Except for the night-critters talking to each other about how man was changing their favourite coastline into a haven for the
wealthy, the early hours of the Florida night was just like any other. Then with a squelch of a single metallic foot on the dew
-damp soil, an oddly-looking machine appeared next to a shadowed sweetbay magnolia.
Mucklebones held out an object she'd taken from under her poncho and held it aloft, the crow-skull told her no dangers were
afoot and the coast was clear -if you pardon the pun. "It's as quiet as the grave" she assured the three men behind her with
hushed tones.
Climbing out of the craft, they all surveyed Robert Lovett's premises. Tibbs panned the open space between the bushes next
to the outer-wall and the large house on the other side of the lawn. As his wife had stated, all was quiet.
The Vithian in the brown robes whispered that their approach should be based on a friendly-aspect and that Robert Lovett
should be questioned in the manner his station deserved.
Lovett had served as Under Secretary of State and unknown to the slightly-bald and thin-faced man, he would also work
as a Secretary of Defence, the current position of James Forrestal. Tibbs hoped that his stern features during his address
would convince his companions that a mature, well-balanced contact would be the best way to go.
After all, it was three o'clock in the morning and this particular band of merry universe-rescuers wasn't something a human
would appreciate when coming out of a deep sleep.
Ninurta pulled his pistol and fell away to undertake his surveillance. He'd pondered on whether to bring the rifle, but after a
quick glance at his immediate surroundings, decided the long weapon could also be an hindrance.
Mucklebones watched the Gunman's silent movements in the dark and smiled to herself as she stood beside her husband.
It was something she admired and even with the background sounds of cicadas trying to out-do the crickets in their nightly
serenade, there was no snapped-twig or shoulder-jostled bush that alerted the Witch of Ninurta's direction.
Boy In A Dress stayed near the time-machine and contemplated the four fireflies enjoying a respite in his cleavage.
Stepping out onto the cool grass of the lawn, Tibbs reminded his two fellow-raiders that respect can bring its own rewards.
.........................................
Robert Lovett stared at the man that had put him against the wall and gulped, it was like looking into the eyes of a hungry wolf.
"I...he..." Lovett stammered and felt the his pyjama-top tighten as he struggled in the grip of the stranger.
"He said there were foreign-looking men following him..." he blurted and turned his frightened gaze from the ice-chips under the
wide-brimmed hat towards the little fellow with the beard. "...He's a crazy-man!" he admitted loudly.
Lovett couldn't understand it, the money he paid the security people to keep out the public from his beach-side residence and
this gang of rag-tag lunatics just wander in. Two guys, a girl and some old woman who kept to the shadows. Christ, he should've
gone to Freeport he thought to himself.
Ninurta -not one for appreciating poor decision-making, swanky houses on the Florida coast or jaunts to an island, kept Lovett
against the wall and a foot off the ground for a while longer, there was more he reckoned.
Tibbs nodded slowly and then asked the original question again. "When Mr. Forrestal was here, did Stuart Symington ring you?"
Robert Lovett's face showed his puzzlement at the query, why was that damned-important to the dwarf with the beard?
Symington had always been at loggerheads with Forrestal, even after their argument about military spending. Hell, it was well
known around D.C that the Secretary of the Air Force wanted Forrestal's job anyway.
The gaunt Lovett dangled in his bewilderment and in his bedroom, the thug in the cowboy hat made sure of that.
"Yes..." he finally confessed, "Yes he called here" Lovett admitted and felt the chest-aching grip ease. Even if the menacing-look
from the gun-toting stranger didn't.
Tibbs stood for a moment in deep-thought and then walked to the telephone, the Vithian's trusty handset scanned the bakelite
instrument resting on -what Tibbs was sure was a lacquered chinoiserie coffee table. One of a pair, he noticed as he read the
device's results.
"Okay my dearest..." Tibbs said softly and ignored Lovett's gasps of horror as Mucklebones stepped out of the gloom near
the bedroom window. "...Do your thing" her husband advised as he pulled a small cord from the side of his handset and placed
it onto the side of the clunky-looking telephone.
The Witch of Carbiox stood beside the taller Gunslinger and gazed at the terrified human pinned to the wall. A slight 'feel' of his
mind told her this might not be the first time Lovett had encountered an alien. Something -she told herself, that she had to recall
to tell her man later.
