the patrol scope before we descend."
Fifteen minutes later, the sliver-winged laboratory had landed and we had all been quickly ushered into an underground hangar.
A young uniformed man led us down a series of well-lit hallways until we came to a closed, unmarked door.
"You can go in," he declared.
I suddenly found myself consumed with self-consciousness. I had not seen Frank Hardy in eleven years. I was forty-three years
old. Would he still find me attractive? My face burned with embarrassment at my schoolgirl awkwardness. What a fool I was!
I had abandoned my romantic hopes years before. Sentiment and passion had no place in the life of a middle-aged wife and mother.
I gathered my senses, smoothed down my titian tresses, adjusted my brassiere, and with a determined nod to Bud and Tom opened
the door. It was some sort of conference center. A large table surrounded by chairs sat in its center. Maps of the world papered
the walls. Sitting with his hands folded at the far end of the table was the love of my life, Frank Hardy. He stood when I
came in. His hair was graying around the temples and he had a mustache, but I noticed that his tailored uniform fit crisply
over his still strapping physique. A small tremble snaked its way from my ankles to my knees.
"Major Hardy," I purred, despite myself. "How nice to see you again."
Frank smiled. "Now what's this I hear about Hannah Gruen?" he asked.
Tom and Bud and I sat down at the table, and I told Frank everything I knew, including Hannah's familial confession. He nodded
thoughtfully and several times consulted notes that he had laid out on the table.
"Nancy," he commented, "let me be straight with you. Hannah Gruen is a highly skilled Soviet agent bent on selling our most
precious atomic secrets to the highest bidder."
I gasped.
"Just kidding!" he exclaimed.
He cleared his throat and continued. "Actually, Hannah is no spy. She was a member of the Communist Party for three weeks
in 1913. But why the House Committee on Un-American Activities would choose to go after an elderly housekeeper for a youthful
indiscretion, I don't know. They refuse to share their files with the military, but I can't imagine that they have any information
that we don't." He looked up at me meaningfully. "I can only theorize that there is some dastardly plan at work here."
"Like that time when we were drilling for molten iron at the South Pole with the atomic blaster?" asked Tom boringly.
"Something like that," Frank answered, nodding.
"What are we going to do?" I asked.
Frank's eyes steeled. "We're going to go straight to the top."
We took Tom's four-person atomic-powered scooter straight to the White House, and moments later we were sitting in the Oval
Office across from President Eisenhower. Frank relayed the situation.
President Eisenhower nodded. "I'll make some calls, Major Hardy," he offered. "But before I do, I should tell you that I think
I already know why HUAC had targeted your Hannah Gruen."
"You do?" I gasped.
The president pursed his lips grimly. "In 1915, I was a second lieutenant stationed in Fort Sam Houston, Texas. I fell in
love with two women. One of them I married. The other, a young suffragette in town to campaign for the vote, was named Hannah
Gruen."
"Jumpin' jets!" exclaimed Bud.
The president continued, his face reddening. "I think that my enemies discovered my relationship with Miss Gruen and decided
to charge her, knowing that I could not let our relationship come to light."
"What are we going to do, sir?" queried Frank.
"What my enemies want me to do," the president lamented. "I have no choice but to resign."
"You can't!" Frank gasped.
"Good night!" exclaimed Bud.
"It's not fair!" Tom cried darkly.
"Just wait a minute, Mr. President," I remarked. "You're saying that this is all an elaborate scheme to force you to step
down as leader of the free world?"
The president nodded curtly.
"And that the only evidence they
Fifteen minutes later, the sliver-winged laboratory had landed and we had all been quickly ushered into an underground hangar.
A young uniformed man led us down a series of well-lit hallways until we came to a closed, unmarked door.
"You can go in," he declared.
I suddenly found myself consumed with self-consciousness. I had not seen Frank Hardy in eleven years. I was forty-three years
old. Would he still find me attractive? My face burned with embarrassment at my schoolgirl awkwardness. What a fool I was!
I had abandoned my romantic hopes years before. Sentiment and passion had no place in the life of a middle-aged wife and mother.
I gathered my senses, smoothed down my titian tresses, adjusted my brassiere, and with a determined nod to Bud and Tom opened
the door. It was some sort of conference center. A large table surrounded by chairs sat in its center. Maps of the world papered
the walls. Sitting with his hands folded at the far end of the table was the love of my life, Frank Hardy. He stood when I
came in. His hair was graying around the temples and he had a mustache, but I noticed that his tailored uniform fit crisply
over his still strapping physique. A small tremble snaked its way from my ankles to my knees.
"Major Hardy," I purred, despite myself. "How nice to see you again."
Frank smiled. "Now what's this I hear about Hannah Gruen?" he asked.
Tom and Bud and I sat down at the table, and I told Frank everything I knew, including Hannah's familial confession. He nodded
thoughtfully and several times consulted notes that he had laid out on the table.
"Nancy," he commented, "let me be straight with you. Hannah Gruen is a highly skilled Soviet agent bent on selling our most
precious atomic secrets to the highest bidder."
I gasped.
"Just kidding!" he exclaimed.
He cleared his throat and continued. "Actually, Hannah is no spy. She was a member of the Communist Party for three weeks
in 1913. But why the House Committee on Un-American Activities would choose to go after an elderly housekeeper for a youthful
indiscretion, I don't know. They refuse to share their files with the military, but I can't imagine that they have any information
that we don't." He looked up at me meaningfully. "I can only theorize that there is some dastardly plan at work here."
"Like that time when we were drilling for molten iron at the South Pole with the atomic blaster?" asked Tom boringly.
"Something like that," Frank answered, nodding.
"What are we going to do?" I asked.
Frank's eyes steeled. "We're going to go straight to the top."
We took Tom's four-person atomic-powered scooter straight to the White House, and moments later we were sitting in the Oval
Office across from President Eisenhower. Frank relayed the situation.
President Eisenhower nodded. "I'll make some calls, Major Hardy," he offered. "But before I do, I should tell you that I think
I already know why HUAC had targeted your Hannah Gruen."
"You do?" I gasped.
The president pursed his lips grimly. "In 1915, I was a second lieutenant stationed in Fort Sam Houston, Texas. I fell in
love with two women. One of them I married. The other, a young suffragette in town to campaign for the vote, was named Hannah
Gruen."
"Jumpin' jets!" exclaimed Bud.
The president continued, his face reddening. "I think that my enemies discovered my relationship with Miss Gruen and decided
to charge her, knowing that I could not let our relationship come to light."
"What are we going to do, sir?" queried Frank.
"What my enemies want me to do," the president lamented. "I have no choice but to resign."
"You can't!" Frank gasped.
"Good night!" exclaimed Bud.
"It's not fair!" Tom cried darkly.
"Just wait a minute, Mr. President," I remarked. "You're saying that this is all an elaborate scheme to force you to step
down as leader of the free world?"
The president nodded curtly.
"And that the only evidence they
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