1. The artifacts of alien origin are to be divided into four parts, in a manner to be chosen by the Secretary General, each part to be deposited in an appropriate research facility in one of the four specified regions of the world.
2. All investigations into the nature and functions of these artifacts are to be conducted in the presence of a representative of the United Nations and of each of the nations party to said region.
3. Investigations are to be limited to noninvasive procedures until further notice. It is contemplated that the individual identified as "Doc" is to be present when any dismantling is undertaken, provided the individual is physically able to undertake supervision of said artifacts.
-By Order of the Security Council
But that caused a minor fracas, as one of the Indians announced that the extra babushka was definite Scarecrow technology and, as no one else had claimed it, it should be awarded to China for India to share.
Colonel duValier laughed at that. "You want to try to take it away from him?" he sneered.
"Of course it must be taken from him," the Indian replied indignantly. And, when no one volunteered for the job, she reached for it herself.
Well, Hilda could have told the woman that that was a mistake, but by the time Hilda opened her mouth to warn her it was too late. The Doc's eyes sprang open; one of his great upper limbs pushed the Indian delegate out of the way-not violently, but not gently, either. The woman went flying. The Doc didn't look after her. He turned and plodded away in the direction of the parked American aircraft. His armed guards raised their weapons in bafflement, but someone shouted, "For Christ's sake, don't shoot the thing!" The Doc paid no attention to that threat, either, simply strode along with the one metal scarf on his head and the other still clutched in one arm.
"So," the deputy director said pleasantly, to no one in particular, "I guess that settles that."
It did, of course-though, of course, everyone around began arguing vociferously. Hilda didn't wait to take part in the renewed bickering. She hurried after the Doc, now stolidly climbing the steps into the deputy director's jet.
By the time she got inside the Doc was in the lounge, and he was no longer in standby mode. He had commandeered some of the aircraft's monogrammed notepaper and was busily filling pages of it with his meticulous drawings. The crew was passing them around interestedly until one of them caught sight of Hilda, with the deputy director behind her. Then they passed them over to higher authority.
Hilda puzzled over them. The first sketch showed the two Docs together, both wearing shawls over their heads. The second one showed both Docs in what was recognizably a hospital room, one of them doing something surgical to the head of the other. A human woman, actually a quite good likeness of Dr. Marsha Evergood, was standing by. And in the last drawing the former surgeon Doc was himself being operated on, and Dr. Evergood was doing the surgery.
The deputy director looked up at Hilda. "I think," he said judiciously, "that he's trying to tell us he wants to go back to Walter Reed Hospital."
"Well, yes," she said, suddenly thoughtful. "But what's this one here?"
She was pointing to a drawing that showed a human being next to a very peculiar creature. It wasn't a Scarecrow, nor was it any of the Seven Ugly Space Dwarfs. It looked a little bit like some ancient dinosaur, one of the long-necked, long-tailed ones that they called apatosaurus, but it was standing on two legs, and its rubbery neck was hovering menacingly over the human.
"Yes, well," Marcus Pell said, sounding unhappy, "I was wondering about that myself. The man looks kind of like Dan Dannerman, doesn't he?"
"He does. And that other thing-could it one of those things Dopey calls a Horch?"
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
All the way down on the early flight to Arlington Dannerman was pondering the question: Should he tell Hilda Morrisey that he and Anita Berman were getting married? Or maybe he should just lay the ultimatum on her: either she got his back pay for him, so he could have some kind of decent life, or he quit the Bureau.
Well, she wasn't at the headquarters. She was off at Walter Reed Hospital, and when he tracked her down there she was standing on the loading dock, giving urgent orders to a flock of serious-looking junior agents, and she wasn't interested in his problems. "Resign? Bullshit, Danno. State of emergency; nobody's quitting; I tried the same thing myself. But as long as you're here you might as well be useful."