice. Smart lady too. I'm tellin' you, she's not afraid to do anything a man vet wouldn't - " "Thanks." Gunniston returned the pen and notebook to his pocket. "We'll take it from here." "Sure thing. You fellas need some more help, you just ask." Rhodes and Gunniston were moving toward the door, their business done. "We will," Rhodes said. "again, sorry about all the commotion." "Don't worry about it. Hell, you gave everybody somethin' to jaw about at the dinner table!" "Not much jawing, I hope." "Oh. Right. Don't you worry about a thing. You can count on ed Vance, yes sir!" "I know we can. Thank you, Sheriff." Rhodes shook Vance's hand, and for an instant the sheriff thought his knuckles were going to explode. Then Rhodes released him and Vance was left with a sickly smile on his face as the two air-force officers left the building and strode out into the hot white light.



"Wow." Vance massaged his aching fingers. "Fella don't look as strong as he is." "Man, wait'll I tell Doris about this!" Mayor Brett's voice was shaking and thrilled. "I met a real colonel! Lordy, she won't believe a word of it!" Danny walked to a window and peered out through the blind; he watched the two men moving away, heading toward Republica Road. He frowned thoughtfully and picked at a hangnail. "Object," he said.



"Huhi You say somethin', Danny boyi" "Object." Danny turned toward Vance and Brett. He had sorted out what bothered him. "That colonel said Dr. Hammond probably saw the 'object' go past. How come he didn't say 'meteor'i" Vance paused. His face was blank, his thought processes unhurried. "Same thing, ain't iti" he finally asked.



"Yes sir. I guess. I just wonder why he put it that way." "Well, you ain't paid to wonder, Danny boy. We've got our orders from the United States air Force, and we'll do just what Colonel Rhodes says do." Danny nodded and returned to his desk.



"Met a real air-force colonel!" Mayor Brett said. "Lordy, I'd better get back to my office in case people call and want to know what all the ruckus is. Think that'd be a good ideai" Vance agreed that it would be, and Johnny Brett hurried out the door and just about ran to the bank building, where the electric sign spelled out 87�ãF. at ten-nineteen.