"Mother-of-God!" Lovett exclaimed as Muckles' long fingers neared his sweating face and saucer-like eyes, one of them must
have escaped from the Aztec crash -he thought to himself in his torment. "Not quite-like, but Ah' do hope that me-maternal instincts
will be used before Ah' get old" Mucklebones said softly and ignored the smirk from the Vandalian beside her.
As Robert Lovett fell back to sleep and ran through meadows of bluebonnet flowers that flourished around his childhood home
of Huntsville Texas, his last intelligible thoughts were of something he'd heard during his early-years in Washington. Something
about a different type of alien.
But the Summer's day called and Robert, the skinny kid in the grey short-pants had grasshoppers to catch.
"Damn it..." the caller snapped "...I warned him not to meddle". It had been the ninth recent call made to the Lovett estate and Tibbs
was certain it was Symington. Robert Lovett had replied something about Forrestal's strange comments in respects to an invasion
and being followed by unknown people. The Vithian could tell that Lovett -the sleeping man now laid back in his bed, was attempting
to keep his voice non-judgemental.
"He's been ranting about a take-over, a coup from within..." Lovett had said and as Tibbs tweaked a knob on his handset, he could've
sworn he'd heard another voice behind the caller's angry tirade, it was only there for a moment, but screwing-up his eyes in
concentration and replaying it, Tibbs was fairly sure it held a female's inflection.
Stuart Symington hissed a sigh into the antiquated microphone, Forrestal was becoming more than just a crazy nuicance.
"Maybe his stay in Bethesda will solve our dilemma" he'd said with a resigned tone and was about to hang-up when Lovett inquired
"our dilemma?"
Tibbs watched Ninurta during his telephonic-monitoring and resisted the distraction, something was bothering the tall man standing
near the window. "Er... I mean that James could be an embarrassment, yeah... that's what I meant" Symington replied with a note
of anxiety in his voice.
"That's what I meant, Bob" he reiterated and Tibbs wondered if Robert Lovett had realised then that his paranoid friend trapped in a
Maryland Hospital may have had good cause to think something was wrong.
Ninurta's pistol was drawn from its holster again and hearing the click off the call being terminated, Tibbs quickly packed the cord and
his handset back into the pocket of his robes. Something was bothering the GunMan.
wealthy, the early hours of the Florida night was just like any other. Then with a squelch of a single metallic foot on the dew
-damp soil, an oddly-looking machine appeared next to a shadowed sweetbay magnolia.
Mucklebones held out an object she'd taken from under her poncho and held it aloft, the crow-skull told her no dangers were
afoot and the coast was clear -if you pardon the pun. "It's as quiet as the grave" she assured the three men behind her with
hushed tones.
Climbing out of the craft, they all surveyed Robert Lovett's premises. Tibbs panned the open space between the bushes next
to the outer-wall and the large house on the other side of the lawn. As his wife had stated, all was quiet.
The Vithian in the brown robes whispered that their approach should be based on a friendly-aspect and that Robert Lovett
should be questioned in the manner his station deserved.
Lovett had served as Under Secretary of State and unknown to the slightly-bald and thin-faced man, he would also work
as a Secretary of Defence, the current position of James Forrestal. Tibbs hoped that his stern features during his address
would convince his companions that a mature, well-balanced contact would be the best way to go.
After all, it was three o'clock in the morning and this particular band of merry universe-rescuers wasn't something a human
would appreciate when coming out of a deep sleep.
Ninurta pulled his pistol and fell away to undertake his surveillance. He'd pondered on whether to bring the rifle, but after a
quick glance at his immediate surroundings, decided the long weapon could also be an hindrance.
Mucklebones watched the Gunman's silent movements in the dark and smiled to herself as she stood beside her husband.
It was something she admired and even with the background sounds of cicadas trying to out-do the crickets in their nightly
serenade, there was no snapped-twig or shoulder-jostled bush that alerted the Witch of Ninurta's direction.
Boy In A Dress stayed near the time-machine and contemplated the four fireflies enjoying a respite in his cleavage.
Stepping out onto the cool grass of the lawn, Tibbs reminded his two fellow-raiders that respect can bring its own rewards.
.........................................
Robert Lovett stared at the man that had put him against the wall and gulped, it was like looking into the eyes of a hungry wolf.
"I...he..." Lovett stammered and felt the his pyjama-top tighten as he struggled in the grip of the stranger.
