Chapter 4

“UFO Spotted In N.C. town” read the headline at the bottom of the page. In smaller type, a subhead blurted, “Alien invasion predicted.”

Peabody carefully highlighted the article on his computer screen and printed it out. He placed the short article in a folder, and reached for his coffee cup when a mechanical voice blared, “Peabody, get in here.”

He put his coffee down, grabbed the folder and opened a handsomely polished walnut door upon which was inscribed an ornate “CC” in gold. He closed it softly behind him, but the man sitting behind an immense polished desk didn’t bother to look up from the computer screen he was studying.

“Peabody,” he growled, “what’s the latest?”

“Mr. Carrington, I’ve got three.”

“Well, don’t just stand there. What are they?” The figure behind the desk finally looked up. Conrad C. Carrington was a large man with bronzed skin, a full head of graying hair that seemed to sweep back from his forehead. An aristocratic nose would have dominated the aging but still handsome face if not for the eyes, a pair of glacial blue orbs that seemed to glow with an eerie intensity. They bored in on Peabody now, and the thin man shifted nervously from one foot to the other and adjusted his wire rim glasses.

“The first one,” he said, glancing down at the folder, “looks like a Category 1. Retired couple in Florida thought they saw flashing lights go over their condo real low, circle around, and buzz them again. Local law enforcement says it was probably just a drug plane looking to make a delivery.” He looked up as though expecting acknowledgement, but none was forthcoming.

“The second one is a Category 2,” he plunged on, looking back down at the printout. “Airline pilot over Nebraska says he saw a large floating cigar shape hovering below him, with flashing lights on its side that seemed to be signaling some message. No other reports on the sighting, although there was a football game going on at about that time and the pilot could have seen a blimp.”

“Yes, yes. What about the third one?” Carrington was drumming on the desktop with a silver pen.

“At least a Category 3, sir. Some hillbilly in the mountains of North Carolina claims a close encounter. Says the ship landed near her cabin and aliens attacked her.”

Carrington stopped his drumming. “Let me see it,” he said quickly. He scanned the story as a grin lit up his face. “Peabody, this may be it,” he exclaimed. “Find out about this ... this ...” he looked down at the clipping in his hand again, “this Jupiter.” A broad smile flashed briefly. “Jupiter, hmmm? A coincidence? I think not, eh, Peabody? There’s more here than meets the eye, I’ll wager.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll check out the area right away.” Peabody went over to a computer sitting on a desk near the wall. He sat down and began working. The large man at the other desk spun in his chair and looked out the huge window that made up one wall of the large office. A magnificent view of New York City spread out as far as the eye could see. “Well?” he asked anxiously.

“Just a moment, sir.” Peabody scanned the screen. “Here we go. Jupiter. Small town in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Looks like it’s got a bit of tourism. They’ve got a small college, a little light industry.” He punched a button and a piece of paper scrolled out of a printer. He got up and handed the paper to Carrington.

“Mountains, huh? I didn’t know they had mountains down south.”

“Uh, yes sir. They’re not the Rockies, of course, but...” he let the words trail off when he realized the other man was paying him not the slightest attention.

“It looks good, Peabody, it looks good. Mountains. That’s good. Up high, close to the sky. Clean. Pure. I like it, Peabody. I like it. Run the cross-check.”

Peabody tapped on the computer again. He waited a few moments while the computer searched its memory banks, then spat its data out on the printer. It rattled softly and then stopped.

Peabody pulled the paper out of the tray. His eyebrows shot up. “Um, sir? Looks like we have a good match.” He handed the second piece of paper to an anxious Carrington.

“Fourteen!” Carrington turned to Peabody. “Fourteen other sightings in a hundred-mile radius within the past five years. That’s one of the highest sightings per capita in the world! You can’t tell me that’s not a definite sign of extraterrestrial visitation in the region.”

Or backwoods imagination, Peabody thought. But he wisely kept his opinion to himself.

Carrington stood and started pacing in front of the dazzling view of the city below, his hands clasped behind his back.

