MYSTERY AT MESA FLAT By Ivar Jorgensen A small desert town didn't seem a likely place to encounter murder--especially one that had been planned on a world light years away! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy June 1956 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] The murder was committed ten minutes before the Otarkian ship lifted for the long trip back to the mother-planet. It was discovered ten minutes after blast off. The killer--a great lout of an upper-hillman, signed on the last moment to fill a sudden vacancy--bragged of the kill to his sergeant. Bragged grinning. "He was crouched behind a rock peeking out at the ship. I came behind him--very quiet. I broke his neck and--and did other things. He never knew what happened." The guard was rushed immediately before the Commander--into the dread Presence. The Commander's eyes were terrible but his voice remained soft. "You know by what a slim thread our invasion plans hang?" "Yes, Commander." "You know that utter secrecy has been our key from the start?" "Yes, Commander." "I just wanted to make sure before I execute you in the name of the Supreme Otarkian Council." "Yes, Commander." The Commander drew his gun and aimed accurately. The guard died bravely. And that was that. But there was worry. The Commander consulted with the Second. "It would be wise to return." The Second calculated time. "It would be high noon back there before we could set down." "We could wait for darkness." "True." "But fifteen hours of daylight would have elapsed." "It is a lonely place." "But if a trap were set." The Second considered. "When the body is discovered--what will it reveal? Nothing definite. No chain of logic could point to us." The Commander frowned. "But success depends so completely upon secrecy. If the experiment is successful--" "It will be, sir." "I hope so. Hold your course for home...." * * * * * The body of Mack Styles was found at two o'clock that afternoon. By Tom Brazier and Frank Brooks, in a secluded spot on the Arizona desert. After he hadn't reported in they had gone out in a jeep to check up. They saw Mack's jeep nosing up out of a pocket as though peering at a white alkali flat just beyond. They rounded the pocket and found Mack and both of them got suddenly sick and strove to hide their shock from each other. Brazier said, "Jesus!" The word was both a curse and a prayer. "What could have hit him?" "Look at his legs. Broken--mangled. Like through a machine!" "A gorilla could do that."