Free Alan E. Nourse & J. A. Meyer by The invaders are Coming Page A

work, all the credit was given to a few CI and DIA figureheads who
were military-looking, telegenic , and willing to
accept the risk of assassination that accompanied such notoriety. Alexander, like
the other CI main links, had his face altered slightly by surgery and was given
a new assignment halfway around the world, with his Army records adjusted to
cover the five month lapse.
    The
only records of the affair were in the central CI files where his name had been
replaced by a meaningless cover number. There was no decoration, commendation,
record of service, or even mention of his CI experience after that. Most of the
CI people who had worked most closely with him did not know his real identity,
and the trail of Agent C451933 ended as abruptly as if he had never existed, as
was customary in intelligence work.
    But
Alexander had never forgotten the experience, particularly the breakout from
the bastille , which he had considered a maneuver
with overtones of brilliance. As a result of his intimate acquaintance with
intelligence operations, he always, in any new assignment, imagined himself in
the role of an intelligence agent and/or prisoner, and studied the existing
security system for loopholes.
    This
was not merely a hobby or diversion; he had no way of knowing when the dead
trail of Agent C451933 might be reopened by a chance recognition, or when he
might have to worry about getting people into places or getting himself out.
    The
fact that he was confined in an American hospital in the outskirts of Chicago,
rather than in a Chinese or satellite compound, was slightly irrelevant under
the circumstances. There was no question in his mind that his neck at the
present moment depended upon his finding out what had actually happened at the
Wildwood Plant, and he was satisfied that Bahr's DIA henchmen were at least as
dangerous an enemy, to him personally, as a dozen Qualchi knife-men.
    But the Kelley Hospital was a break. He had
studied the Kelley system—modeled on the Bronstock system used in the Eastern European "rehabilitation" centers—when he
had developed the Wildwood plan. He had found no noticeable weakness in the
Kelley system at that time, but then he had been on the outside, not inside.
    And
that, he decided, made a very great deal of difference.
    Moving
out of his bed, he put his ear to the door. There was no sound in the corridor.
He opened the door a crack, ear pressed against the aluminum sill, listening
for the telltale vibrations of the alarm gongs used in the Kelley. There was
nothing. No ringing, no pounding of feet. Somewhere below, he knew, a
master-panel lit up any time a patient's door was opened, but it was nearly
dinner time and most of the personnel would be occupied. A blue light might go
unnoticed for a while. Even the hall TV scanners were dim, though he knew the
slightest alarm would throw the hallways and rooms under surveillance in ten
seconds flat.
    Out
in the hall he padded across to the men's lavatory and ducked inside. There were
commodes, a urinal, and sinks. He collected all the toilet paper rolls and hand
towels he could find and crossed swiftly back into his room again.
    It
took only moments to crumple the paper and towels, wrap them in a sheet from
the bed, and stuff them under the sponge-plastic mattress. There was a
bed-light on the wall; he pulled out the plug, ripped the lamp off the wire,
and bent the naked copper ends into a neat pair of lobster claws.
    Finally,
he dropped the three metal toilet-paper rollers into a pillow case stripped
from the bed. Pulling all his clothes off, he plugged the lamp cord back in the
wall socket and touched the lobster-claws together near the nest of torn paper.
There was a shower of sparks, and the fuse blew, but he blew gently into the paper
nest and was rewarded by a tiny flame.
    The
power came back immediately on an emergency circuit. He heard a buzzer down
the corridor summon the maintenance men. The smoke was already beginning to
pour from