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He turned the desk upside down, looking for secret compartments. Finding none, he ordered the marines to take it to pieces. At a nod from the admiral they dismantled the desk. But it was perfectly innocuous. Hanlon was just turning away, disgustedly, when a man came from the zoo with the caged toogan. At sight of the familiar room the bird perked up.
Several of the Corpsmen jumped forward, and again the toogan struggled, but Hanlon was holding it firmly by force, as well as tightening his mental control, which the powerful compulsion Bohr had implanted in the bird's mind had momentarily broken through.
"Warn them that we want all of the crew and passengers." The two started out, but suddenly Admiral Hawarden stopped Hanlon with his hand on the young man's arm. "About that business with the toogan. I'm not prying if you don't want to talk, but shouldn't I warn all the men who saw it, to keep quiet?" "Shades of Snyder, yes! I got so interested I forgot all about others seeing me with it.
And he could read everything in it. Best of all, the toogan had a pictorial type of mind it remembered in scenes as well as words. It transmitted an almost perfect likeness of the being Hanlon had first known as The Leader and later as His Highness Gorth Bohr any slight discrepancies being caused by the difference between a bird's ability to see and that of humans.
All men have the need to talk to someone, some times, so Bohr chose this toogan, who is really quite intelligent, and who could talk back with him. The bird doesn't 'remember' it all, of course, but it's all engraved on his brain." "That means, then," Newton said thankfully, "that we won't have to worry about a war with another system or galaxy." "Yes, and that's a real help," Hawarden added.
I doubt if there was anyone he could really call a friend, or to whom he could talk in full confidence." "Except possibly that bird you told ..." his father began, absently, when Hanlon interrupted with a whoop. "Hey, that's it!" He jumped up and ran to the visiphone, and dialed the zoo. "Bring that toogan of Bohr's back to Base!" "What, again?" the indignant curator asked.
They say no one but the Prime Minister can handle it." "It's all right," the admiral spoke. "Thank you for bringing it. That will be all." Hanlon took the cage and, giving the admiral a meaning look, walked out of the room with it. In the next room George Hanlon sank into a comfortable chair, then opened the cage door and the toogan fluttered out and perched on the chair arm.
They had been working nearly a quarter of an hour, sorting through the voluminous papers in the minister's desk and files, when another Corps lieutenant came in, his hand bandaged. "What happened to you, Patrick?" Hawarden asked in surprise. "That blasted toogan bit me, and I had to get my hand dressed." "What toogan?" "One that must have been Bohr's pet.
Finally Hanlon rose, and the toogan flew onto his outheld arm much as a falcon might ride. In that manner they returned to the main office where the others were still working. They were all amazed at this peculiar situation, but only Admiral Hawarden came even close to guessing what was going on.
Puzzled but unquestioning, the admiral went to the visiphone and dialed the zoo. "Admiral Hawarden, Curator. I believe the Prime Minister's toogan was just delivered to you. There was a mistake. Please send it back ... never mind, sir, what the 'why' is, just return it immediately." He flipped off the switch impatiently, and looked at the young Secret Serviceman with wondering eyes. A toogan?
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