The Beasts Of Valhalla

that?'

'Stryder London. He's- '

'I know who he is. Stryder London is full of shit.'

'Funny; that's how London described Siegfried Loge when we told him that Loge believed the Valhalla Project was a straightforward, bomb-the-enemy-into-beasties, biological weapon being funded by your friendly ex- employees in the Pentagon.'

'They're both full of shit,' Lippitt said casually. 'Neither man knows what he's talking about. Siegmund Loge has absolutely no interest in power, nor in ruling anyone. Also, he has nothing but contempt for the way governments perceive and treat each other as enemies.'

'Then what is he up to?'

'What difference does it make? What he's doing is a threat to all life on this planet.'

'It has to be funded by the Pentagon, Lippitt. Why do you have so much trouble with that?'

'The trouble is that you don't know what you're talking about, and you have an antigovernment attitude. I've spent my life working for this country, and I know something about authorized research projects. I know something about the development of biological and chemical weapons. The government authorizes research into some pretty hairy areas; it has to, because it must assume that other countries are doing the same thing. The point is not what Loge is doing-it's how he's doing it. The Pentagon would never allow this kind of cockamamy, strewn-all-over-the-landscape kind of operation. Siegmund Loge is a loose cannon, and he's a loose cannon because the people who fund him can't control him.'

'Who do you think funds him?'

'My best guess is a secret cabal of politicians, businessmen, and military men. A lot of government money is being siphoned off, yes, but I'm convinced that no official committee in the military or in government has ever heard of Project Valhalla. The money men behind Loge are extremely powerful, and they probably believe that what they're doing is in the best interests of the country, but they're renegades and traitors.'

'London seems to be pretty close to Siegmund Loge,' Garth said quietly.

'Oh? Closer than Loge's own son and grandson?'

'You have a point,' Garth replied with a shrug.

'Let me tell you a few things about Lieutenant General Stryder London. For openers, he's listed as AWOL from the U.S. Army.'

'It wouldn't be the first time the military faked a desertion, or falsified a classification, in order to put a man on a secret operation.'

Lippitt dismissed my comment with an impatient wave of his hand. 'London was at the Institute for the Study of Human Potential the same time that Loge and I were there. He's what the military thinks of as the model for the future fighting man, and they'd contracted with the Institute to do a complete physical and psychological workup on him. London is an awesome combat soldier-but he's also a raving fascist who has a lot of problems with people who don't share his views on what this country should be and do. What he told you about the genetic control of behavior is his fantasy.'

'Loge must have told him something,' Garth said.

'Of course Loge told him something,' Lippitt answered tersely. 'Loge gave him the fantasy. Loge tells a lot of different people a lot of different things, and even his funders may not know what he's really up to. He has personal presence and charisma you can't believe until you meet and talk with him. He mesmerizes people. You visited a commune of lunatic Christians. I infiltrated three communes-one of murderous Moslems into whipping themselves with chains, another of Jewish Defense League types, and a third of Zoroastrians. Each commune was isolated. Each thought Loge was God or a messiah, and each thought Loge had come to fulfill their particular religious vision. The only person who knows what Siegmund Loge really wants may be Siegmund Loge.'

'Do you have any idea where Stryder London's taking our bio-samples?'

Lippitt slowly nodded. 'If my information is correct, Loge has control of the Institute for the Study of Human Potential-the best-equipped facility in the world for extracting the kind of genetic data he needs from your biosamples. If you two are the keys to Valhalla, and I believe you are, Loge may now have all he needs to open the lock. Obviously, Loge thinks you're the keys.'

'The Institute,' I said. 'That's where it all started for you-when you tried to find out who was leaching data from the computer banks.'

Again, Lippitt nodded. 'It's hard for me to believe that Jonathan Pilgrim is involved in this; I would have trusted the man with my life. Loge must have found the right button of his to push, too.'

For some time there was silence, broken only by the hissing of the fire column. Fire, one of humankind's oldest allies and enemies, can soothe the soul at a very deep level; everyone seemed reluctant to leave it and go back into the darkness around us, a night with claws and teeth.

'We're never going to get out of here, are we, Mongo?' Hugo said in his deep, rumbling voice.

'Wrong.'

HUGO FUCKING RIGHT

'Wrong.'

Lippitt laughed. 'You and Hugo worry too much, Golly. Frederickson said he was going to get us out of here. If you knew Frederickson as well as I do, you'd know that he usually manages to do what he says he's going to do. He's going to take us out of here. Right, Frederickson?'

'Right.' I nodded in the direction of a tunnel to my left. 'Let's go find us a dragon.'

30

The dragon was dead and decomposing-a condition that enabled Garth, following his nose, to lead us on the last leg of our journey out of Mount Doom. The way out of the final labyrinth of mine tunnels and caves was marked by a beacon of strong, fresh breezes blowing in our faces, rushing past us to feed the ravenous, fiery beast at our backs and beneath our feet.

Now we stood at the far end of the valley of black stone, watching the final destruction of Ramdor. The ranch house and barn were gone, leaving black, smoldering holes in the face of the escarpment. Somehow-probably through the elevator shaft-fire had gotten into the laboratory building at the brink of the escarpment; black, foul- smelling smoke leaked from the seams of the windowless building, staining the morning, blocking out the sun.

Then, suddenly, it exploded.

'Jesus!' I said, startled as flaming debris rained on and scattered the odd assortment of people gathered in the valley below. 'What the hell was that?'

'Probably incendiary bombs,' Lippitt answered. 'The same as at Volsung, in Nebraska. The people involved in this wanted to ensure there was no evidence left lying around when they finished. The easiest way to get rid of something is to blow or burn it up.'

'They put incendiary bombs in a building that sits on top of burning coal mines?!'

Lippitt shrugged, smiled thinly. 'How could they know you'd be along to light a match to the whole escarpment?'

I felt a tug at my sleeve, turned to look at Golly.

FUCKING THANKS FOR SAVING US

'Thank you for coming down to help me. If it hadn't been for you, we'd have probably been eaten.'

?

GOLLY STAY WITH FUCKING MONGO

'You have to stay with me, sweetheart. Who else would put up with a foul-mouthed gorilla?'

FUCKING THANKS

'Thank you, Hugo, for believing in me and taking the chance you did,' I said to the giant. 'I'm sorry you were burned. The medics in the ambulance down there will treat you. I'm sure your friends will be glad to see you. One more favor: Please don't tell anyone what really happened. We'd just as soon that the people we're going to visit next didn't expect to see us.'