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the tape from the van。
When it was finished； he said； 〃Strangest damned thing I ever heard；〃 and played it over again。 While he did so； he carefully filled his pipe with tobacco； lit it； and tamped it down。
Arthur Manchek was an engineer； a quiet heavyset man plagued by labile hypertension； which threatened to end further promotions as an Army officer。 He had been advised on many occasions to lose weight； but had been unable to do so。 He was therefore considering abandoning the Army for a career as a scientist in private industry； where people did not care what your weight or blood pressure was。
Manchek had e to Vandenberg from Wright Patterson in Ohio； where he had been in charge of experiments in spacecraft landing methods。 His job had been to develop a capsule shape that could touch down with equal safety on either land or sea。 Manchek had succeeded in developing three new shapes that were promising； his success led to a promotion and transfer to Vandenberg。
Here he did administrative work； and hated it。 People bored Manchek； the mechanics of manipulation and the vagaries of subordinate personality held no fascination for him。 He often wished he were back at the wind tunnels of Wright Patterson。
Particularly on nights when he was called out of bed by some damn fool problem。
Tonight he felt irritable； and under stress。 His reaction to this was characteristic： he became slow。 He moved slowly； he thought slowly； he proceeded with a dull and plodding deliberation。 It was the secret of his success。 Whenever people around him became excited； Manchek seemed to grow more disinterested； until he appeared about to fall asleep。 It was a trick he had for remaining totally objective and clearheaded。
Now he sighed and puffed on his pipe as the tape spun out for the second time。
〃No munications breakdown； I take it？〃
roe shook his head。 〃We checked all systems at this end。 We are still monitoring the frequency。〃 He turned on the radio； and hissing static filled the room。 〃You know about the audio screen？〃
〃Vaguely；〃 Manchek said； suppressing a yawn。 In fact； the audio screen was a system he had developed three years before。 In simplest terms； it was a puterized way to find a needle in a haystack a machine program that listened to apparently garbled； random sound and picked out certain irregularities。 For example； the hubbub of conversation at an embassy cocktail party could be recorded and fed through the puter； which would pick out a single voice and separate it from the rest。
It had several intelligence applications。
〃Well；〃 roe said； 〃after the transmission ended； we got nothing but the static you hear now。 We put it through the audio screen； to see if the puter could pick up a pattern。 And we ran it through the oscilloscope in the corner。〃
Across the room； the green face of the scope displayed a jagged dancing white line the summated sound of static。
〃Then；〃 roe said； 〃we cut in the puter。 Like so。〃
He punched a button on his desk console。 The oscilloscope line changed character abruptly。 It suddenly became quieter； more regular； with a pattern of beating； thumping impulses。
〃I see；〃 Manchek said。 He had； in fact； already identified the pattern and assessed its meaning。 His mind was drifting elsewhere； considering other possibilities； wider ramifications。
〃Here's the audio；〃 roe said。 He pressed another button and the audio version of the signal filled the room。 It was a steady mechanical grinding with a repetitive metallic click。
Manchek nodded。 〃An engine。 With a knock。〃
〃Yes sir。 We believe the van radio is still broadcasting； and that the engine is still running。 That's what we're hearing now； with the static screened away。〃
〃All right；〃 Manchek said。
His pipe went out。 He sucked on it for a moment； then lit it again； removed it from his mouth； and plucked a bit of tobacco from his tongue。
〃We need evidence；〃 he said； almost to himself。 He was considering categories of evidence； and possible findings； contingencies。。。
〃Evidence of what？〃 roe said。
Manchek ignored the question。 〃Have we got a Scavenger on the base？
〃I'm not sure； sir。 If we don't； we can get one from Edwards。〃
〃Then do it。〃 Manchek stood up。 He had made his decision； and now he felt tired again。 An evening of telephone calls faced him； an evening of irritable operators and bad connections and puzzled voices at the other end。
〃We'll want a flyby over that town；〃 he said。 〃A plete scan。 All canisters to e directly。 Alert the labs。〃
He also ordered roe to bring in the technicians； especially Jaggers。 Manchek disliked Jaggers； who was effete and precious。 But Manchek also knew that Jaggers was good； and tonight he needed a good man。
***
At 11：07 p。m。； Samuel 〃Gunner〃 Wilson was moving at 645 miles per hour over the Mojave Desert。 Up ahead in the moonlight； he saw the twin lead jets； their afterburners glowing angrily in the night sky。 The planes had a heavy； pregnant look： phosphorus bombs were slung beneath the wings and belly。
Wilson's plane was different； sleek and long and black。 It was a Scavenger； one of seven in the world。
The Scavenger was the operational version of the X…18。 It was an intermediate…range reconnaissance jet aircraft fully equipped for day or night intelligence flights。 It was fitted with two side…slung 16mm cameras； one for the visible spectrum； and one for low…frequency radiation。 In addition it had a center…mount Homans infrared multispex camera as well as the usual electronic and radio…detection gear。 All films and plates were； of course； processed automatically in the air； and were ready for viewing as soon as the aircraft returned to base。
All this technology made the Scavenger almost impossibly sensitive。 It could map the outlines of a city in blackout； and could follow the movements of individual trucks and cars at eight thousand feet。 It could detect a submarine to a depth of two hundred feet。 It could locate harbor mines by wave…motion deformities and it could obtain a precise photograph of a factory from the residual heat of the building four hours after it had shut down。
So the Scavenger was the ideal instrument to fly over Piedmont； Arizona； in the dead of night。
Wilson carefully checked his equipment； his hands fluttering over the controls； touching each button and lever； watching the blinking green lights that indicated that all systems were in order。
His earphones crackled。 The lead plane said lazily； 〃ing up on the town； Gunner。 You see it？〃
He leaned forward in the cramped cockpit。 He was low； only five hundred feet above the ground； and for a moment he could see nothing but a blur of sand； snow； and yucca trees。 Then； up ahead； buildings in the moonlight。
〃Roger。 I see it。〃
〃Okay； Gunner。 Give us room。〃
He dropped back； putting half a mile between himself and the other two planes。 They were going into the P…square formation； for direct visualization of target by phosphorus flare。 Direct visualization was not really necessar