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Invasion of the Orb Men
Invasion of the Orb Men
Invasion of the Orb Men
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Invasion of the Orb Men

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In 1952, a secret Air Force spy balloon is mistaken for a flying saucer. The balloon project’s security chief thinks the young writer who broke the story must be a communist agent — but the writer is convinced that the security guy is an alien sent to silence him! Meanwhile, a real Soviet spy is about to steal the balloon’s high-tech gyroscope. It’s up to the Air Force’s chief flying saucer investigator to sort out the mess before the writer gets arrested for espionage, the security man blows his own project’s cover, and the real spy gets away.

LanguageEnglish
Release dateJun 11, 2011
ISBN9781452481647
Invasion of the Orb Men

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    Book preview

    Invasion of the Orb Men - Paul Lagasse

    Invasion of the Orb Men

    A novella

    by Paul Lagasse

    SMASHWORDS EDITION

    A Channel 37 Publication

    Invasion of the Orb Men

    Copyright 2011 by Paul Lagasse

    Cover art by Ron Blalock

    Smashwords Edition License Notes

    This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

    # # #

    Table of Contents

    Dedication

    Day One: Monday

    Day Two: Tuesday

    Day Three: Wednesday

    Epilogue: Saturday, 2004

    Dedication

    For Mary Jo, my best friend and muse

    Day One: Monday

    From the June 13, 1952 issue of Flying Saucer Weekly, p. 15:

    A Mysterious Visitor from the Orb

    by Charles Neville

    Flying Saucer Weekly Field Correspondent

    USUALLY, THE EYEWITNESSES OF the strange objects spinning through our skies are the subjects of this magazine's articles. However, this time it is your faithful correspondent who finds himself enmeshed in the enigma of the saucers -- in a most thrilling and terrifying way!

    Regular readers of Flying Saucer Weekly will remember our coverage of the Southwest Saucer Flap two months ago (Dozens See Giant Object Cross Southwest, in the April 10th number), in which was described a series of reports by many credible eyewitnesses -- including a police officer and a flying instructor and his student -- of a large silver-white cone-shaped object that blazed a trail high above Texas, Oklahoma, and Kansas on Wednesday, January 18, 1952. The article generated much reader response, both from others who had seen the mysterious giant silver sphere but had been afraid to speak up for fear of ridicule, and from people offering their opinions and theories as to the nature of the object. But all of these responses paled in comparison to the visit your correspondent received from a terrifying stranger who threatened him to be silent about flying saucers!

    It was a bright Monday morning two weeks ago when a knock on the door revealed a black-suited and -hatted agent from a mysterious and unknown organization called 'The Orb.' The agent, who was alone, beckoned your correspondent outside, toward his black Cadillac. Fearing he might be preparing to abduct me, I wisely chose not to approach but rather to stand in the middle of the yard. There, we spoke -- or, more precisely, the mysterious man in black did all the talking, and warned me in the most threatening tones about the consequences of revealing the secrets of the Southwest Saucer to the unsuspecting public.

    To make his point, the mystery visitor revealed factual details about the giant sphere that I had uncovered but did not include in the article!

    The agent refused to divulge either his name or the nature of the organization for which he claimed to be working, though he wore a badge with the name Orb in English letters. From this clumsy maneuver, I surmised, perhaps the visitor had accidentally let slip his true nature -- could he in fact have been a representative of an alien organization, imperfectly briefed on how to hide information from humans?

    In these perilous times, threats can either turn away the cowardly or they can entice the brave to continue seeking answers. Your correspondent has opted for the latter course.

    # # #

    Marian Mackenzie looked up from her typewriter as the outer office door creaked open. Good Morning, Captain.

    Len Creeger removed his crush cap as he entered, then looked back through the door's frosted pane . Miss Mackenzie, I give up.

    Sir?

    I've varied my arrival times, changed the way I walk, tried opening the door faster and slower. Yet you always know it's me before I even make it through the door. He looked again. The half-pane window was just as opaque as ever -- except, apparently, to Miss Mackenzie. How do you do it?

    Miss Mackenzie shrugged. Isn't that what a good secretary is supposed to do, sir? Know everything? She picked up a stack of mail and news clippings from her desk and stood up to hand it to him. At least some people make it easy. General Horn's pipe is a dead giveaway.

    Creeger flipped through the stack of interoffice envelopes. Your reputation as Project Grudge's greatest tactical asset remains secure, Miss Mackenzie. Anything interesting in here?

    No, sir, routine paperwork, along with last week's newspaper clippings and the latest magazines.

    Creeger looked at the cover sheet accompanying the clippings. Miss Mackenzie, it's enough to just clip these stories for me and the analysts. You don't need to type up summaries of each one, you know. He waved the stack.

    She shrugged again, more coyly this time. I'm a fast typist, sir.

    Creeger nodded. A skill our chronically tardy team has come to rely on. Leave it to me to complain about someone doing a good job, he thought. Anything else?

    She handed Creeger a fresh pack of Wrigley's Spearmint.

    Thirty seconds in the door and you're already saving my life. Creeger stuck the pack in his breast pocket.

    Miss Mackenzie's smile hinted at a wisdom beyond her 21 years. Mister Langford is in your office already.

    Creeger glanced around the work area overlooked by Miss Mackenzie's desk, his smile fading fast. The six desks were still empty; the rest of the team had yet to arrive. He's curious about how Friday's meeting went, I'll bet.

    Yes, sir. She hesitated as Creeger turned toward his office. How are you feeling this morning, Captain?

    Oh, the same as every Monday lately, Creeger called back as he walked toward his door. Disappointed to find the world just where I left it Friday night.

    # # #

    Creeger rapped on the doorframe as he walked into his office. Morning, Carl.

    Carl Langford unfolded his tall frame from his chair and straightened his tie. Hi, Len. Slept badly too, I take it?

    Creeger grunted as he dropped the mail on the filing cabinet by the door and tossed his cap onto the coat rack. I was staring at the empty fireplace until about three and then fell asleep face down on the coffee table.

    Miss Mackenzie appeared in the

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