"He said there were foreign-looking men following him..." he blurted and turned his frightened gaze from the ice-chips under the
wide-brimmed hat towards the little fellow with the beard. "...He's a crazy-man!" he admitted loudly.
Lovett couldn't understand it, the money he paid the security people to keep out the public from his beach-side residence and
this gang of rag-tag lunatics just wander in. Two guys, a girl and some old woman who kept to the shadows. Christ, he should've
gone to Freeport he thought to himself.
Ninurta -not one for appreciating poor decision-making, swanky houses on the Florida coast or jaunts to an island, kept Lovett
against the wall and a foot off the ground for a while longer, there was more he reckoned.
Tibbs nodded slowly and then asked the original question again. "When Mr. Forrestal was here, did Stuart Symington ring you?"
Robert Lovett's face showed his puzzlement at the query, why was that damned-important to the dwarf with the beard?
Symington had always been at loggerheads with Forrestal, even after their argument about military spending. Hell, it was well
known around D.C that the Secretary of the Air Force wanted Forrestal's job anyway.
The gaunt Lovett dangled in his bewilderment and in his bedroom, the thug in the cowboy hat made sure of that.
"Yes..." he finally confessed, "Yes he called here" Lovett admitted and felt the chest-aching grip ease. Even if the menacing-look
from the gun-toting stranger didn't.
Tibbs stood for a moment in deep-thought and then walked to the telephone, the Vithian's trusty handset scanned the bakelite
instrument resting on -what Tibbs was sure was a lacquered chinoiserie coffee table. One of a pair, he noticed as he read the
device's results.
"Okay my dearest..." Tibbs said softly and ignored Lovett's gasps of horror as Mucklebones stepped out of the gloom near
the bedroom window. "...Do your thing" her husband advised as he pulled a small cord from the side of his handset and placed
it onto the side of the clunky-looking telephone.
The Witch of Carbiox stood beside the taller Gunslinger and gazed at the terrified human pinned to the wall. A slight 'feel' of his
mind told her this might not be the first time Lovett had encountered an alien. Something -she told herself, that she had to recall
to tell her man later.
"Mother-of-God!" Lovett exclaimed as Muckles' long fingers neared his sweating face and saucer-like eyes, one of them must
have escaped from the Aztec crash -he thought to himself in his torment. "Not quite-like, but Ah' do hope that me-maternal instincts
will be used before Ah' get old" Mucklebones said softly and ignored the smirk from the Vandalian beside her.
As Robert Lovett fell back to sleep and ran through meadows of bluebonnet flowers that flourished around his childhood home
of Huntsville Texas, his last intelligible thoughts were of something he'd heard during his early-years in Washington. Something
about a different type of alien.
But the Summer's day called and Robert, the skinny kid in the grey short-pants had grasshoppers to catch.
"Damn it..." the caller snapped "...I warned him not to meddle". It had been the ninth recent call made to the Lovett estate and Tibbs
was certain it was Symington. Robert Lovett had replied something about Forrestal's strange comments in respects to an invasion
and being followed by unknown people. The Vithian could tell that Lovett -the sleeping man now laid back in his bed, was attempting
to keep his voice non-judgemental.
"He's been ranting about a take-over, a coup from within..." Lovett had said and as Tibbs tweaked a knob on his handset, he could've
sworn he'd heard another voice behind the caller's angry tirade, it was only there for a moment, but screwing-up his eyes in
concentration and replaying it, Tibbs was fairly sure it held a female's inflection.
Stuart Symington hissed a sigh into the antiquated microphone, Forrestal was becoming more than just a crazy nuicance.
"Maybe his stay in Bethesda will solve our dilemma" he'd said with a resigned tone and was about to hang-up when Lovett inquired
"our dilemma?"
Tibbs watched Ninurta during his telephonic-monitoring and resisted the distraction, something was bothering the tall man standing
near the window. "Er... I mean that James could be an embarrassment, yeah... that's what I meant" Symington replied with a note
of anxiety in his voice.
"That's what I meant, Bob" he reiterated and Tibbs wondered if Robert Lovett had realised then that his paranoid friend trapped in a
Maryland Hospital may have had good cause to think something was wrong.
Ninurta's pistol was drawn from its holster again and hearing the click off the call being terminated, Tibbs quickly packed the cord and
his handset back into the pocket of his robes. Something was bothering the GunMan.
Edith Head Gives Good Wardrobe.