The Beasts Of Valhalla

farmer issue.

'Of course,' I replied as I adjusted the focus on my own binoculars. 'Where would we be if we didn't have a plan?'

'About where we are right now, I'd say.' There was anger in Garth's voice, but I knew that it was directed at the situation, not me. 'Our plan is no plan. We don't even know what Siegfried Loge and his kid look like, what's more where to find them, what's more how to get past those men down there with guns, what's more- '

'You're a barrel of laughs this morning.'

'We're not even certain any of the Loges are here.'

'True.'

'I think we should give some more thought to this.'

'Fine. You can groom your new fur coat while you're thinking, and I'll tend to my webs and scales. This is the only place we have left to look. We need at least one Loge as a hostage, and I say that ranch house is the logical place to look first; after that, the building upstairs. They're not going to come to us, Garth; we have to go to them. What else is there to say?'

'Nothing,' Garth sighed.

'We'll go tonight. With luck, we'll get some cloud cover. I'll still be able to see.'

'I won't.'

'Neither will the guards. In the meantime, we'll sit tight and keep checking things out. Maybe one of the Loges will come out wearing a sign around his neck.'

'Now that's a good plan.'

'The place is staffed by freaks-if you'll pardon the expression,' Garth observed around noon.

He was right. True to Siegfried Loge's sense of humor, or to his bizarre obsession with fantasy, the 'dairy farm' was worked by genetic outtakes like myself; dwarves, fat ladies, midgets, and a variety of other men and women with congenital defects moved about the valley, in and out of the barn, performing various chores. I wondered if any of these people staffed the building on top of the cliff, thought not; there was nothing whimsical about what went on in the windowless building, and it was staffed by technicians of death. The dairy farm itself was literally just a sideshow.

'Yeah,' I said. 'As a matter of fact, I know the giant. His name's Hugo Fasolt. He was with the Statler Brothers' Circus. Not a particularly good omen. Hugo's not exactly the smartest giant you've ever met. He's also congenitally grumpy, and more than a little self-pitying.'

'What giant?'

'The one on the tractor with the gorilla. They're just coming out of the woods.'

Garth aligned his binoculars with mine, looked toward the east where the tractor and its odd riders were hauling a wagon loaded with firewood. 'A big son-of-a-bitch,' Garth said.

'Eight feet, three inches, four hundred and forty-four pounds when he was with Statler Brothers. And he was always on a diet.'

'The gorilla the same one that doused you?'

'No. That one was a big silverback. This one's smaller, probably female.'

'This one's wearing the same kind of screen and typewriter keyboard that you told me about, and she's flashing signals at the big guy. He's talking to her. You think the gorilla understands what he's saying?'

For some reason, the notion of talking gorillas bothered me far beyond the fact that one had almost killed me. I grunted noncommittally.

'The giant acts like she does,' Garth persisted.

'All things considered,' I said tightly, 'the one that grabbed me was pretty articulate-and Lippitt as much as told me that it was the gorilla that told Loge I'd been inside the Volsung complex. But Lippitt has a jet-black sense of humor. Maybe a gorilla can be trained and conditioned to indicate simple responses, but I don't believe even the Loges can make one sentient, or teach it to communicate on a level approaching human language.'

'Why not? They're doing a pretty good job of nudging you and me in the opposite direction.'

'Hugo always talked to himself a lot,' I replied, letting the binoculars drop around my neck and looking away.

'Damned if it doesn't look like the gorilla is carrying a portable cassette player.'

'Yeah. Hugo always liked rock and roll.'

It all reminded me too much of my mother's dream.

'Hey, pal. I'm down here.'

The Warrior who had been standing at the gate outside the ranch house started, then glanced down at about the same time that I punched him in the groin. The breath exploded from his lungs as he crumpled to his knees, hands clasped between his legs. I spun clockwise to gain momentum, cracked him in the jaw with my elbow. I had a little bone on me, too.

Garth appeared beside me, carrying the length of rope I had retrieved during a premidnight reconnaissance of the barn. I relieved the Warrior of his machine pistol, checked the magazine; it was full. We tied the man up, and Garth dragged him back to the barn. He returned five minutes later.

'I gave him another rap on the jaw for insurance, Mongo. That one will stay put. Any others?'

'We have to assume there are always two by the gate out on the highway, but they're stationary. I've seen one night rider; he'll be back around in another twenty minutes or so.'

Garth glanced nervously around him. 'There doesn't seem to be much security.'

'There's probably a battalion of these jokers in the building up on the cliff, and they all may eat and sleep there. That's where the action is. This whole operation is just a little show for the benefit of the neighbors. What I'm worried about is an alarm system in the ranch house.'

'That seems like a reasonable concern.'

'You're the cop. How do we defeat it?'

Garth thought about it, shook his head. 'We probably can't-not in the time we have. If this guy does have an alarm system, it'll be state-of-the-art. On the other hand, with the armed guards, he may not have felt the need for an alarm system in the house.'

'What do you suggest?'

Garth shrugged, pushed through the gate. 'Let's go. We'll find out soon enough if there's an alarm.'

Garth, moving slowly and deliberately to avoid creaking steps, went up on the porch and began running his fingertips around the doorjamb. I stayed behind for a few moments to dig a hole next to one of the potted plants, buried Whisper. Then I joined my brother on the porch. Garth was on his knees, probing the keyhole with the lock pick he always carried in his wallet.

'Can you see?' I asked.

'I don't need to see to do this. What were you up to?'

'I planted Whisper in one of the pots. We've got this cannon, and I figure it's always a good idea to have some insurance against a rainy day.'

'I'm glad to see you haven't lost your rather kinky sense of humor, brother. If it rains on us any harder than it is now, we'll drown.'

There was a soft click. Garth rose to his feet, sucked in a deep breath, turned the knob. The door opened. There was no sound from inside, and moonlight falling through the windows provided sufficient illumination for me to see that the huge living room was empty. I gripped Garth's hand and started to go inside.

Garth pulled me back outside, closed the door. 'I know what the alarm system is,' he said tightly, touching his broad nose.

'What?'

'A state-of-the-art gorilla. It washes with shampoo and uses cologne, but it's still a fucking gorilla.'

'How do you know what a gorilla smells like?'

'I know what it doesn't smell like. Whatever's roaming around in there ain't no doggy, and it ain't no pussycat.'

'Shit,' I said with heartfelt sincerity. It was beginning to look like Volsung all over again. I debated whether or not to retrieve Whisper, decided against it. I still wanted that backup insurance, and I didn't plan on letting the gorilla get close enough for me to stick a knife in it. I took the machine pistol out of my belt, turned the knob and