The Night People by Edward D. Hoch Page B

joke and then went on. “The Russians have a nice little habit in recent years of developing high-test metal alloys, mainly for use in missiles and jet bombers. Of course the exact chemical composition of these alloys is a closely guarded secret, but we find they occasionally use the metals for other purposes. The alloy in question is being used in the nose cone of their newest missile. It is able to withstand the great re-entry temperatures generated by air friction, and it just might be better than anything we have for the same purpose. We know the Russians, praising this metal alloy highly, are using it also for their new Lenin Award stars.”
    “And it’s easier to steal a star off Tonia’s dress than a whole missile nose cone, right?”
    “Correct, Mr. Chambers. Quite correct.”
    “I don’t believe it.” Win sat back and lit a cigarette.
    “What?”
    “I don’t believe the Russians, or anybody else, possessing a secret alloy like that, would risk passing it out, even to heroes and movie stars.”
    “You are a doubting man, Mr. Chambers. Just a few years ago the Russians used remelted metal shavings from a jet bomber’s wing to make coat hangers, of all things. We obtained one of the coat hangers, ran a spectroanalysis and chemical test on it, and were able to determine not only operational range for the plane, but its bomb load as well. Actually, one of the big American missile manufacturers did something similar just last year. They named a girl employee Miss Missile and adorned her with a pendant made from beryllium, a missile metal lighter than aluminum. Of course, beryllium is not exactly top secret.”
    “And if I delivered Tonia’s star to you?”
    “I would pass it on to my superior. It would be in Washington by the end of the week.”
    Win ground out his cigarette and lit a fresh one, as he always did when he was thinking. He’d always been a great one for experience, but he’d never before acted as a spy. Somehow the years of Hollywood life had accustomed him to thinking of spies as shadowy men in dark alleys who waited with knives to strike down the State Department courier and steal the secret code. Could one actually become a spy by simply stealing a tiny red star off a girl’s dress and substituting another bit of metal for it?
    “What’s this star of yours made of?” he asked Falconi.
    “An alloy which we hope approximates the weight of the Lenin Arts Award. Fortunately, the red lacquer hides any difference in colouring of the metal. With luck the lady will never realize the substitution. We worked directly from photographs in the Moscow press at the time of the award. But of course the knowledge of the Award’s physical make-up reached us through another source.”
    “Well,” Win admitted, “you’ve convinced me it’s true, anyway.”
    “Then you’ll do it?”
    “I didn’t say that. Let me have your star, and I’ll see what can be done. It won’t cost you a cent, in any event. Just sort of a gift from me to old Uncle Sam.”
    “The government will find a way of repaying you.”
    “You said on the phone my life was in danger.”
    “Well it might be. The other side has men here, too. They may have discovered I am a so-called ‘black’ agent.”
    “Black?”
    “As contrasted with ‘white,’ the office workers back in Washington, who admit to their employment. But I’m talking too much, Mr. Chambers. In my line talkative persons don’t last too long. Good luck and be careful. If you see anyone following you or suspect you’re being watched, call me at once. Otherwise, I will expect you—when?”
    “I’ll be seeing her tomorrow. It depends on how difficult it is.”
    “Very well. I’ll be here tomorrow after eight. Just in case your luck runs good.”
    They shook hands and Win Chambers went downstairs quickly to the street, feeling for all the world like a lover slipping away by darkness after some midnight assignation. Tomorrow, he knew, would be an