“You know, Peabody, this could really be the time. After all these years, I feel like I’m close. Very close. This is what will make everything worthwhile. Why, if I succeed, my place in history not only will be assured, I’ll be first in line!” He glared at Peabody to see if he would dare disagree with his assessment.

“Just think about it, Peabody. Contact with an alien culture from beyond the stars. The secrets of the universe at long last exposed and explained. Interstellar travel. Can you even imagine what it would be like to stand on a planet billions of miles from here, with a civilization as old as ours, or older?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “It will be mankind’s greatest moment.” His eyes glittered. “And it will be all because of me.” He stabbed a finger at his chest. “Me, Peabody. Do you here? Me. It will be all my doing. They won’t be able to build a statue of me big enough.”

Peabody waited patiently.

“Yes, sir, I tell you, this is big. Huge. Enormous. Gargantuan. Nothing like it has ever happened in the history of the world to compare. First man on the moon? Hah! Stepping on a dead rock. This is interspecies communication we’re talking here. It boggles the mind to think what that will mean.”

He glanced over at Peabody.

“Not to mention, of course, what it will do for the bottom line. Let the stockholders whine then. All that mewling and caterwauling after the third quarter last year, just because profits were up only 16 percent. Christ on a tricycle, you’d think those namby-pamby chuckleheads had real money at stake here.”

He paused in his pacing and stared out of the window. Gray clouds scudded low across the sky, seemingly close enough to reach out and grab. Below, the cacophony of the city streets, the dirt and grime and misery and fear of daily urban life, was closed away, as far off as the moon.

“You know, Peabody, I don’t even know what I’ll do with all that money. Maybe I’ll give you a raise.” He turned to see what reaction that provoked. Peabody gave a weak laugh. He’d heard the joke before.

Carrington started pacing again. “Damn, I can’t believe how shortsighted the world is. You know when I asked Parker Davies to come in with me on this, he actually laughed. Thought it was some goddamned joke. Laugh at me, will he? Why, I’m Conrad Carrington. I’m the King, aren’t I? No one can touch the Condom King in the prophylactic industry. We’ll see who has the last laugh. Bah. That’s the problem with business today. People got no vision. Can’t see what’s plain as day. They think the future’s still over there in China.” He waved his arm dismissively. “China’s history. Finito. You hear what I’m saying, Peabody?” He glanced back at his assistant again. Peabody stood still. He’d heard all this before, too.

“Yes, China’s about tapped out. Stagnant market. Those goddamned gooks are already swilling all the soda pop and gobbling down all the burgers and fries they want now. Sure, we could sell them some more condoms, but only those people without vision believe that’s a big market anymore. Whadda they got over there now, a billion people or so? Hardly worth your while anymore. But out there...” he gazed up to the cloudy heavens. “Out there are whole planets to sell to. Aliens need prophylactics, too, you know, whether they know it or not. And I’m just the man to sell them to ‘em.”

Peabody stood mutely, knowing the spiel was about over. He sneaked a surreptitious peek at his watch. He had things to do.

“Safe sex for the universe. That’s what I have to offer, Peabody. Safe sex for every creature in the galaxy. Of course, we might have to retool a couple of our factories. No telling what size and shape condom your average alien will need. We can work out the finer points later.”

Carrington spun around to face him. “Yes, Peabody, this could be it. I have a good feeling about this place. But we still need to check it out first. Make sure it’s the right spot.”

Peabody nodded, already running through the personnel available for the job. Now, whom did he want exiled for a week or two?

“I want this to be done right, Peabody, you hear what I’m saying?” Carrington said. “We can’t trust this to just anyone. So you’ll go.”

“Yes sir.” Peabody turned to go. Then he gulped. “Me, sir?”

“That’s right, Peabody. You. I want you down there to check things out. You’ll report to me personally.”

“But, sir,” he protested weakly. “I think Phipps would do nicely. Or...”

“No, no, no. You’ll go, Peabody. Today. This afternoon. Make the arrangements.” He had already turned back to the window and was gazing raptly at the gauzy sky, as though he could penetrate the secrets of the cosmos simply by staring at clouds. He glanced back to see Peabody still standing miserably at attention.

“Well? Don’t just stand around, Peabody. Go, go, go!”

Peabody went.

***