Fiend Without a Face

We've gotta figure out

where that power fade comes from.

Okay, I'll see you later.

Bye.

You ever think of trying sleep

instead of benzedrine?

You know, you might like it.

Brother, I've had some tough nuts

to crack in my time.

Thanks.

But nothing like this.

And to top it off, this guy has to go

and get himself killed right outside.

- If he was killed.

- What do you mean?

Well, he could have died

from natural causes, you know.

Oh. That's a switch

coming from a base security man.

You fellows are usually

suspicious of everything.

Here's the sentry's reports,

and, uh, this just

came in from the FBI.

- That's what they have

on the dead man Griselle.

- Oh, yeah?

"Jacques Griselle, 35.

French Canadian.

"Graduated Toronto University.

Specialized in scientific farming.

"Good war record.

Born in Toronto.

"Went north for farming after the war.

Has sister Barbara, age 24,

living on the farm with him."

Well, both the Griselles got a clean

slate. There's nothing suspicious.

Yeah? What was Griselle doing

in the woods at 3:00 in the morning?

- Farming?

- Cigarette?

No, thanks.

What are you gonna do now? Get

yourself all involved in this business?

Let the local authorities

figure it out, Jeff.

The colonel doesn't think

it's that easy, and neither do I.

Besides, who can forget the look

on that dead man's face?

There's probably

some simple explanation.

Hmm. I don't know.

Maybe Doc Warren has the answer.

He should be finished with the autopsy

by now. Let's go on over.

Okay.

- Morning, Doc.

- Morning, Jeff, Hal.

- Hi, Doc.

- I've just been trying to get you.

- Well, what's the story?

- Sit down.

- I wasn't able to perform your autopsy.

- Why not?

Because the mayor of Winthrop

and a local doctor named Bradley,

who's the coroner too, came up

and claimed the body this morning.

- Why didn't you call me?

- The mayor had already

talked to the colonel.

- Oh, that's ridiculous.

- They've got the body, so it's finished.

Finished?

I wouldn't bet on it.

They'll probably blame the death

on our atomic reactors.

Mmm, it's this fear

of radioactive fallout.

We're not exploding atom bombs.

We're just using atomic power

for our radar experiments.

Go out and tell him that.

You know, we're 1,000 miles from

the nearest decent-sized city.

What a bunch of backward people.

They've blamed us for too little

rain, too much rain,

the blight, the beetle,

even Mrs. O'Leary's ailing cow.

We have to have an autopsy,

so we can prove the death

wasn't caused by radiation.

Well, the coroner said it was

heart failure. That oughta do it.

He's one of them.

- Well, you can't figure

their minds, though.

Excuse me, sir.

Colonel Butler phoned...

to ask the major to report

to his office right away.

All right, Mr. Mayor,

if that's the way it is,

no sense in asking you

again, is there?

No, sir. There'll be no autopsy.

Come in.

Ah, Major Cummings.

- You sent for me, sir?

- Yes, Major.

I'd like to introduce

Miss Barbara Griselle and Mayor Hawkins.

- Major Cummings.

- How do you do?

- Major.

- If you don't mind,

I've made up my mind.

Just this one point.

You know that our governments,

Canada and the U.S.A.,

have set up this base as a joint

protection for our people.

We know that, and we've told you that

we feel that the refusal of an autopsy...

Sorry, Miss Griselle... Refusing

to do it won't disrupt the effort.

Miss Griselle, Mayor Hawkins,

I'm no parley diplomat,

I'm an army man.

I'm straightforward,

maybe even blunt.

But I'm afraid I must use

stronger methods of persuasion.

Do you recognize this,

Miss Griselle?

It's your brother's notebook.

He's made some very

interesting notations.

Major, take a look

at this page here.

What's it look like to you?

It's a timetable schedule.

Do you note the times

indicated in each line?

- What is it?

- Why, the schedule

of our takeoffs and landings.

That's enough to give me

what I want, Miss Griselle.

- May I have a look at that notebook?

- Give it to her, Major.

Thank you.

This schedule is a list

of your takeoff and landings.

Our herds milk

at four-nothing cream content,

and my brother felt it was due

to the jets flying overhead.

That's why he was gathering

this information.

If you notice in the following pages,

here's what it says:

"Helen:
Less nervous today,

quality low.

"Diane:
Apathetic, quality poor.

Mabel:
Very pert,

general improvement. "

And so on with the other

members of the herd.

This was a daily reaction

of each cow.

Perhaps the colonel can tell us

what he thought the items referred to.

I guess that's all

we have to discuss.

Thank you for coming.

The colonel's a nice guy really,

but he does have his problems.

- You don't have to apologize for him.

- Well, I'm not.

It's just that he has a job to do,

a difficult one under the circumstances.

Please, I'd rather not discuss it.

Okay. I was only trying to...

- Trying to what?

- Oh, I don't know.

I guess I was looking for a way to say

I understand what you've been through.

- Do you?

- What the heck? We're all human here.

We're not monsters from outer space.

- Well, thanks.

- What for?

Oh, for the lift

and the words of comfort.

I wish I could do more.

I have no hard feelings,

if that's what you're thinking.

Well, I was, but not anymore.

So long.

Control ready, sir.

Green Dog, Green Dog,

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