possibly do is search your equipment, and I doubt that will happen. They want you to report that everything in Montana is peachy keen and you have no idea how Parkins got himself shot. They may supply a fake story for you to report, but I don't think they're stupid enough for such transparent fagades. No, nothing will happen to you, except that you'll be very carefully watched. Very carefully, which is exactly what we want, for the closer they watch you, the less time and ability they'll have to watch for anyone else."
"Like Kevin," replied Malcolm, his breathing now almost normal. During the first day's ran he had vomited and afterward taken half an hour to regain his wind.
The old man smiled. "Precisely, like Kevin and others whom we will cram in the back way."
"Then why all this heavy stuff?"
"Suppose, Malcolm," the old man said softly, "just suppose something did go wrong. Suppose you did run into a little something. We can't make you superman. Indeed, none of our agents are supermen. In case of trouble, the best thing you can have going for you is a fine mind and instincts, coupled with experience and a good deal of training. You have a fine mind, small and somewhat limited experience. Unfortunately, we don't have enough time to train you adequately, but some basics may just come in handy. 1, for one, am somewhat glad we don't have all that much time to train you. I fear that we might mold you into a competent professional, and in doing so, we might preen away some of your natural abilities. Your greatest asset is you and what others call your luck. I call it your talent."
Malcolm snorted as he shifted in his chair. He hoped to prolong the conversation, thereby cutting into the time he would spend facing McGiffert on the mats, their hands and feet-padded just enough to avoid bruising but not enough to avoid pain.
"Suppose I do stumble onto something when I'm out there by myself, do I call for the cavalry or what?"
"You will, of course, keep us fully informed through the procedures you have been taught. We will keep you abreast of what we know. In the event that you stumble onto something, well, what can I say but; use your own judgment?"
Malcolm grunted. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the old man.
"We'll have time for all this briefing later. Right 'now, ff I'm not mistaken, you and McGiffert have a before breakfast session on the mats. Is that not correct, McGiffert?"
"Yes, sir!" exclaimed ex-Sergeant- McGiffert as he bounded from his chair. "Let's go, bucko."
Malcolm slowly raised his eyes to the hard-muscled figure standing above him. Malcolm carefully shook his head, sighed and gingerly rose. He followed McGiffert across the farmyard to the training shed at as slow a pace as he dared.
Carl's soft voice barely reached the old man as he sat watching the two figures depart. "It is an interesting proposition, sir. What if Condor should encounter something in the field?"
The old man smiled and waited several seconds before replying. "That, Carl, my boy, is too good luck to hope for. We can't expect to be so fortunate."
Carl wrinkled his forehead slightly as he said, "Yes, sir, but that's not quite what I meant. Suppose Malcolm runs into trouble out there? I know it would be good for us because it would mean we have flushed the opposition. But what about Malcolm? How do you think he, would do?"
The old man looked at the shed. He frowned briefly in thought for some time before replying. "As you say, Carl, it is an interesting proposition."
"Would you care for some coffee, sir?"
Malcolm shook his head no and the stewardess flashed a vacant smile at him. "'Perhaps later, then." Another empty smile and she moved up the aisle to the next row of seats.
Malcolm looked out his window. The bright sun made him squint. Below him humps of clouds formed a deceptively solid landscape. Every other direction was blue; cold, crisp, clean, bright blue. The plane had taken some time to climb above the heavy
"Like Kevin," replied Malcolm, his breathing now almost normal. During the first day's ran he had vomited and afterward taken half an hour to regain his wind.
The old man smiled. "Precisely, like Kevin and others whom we will cram in the back way."
"Then why all this heavy stuff?"
"Suppose, Malcolm," the old man said softly, "just suppose something did go wrong. Suppose you did run into a little something. We can't make you superman. Indeed, none of our agents are supermen. In case of trouble, the best thing you can have going for you is a fine mind and instincts, coupled with experience and a good deal of training. You have a fine mind, small and somewhat limited experience. Unfortunately, we don't have enough time to train you adequately, but some basics may just come in handy. 1, for one, am somewhat glad we don't have all that much time to train you. I fear that we might mold you into a competent professional, and in doing so, we might preen away some of your natural abilities. Your greatest asset is you and what others call your luck. I call it your talent."
Malcolm snorted as he shifted in his chair. He hoped to prolong the conversation, thereby cutting into the time he would spend facing McGiffert on the mats, their hands and feet-padded just enough to avoid bruising but not enough to avoid pain.
"Suppose I do stumble onto something when I'm out there by myself, do I call for the cavalry or what?"
"You will, of course, keep us fully informed through the procedures you have been taught. We will keep you abreast of what we know. In the event that you stumble onto something, well, what can I say but; use your own judgment?"
Malcolm grunted. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the old man.
"We'll have time for all this briefing later. Right 'now, ff I'm not mistaken, you and McGiffert have a before breakfast session on the mats. Is that not correct, McGiffert?"
"Yes, sir!" exclaimed ex-Sergeant- McGiffert as he bounded from his chair. "Let's go, bucko."
Malcolm slowly raised his eyes to the hard-muscled figure standing above him. Malcolm carefully shook his head, sighed and gingerly rose. He followed McGiffert across the farmyard to the training shed at as slow a pace as he dared.
Carl's soft voice barely reached the old man as he sat watching the two figures depart. "It is an interesting proposition, sir. What if Condor should encounter something in the field?"
The old man smiled and waited several seconds before replying. "That, Carl, my boy, is too good luck to hope for. We can't expect to be so fortunate."
Carl wrinkled his forehead slightly as he said, "Yes, sir, but that's not quite what I meant. Suppose Malcolm runs into trouble out there? I know it would be good for us because it would mean we have flushed the opposition. But what about Malcolm? How do you think he, would do?"
The old man looked at the shed. He frowned briefly in thought for some time before replying. "As you say, Carl, it is an interesting proposition."
"Would you care for some coffee, sir?"
Malcolm shook his head no and the stewardess flashed a vacant smile at him. "'Perhaps later, then." Another empty smile and she moved up the aisle to the next row of seats.
Malcolm looked out his window. The bright sun made him squint. Below him humps of clouds formed a deceptively solid landscape. Every other direction was blue; cold, crisp, clean, bright blue. The plane had taken some time to climb above the heavy
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