He prowled the grounds about the cabin with the aimlessness of a man looking for something but not sure what. Beyond the lawn furniture and the shed that contained his tools, the only other interesting thing was the creek. A fast running little stream, barely a foot deep but filled with numerous little holes that bragged of trout. He walked along the gurgling water for a ways, then he went back to the house, still unsure of what to do. He went back to the cabin and shoved the door open and stopped dead! She was just like the painting. Her raven black hair hung loose and free while, beneath the scant confines of the shorts and halter, the warm flesh rose and fell temptingly. Nick stood there, unable to say a word. It was Janet and the light in her eyes made him wonder what kind of a guy he'd been more than ever. She gave a little gasp of pure pleasure and flung herself into his arms, planting the ripe sweetness of her lips squarely on his. "Janet," he managed, but she had a strangle hold on him. CHAPTER NINE "Russian?" Brice asked, looking at Sam Morgan. The dark complected Fed pulled the mangled cigar from his mouth and pointed it toward the twisted wreckage. On the far side, Cartwell and Dickson were looking it over. "Why not?" Morgan asked. "It seems outlandish, somehow." Morgan grinned, his peg-like teeth flashing. "You small town cops are good. I won't take that from you. But you look at everything from a local viewpoint. In our business, you broaden, you might say. "Look at the facts, Nolan. The Defense boys spotted the thing up north. Radar locked on it and gave it a speed of over two thousand miles per. So it crashes and we find no wings, no tail assembly ... and I have the hunch that the damned thing ran on nuclear power." "Atomic?" Nolan whispered, amazed. While the Federal cop talked about nuclear power and fantastic speeds, all Brice could think of was the watch he'd found at the scene. How the hell could an artist learn to pilot a thing like that in a mere thirteen months, and what the hell was behind it all. "You mean, atomic power?" Morgan nodded. "See that funnel shaped gismo over there, with the round ball-like affair?" He was pointing to what was probably the tail of the ship, at least it was not the section that had absorbed the smash into the ground. Nolan nodded. "That's a nuclear reactor," Sam went on. "Uncle Sam doesn't have anything in the air with that kind of power. I think we're testing a few engines, but nothing flying yet." "Then it is Russian?" "That's my guess. No other country would build it. Oh, Great Britain could, but if it was one of theirs, they would have plastered the red and blue targets on it. Offhand, it looks to me like a glorified version of the old U-2 thing, only on their side."