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attention. They received such things daily, ranging from UFO sightings and encounters with extraterrestrials to out-and-out threats of one kind or another.
    The station manager had listened to the tape, and it had held his attention for a few minutes, at least until it began listing demands, whereupon he labeled it and tossed it into the junk drawer where they kept such threats and crank calls. They kept such items for a few months, just in case something happened and the police had a need for them as evidence. The mention of Twentynine Palms called the tape to the station manager’s mind, and he contacted the FBI.
    The San Francisco Chronicle , Washington Post , New York Times and Chicago Tribune , among other newspapers and TV stations across the nation, now confirmed that they, too, had received copies of the tape. A few still had them. The FBI had taken possession of the Los Angeles tape, and five days after the Eidermann incident, the tape and the author of the message it contained were the subjects of an emergency congressional subcommittee hearing in Washington, D.C. On the tape was what FBI voice analysis had determined to be the voice of a middle-aged, Caucasian male. Although he sounded calm, coherent and technically educated, what he threatened to do seemed impossible for a lone man, and probably beyond most nuclear powers in the world.
    The hearing, currently in progress, was being chaired by Senator William Harford, Democrat from Delaware, and extant Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee. It was closed to television cameras, but a dozen journalists, and three dozen people from military and federal agencies, crowded near the front of the large, oak-paneled hearing room, leaving most of the auditorium vacant.
    A wine-red carpet with a kingly black-and-gold castellated pattern covered the floor and the dais. Matching swivel chairs of rich brown leatherette lined the facing sides of polished oak tables. The tables were ornately inlaid with obsidian. A center aisle divided the rows of tables, like a small theater.
    Running the length of its periphery was a long, enclosed desk that faced the room. Built-in microphones marked the desk and tables at regularly spaced intervals on the dais, and along the first two rows of tables that faced the dais from the floor.
    The Vice President of the United States, Joseph Miller, occupied a chair near one wall, behind and to one side of the dais where the congressional investigators sat, and quietly observed the participants of the hearing. Secretary of Defense Harold Tanner sat on his right, with CIA Director Casper Franklin, and FBI Director Jack Mota, sitting on his left. Senator Harford was flanked on both sides by Senator Roth, Democrat from South Carolina, and Senator Isley, Republican from Idaho.
    Harford, in top form this morning, was known for his ability to bluster and rail with the best of them. He was a short, heavyset man, with a round, balding, bulldog head. His face was habitually red, supported at the collar by multiple chins, and his expression was usually down-turned. His ill temper and matching scowl were focused this morning on the military contingent in the front row.
    “Well, Dr. Stickle, what the hell are we up against? Does the fruitcake on this tape really represent a power that has the capability to blow up an entire friggin’ military base, or is this just a cover-up for something your screwball organization did? If the military is trying to cover up some sort of accident, the Joint Chiefs are going to regret it. What the hell kind of weapon is this supposed to be, anyway?” He waggled the cassette tape at Stickle. “We already know there isn’t any residual radiation; that’s the first thing anybody thought about. If it wasn’t a nuke, what was it? It sounds to me like somebody had chemicals or explosives stored out there. Or maybe, just maybe, one of your harebrained, experimental weapons blew up in your faces.”
    Tall and thin, wearing