“I remember the Arnold case. That was the first sighting.” “You’ve got contacts in Washington,” Purdy went on. “Start at the Pentagon first. They know we’re working on it. Sam Boal, the first man on this job, was down there for a day or two.” “What did he find out?” “Symington told him the saucers were bunk. Secretary Johnson admitted they had some pictures—we’d heard about a secret photograph taken at Harmon Field, Newfoundland. The tip said this saucer scared hell out of some pilots and Air Force men up there. “A major took Boal to some Air Force colonel and Boal asked to see the pictures. The colonel said they didn’t have any. He turned red when the major said Symington had told Boal about the pictures.” “Did Boal get to see them?” I said. “No,” grunted Purdy, “and I’ll bet twenty bucks you won’t, either. But try, anyway. And check on a rumor that they’ve tracked some disks with radar. One case was supposed to be at an Air Force base in Japan.” As I was leaving, Purdy gave me a summary of sighting reports. “Some of these were published, some we dug up ourselves,” he said. “We got some confidential stuff from airline pilots. It’s pretty obvious the Air Force has tried to keep them quiet.” “All right,” I said. “I’ll get started. Maybe things aren’t sewed up so tightly, now this report is out.” “We’ve found out some things about Project ‘Saucer,’ said Purdy. “Whether it’s a cover-up or a real investigation, there’s a lot of hush-hush business to it. They’ve got astronomers and astrophysicists working for them, also rocket expects, technical analysts, and Air Force Special Intelligence. We’ve been told they can call on any government agency for help—and I know they’re using the F.B.I.” It was building up bigger than I had thought. “If national security is involved,” I told Purdy, “they can shut us up in a hurry.” “If they tell me so, O.K.,” said Purdy. He added grimly, “But I think they’re making a bad mistake. They probably think they’re doing what’s right. But the truth might come out the wrong way.” “It is possible,” I thought, “that the saucers belong to Russia.” “If it turns out to be a Soviet missile, count me out,” I said. “We’d have the Pentagon and the F.B.I. on our necks.” “All right, if that’s the answer.” He chuckled. “But you may be in for a jolt.” CHAPTER III Just the idea of gigantic flying disks was incredible enough. It was almost as hard to believe that such missiles could have been developed without something leaking out. Yet we had produced the A-bomb in comparative secrecy, and I knew we were working on long-range guided missiles. There was already a plan for a three-thousand-mile test range. Our supersonic planes had hit around two thousand miles an hour. Our two-stage rockets had gone over two hundred miles high, according to reports. If an atomic engine had been secretly developed, it could explain the speed and range of the saucers.