"No. Intelligence never did get any real answer, so far as I know.
They were some kind of circular gadgets, and they actually chased our
planes a number of times. We thought they were something the Nazis had
invented--and I still think so."

"Then who's launching them now?"

"Well, it's obviously either Russia or us. If it is the Soviet--well,
that's what's worried me. I don't think it should be treated like a
joke, the way some people in the Pentagon take it."

I stared at the phone, trying to figure him out.

"I'd like to talk it over with you," I said. "Maybe you've got
something."

"I've given you about all I know," Steele answered. "There was an
Intelligence report you might try to see--the Eighth Air Force files
should have it."

"Wait a minute," I said. "Give me your number, in case I find
anything."

He gave it to me without apparent hesitation. I thanked him and hung
up, still wondering.

If it was an attempt at a plant, it was certainly crude. The mention
of his former Air Force connection would be enough to arouse
suspicion, unless he counted on his apparent frankness to offset it.