Last Son of Krypton Read Online Free Page B
Author: Elliot S. Maggin
Stone?"
"Oh, no, much too fattening. I have to watch my health. Just coffee for me. Black."
On the way out of the ice cream parlor Stone dropped behind and tugged at Parker's elbow as the old man stepped out the door. "George," Stone hadn't called Parker by his first name since high school, "George, who is that man? Who did he call from the bank before?"
"I 'spose he called his bank back home."
"Like fudge he did. Do you know who called me the moment you stepped out?"
"No idea."
"The president of Heartland Bank and Trust. The big man himself. He said he got a call from the Chairman of the Federal Reserve in Washington and that I was to give Calvin Eisner whatever he asked for. Do you believe that? The man in charge of printing up American currency and distributing it issued an order to grant the loan. Who is he? FBI? CIA? The President's secret agent?"
"Couldn't tell you. Maybe he's the President in disguise. Wouldn't that be a kick in the head."
"Come on, George, you know who he is. I can tell from the way you acted in the bank. What does he do?"
"Let's just say he's a national monument."
At the bank the old man whistled Bach's Brandenburg Concerto Number Two as he stuffed two thousand three hundred dollars in hundred-dollar bills into his little airline bag. Parker kept a hand on his revolver as he accompanied the old man to the police car and drove him to a tractor dealer in a nearby town. Parker had never seen anyone pay cash before for anything bigger than a Victrola.
"Good gosh, Martha! Did you see that?" Jonathan Kent nearly swerved his pre-war Oldsmobile off the dirt road as a ball of fire boomed across the sky.
"That's the biggest shooting star I've ever seen, Jonathan, and it isn't even dark yet. Do you suppose it could be... something else?"
"Like what? Another one of your communist plots? Looks like it landed near here." The middle-aged man's eyes lighted with childlike glee at the prospect of finding a meteorite so close to his farm.
"But shooting stars don't crash like thunder. Jonathan, don't—"
"How do you know? You ever been this close to one? Look, I can see it smoking. Right beyond that bend where the tractor's supposed to be." Kent coughed his car into third gear and the ancient machine loped up like a hyper-active moose.
"Oh, Jonathan, what could you possibly want with a rock from the sky?"
"Some rock!" Jonathan and Martha Kent screeched to a halt ten feet from a smoldering seven-foot missile that had cracked several trees beside the road. It was now perched with its nose on the ground and its tail resting on a half-felled trunk.
"Be careful, Jonathan. It could be dangerous."
Jonathan wasn't careful. He hopped out of the car and easily pulled open the hatch of the craft. He stared for a moment as if focusing his eyes.
"What is it, Jonathan? What are you looking at?" Martha Kent was still in the car.
"I think it's—it's a baby." And the child immediately began to yelp at the top of his lungs.
"A—" Martha Kent ran toward her husband, who was jolted by the volume of sound coming from such a tiny creature.
"My land, Jonathan!" Martha Kent reached to pick up the baby from the craft. "The thing looks about to explode. Let me get the poor child out of there."
The craft began to hiss, and Jonathan Kent's eyes widened. "Get behind the car, Martha! Quick!" he shoved the woman away after she'd barely had a chance to look at the infant in her arms.
He pushed her behind the car and huddled with her and the baby as the thing he had thought was a rock from the sky screamed like a thousand busy telephone wires, crashed in on itself and vanished in a blinding burst, leaving only fallen trees as evidence of its presence. A note on the tractor parked a few feet away asked Jonathan Kent to send five hundred dollars to a certain bank in New Jersey whenever he had the chance.
About fifty miles away a long black limousine sped eastward along route 46 carrying two terribly competent young men
"Oh, no, much too fattening. I have to watch my health. Just coffee for me. Black."
On the way out of the ice cream parlor Stone dropped behind and tugged at Parker's elbow as the old man stepped out the door. "George," Stone hadn't called Parker by his first name since high school, "George, who is that man? Who did he call from the bank before?"
"I 'spose he called his bank back home."
"Like fudge he did. Do you know who called me the moment you stepped out?"
"No idea."
"The president of Heartland Bank and Trust. The big man himself. He said he got a call from the Chairman of the Federal Reserve in Washington and that I was to give Calvin Eisner whatever he asked for. Do you believe that? The man in charge of printing up American currency and distributing it issued an order to grant the loan. Who is he? FBI? CIA? The President's secret agent?"
"Couldn't tell you. Maybe he's the President in disguise. Wouldn't that be a kick in the head."
"Come on, George, you know who he is. I can tell from the way you acted in the bank. What does he do?"
"Let's just say he's a national monument."
At the bank the old man whistled Bach's Brandenburg Concerto Number Two as he stuffed two thousand three hundred dollars in hundred-dollar bills into his little airline bag. Parker kept a hand on his revolver as he accompanied the old man to the police car and drove him to a tractor dealer in a nearby town. Parker had never seen anyone pay cash before for anything bigger than a Victrola.
"Good gosh, Martha! Did you see that?" Jonathan Kent nearly swerved his pre-war Oldsmobile off the dirt road as a ball of fire boomed across the sky.
"That's the biggest shooting star I've ever seen, Jonathan, and it isn't even dark yet. Do you suppose it could be... something else?"
"Like what? Another one of your communist plots? Looks like it landed near here." The middle-aged man's eyes lighted with childlike glee at the prospect of finding a meteorite so close to his farm.
"But shooting stars don't crash like thunder. Jonathan, don't—"
"How do you know? You ever been this close to one? Look, I can see it smoking. Right beyond that bend where the tractor's supposed to be." Kent coughed his car into third gear and the ancient machine loped up like a hyper-active moose.
"Oh, Jonathan, what could you possibly want with a rock from the sky?"
"Some rock!" Jonathan and Martha Kent screeched to a halt ten feet from a smoldering seven-foot missile that had cracked several trees beside the road. It was now perched with its nose on the ground and its tail resting on a half-felled trunk.
"Be careful, Jonathan. It could be dangerous."
Jonathan wasn't careful. He hopped out of the car and easily pulled open the hatch of the craft. He stared for a moment as if focusing his eyes.
"What is it, Jonathan? What are you looking at?" Martha Kent was still in the car.
"I think it's—it's a baby." And the child immediately began to yelp at the top of his lungs.
"A—" Martha Kent ran toward her husband, who was jolted by the volume of sound coming from such a tiny creature.
"My land, Jonathan!" Martha Kent reached to pick up the baby from the craft. "The thing looks about to explode. Let me get the poor child out of there."
The craft began to hiss, and Jonathan Kent's eyes widened. "Get behind the car, Martha! Quick!" he shoved the woman away after she'd barely had a chance to look at the infant in her arms.
He pushed her behind the car and huddled with her and the baby as the thing he had thought was a rock from the sky screamed like a thousand busy telephone wires, crashed in on itself and vanished in a blinding burst, leaving only fallen trees as evidence of its presence. A note on the tractor parked a few feet away asked Jonathan Kent to send five hundred dollars to a certain bank in New Jersey whenever he had the chance.
About fifty miles away a long black limousine sped eastward along route 46 carrying two terribly competent young men
Readers choose
André Maurois
C.M. Steele
Isis Crawford
Evelyne Stone
Zane Grey
Jeffery Deaver
Shannon Hale
Toby Forward
Ravi Subramanian