The arrival of the great Stanley Martin was a three-day wonder in thepublic news channels. His previous exploits were recounted, withembellishments, several times during the next seventy-two hours. The"arrival" itself was very carefully staged. A special ship belonging tothe World Police brought him in, and he was met by four Governmentofficials in civilian clothes. The entire affair was covered live bynews cameras. No one on Earth suspected that he had been on Earth forweeks before; a few _knew_ it, but it never even occurred to the rest.
Later, a special interview was arranged. Philip Quinn, a newsinterviewer who was noted for his deferential attitude toward those whomhe had the privilege of interviewing, was chosen for the job.
Stanley Martin's dynamic, forceful personality completely overshadowedQuinn.
But in spite of all the publicity, not one word, not one hint about themethod by which Stanley Martin intended to bring the Nipe in wasreleased. There were all kinds of speculations, ranging from themystically sublime to the broadly comical. One self-styled archbishop ofa California nut cult declared that Martin was a saint appointed by Godto exorcise the Demon Nipe that had been plaguing Mankind and that theMillennium was therefore due at any moment. He was, he said, sendingStanley Martin a sealed letter which contained a special exorcism prayerthat would do the job very nicely. Why hadn't he used it himself?Because if anyone other than a saint or an angel used it, it wouldbackfire on the user and destroy him. Naturally the archbishop did notclaim himself to be a saint, but he knew that Martin was because he hadplainly seen the halo around the detective's head when he saw him on TV.
An inventor in Palermo, Sicily, solemnly declared that he had sentStanley Martin the plans for a device that would render him invisible tothe Nipe and therefore make the Nipe easy to conquer. No, there was nodanger that the device might fall into the wrong hands and be used byhuman criminals, since it did not render a person invisible to humaneyes, only to Nipe eyes.
The first item was played up big in the newscasts. The second wasquashed--fast!--for the very simple reason that the Nipe just might havebelieved it.
One note throbbed in the background of every interview with responsiblepersons. It was the unobtrusive note of a soft clarinet played in agreat symphony, all the more telling because it was never played loudlyor insistently, but it was there all the same. Whenever the question ofthe Nipe's actual whereabouts came up, the note seemed to ring a triflemore clearly, but never more loudly. That single throbbing note was theimpression given by everyone who was interviewed, or who expressed anyviews on the subject, that the Nipe was hiding somewhere in theAmazonian jungles of South America. It was the last place on Earth thathad still not been thoroughly explored, and it seemed to be the onlyplace that the Nipe could hide.
Only a small handful of the vast array of people who were dispensingthis carefully tailored propaganda knew what was going on. More thanninety-nine percent of the newsmen involved in the affair thought theywere honestly giving the news as they saw it, and none of them saw theinvisible but very powerful hand of Stanley Martin shifting the newsjust enough to give it the bias he wanted.
The comedians on the entertainment programs let the whole story alonefor the most part. There were no clever skits, no farcical takeoffs onthe subject of Stanley Martin and the Nipe. One comedian, who wasplaying the part of a henpecked husband, did remark: "If my wife getsany meaner, I'm going to send Stan Martin after _her_!" But it didn'tget much of a laugh. And the Government organization had nothing to dowith that kind of censorship; it was self-imposed. Every one of thereally great comics recognized, either consciously or subconsciously,that the Nipe was not a subject for humor. Such jokes would have madethem about as popular as the Borscht Circuit comedian who told a funnystory about Dachau in 1946.
Aside from the subtle coloring given it by the small, Mannheim-trainedgroup of propaganda experts, the news went out straight.
The detective himself, after that one single interview, vanished fromsight. No one knew where he was, though, again, there were all kinds ofspeculations, all of them erroneous. Actually, he was a carefullyguarded and willing prisoner in a suite in one of the big hotels inGovernment City.
On the fourth day, the big operation began without fanfare. The actualmaneuvering to capture the alien that had terrorized a planet beganshortly after noon.
At a few minutes before three that afternoon, the man whom the worldknew as Stanley Martin suddenly suffered a dizzy spell and nearlyfainted.