DEADLY DECOY
By CLYDE MITCHELL
Would you say present-day Secret Service men have a
tough job protecting the President? No doubt, but as time
goes on it will get tougher. Here is about as tricky a
method of liquidation as we've ever come across.
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Amazing Stories February 1957.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Thank you for permitting me to come to your office," said the Damakoi, very politely.
"Sit down," I said, and glanced at the instruments on my hidden desk panel. With a member of the most fanatically dangerous race in the Galaxy sitting across from me, I didn't feel like taking chances.
Every non-radiating detector we had was focussed on the blue-skinned being before me, and every meter showed that the alien was harmless. Which didn't necessarily mean anything, of course—Holdreth Khain of Damak could easily have had something else up his sleeve. It was my job to make sure that whatever it might be, it wouldn't work.
