The Beasts Of Valhalla

atmosphere at some point in the future-which, I assume by reading the papers, is now April first. Within days, 'colored' people would know and accept their 'place,' and South Africa's racial policies would, at long last, be vindicated. Interesting?'

'Interesting,' Lippitt said.

'Interesting,' I said.

'Either of you want something? Coffee? A drink?'

Lippitt and I shook our heads.

'I would have written off the thoughts as a bad daydream, except for the matter of government funding; that wasn't a daydream. This man considered himself to be Siegmund Loge's most trusted confidant, the only person to whom Loge unburdened himself and shared all his secrets.'

'There are a lot of people around here with that fantasy, aren't there?' I asked.

Rafferty nodded. 'Not a lot-but quite a few. There's a Russian, a West German, a Pole, and a few others- including, of course, an American. With the exception of the American, each believes that his government is the sole, secret source of funds for Siegmund Loge, and that Loge's work will serve the particular interests of that country.'

'Why is the American the exception?' Lippitt asked in a flat voice.

'Oh, the American has his own fantasy-total domination of the world by the United States. The difference is that his group is non-official. Funding Loge isn't an official policy of the government. Some money comes from businessmen, and the rest is siphoned off from legitimate government funds. In their view, the biggest threat in this country is the press; they're afraid that anything official would eventually be discovered.'

Lippitt looked at me. He had the grace not to say anything; he didn't even smile. Still, the look told me that as far as he was concerned, I'd been put in my place.

'You're being hunted by a great many people,' Rafferty continued, glancing back and forth between Lippitt and me. 'They don't know why you're so important, only that you're important and should be captured-alive, if at all possible. It's why I was expecting you; I was hoping you'd come to me for help. Mongo, where's Garth?'

I touched my head. 'Don't you know?'

'I haven't scanned you or Mr. Lippitt; I wouldn't do that without your permission. I only know what I'm able to scan from the people around here.'

'Garth's on his way to California. We think Siegmund Loge may be at the Institute for the Study of Human Potential, in northern California. He's traveling in a van with, believe it or not, a giant and a gorilla.'

Rafferty frowned. 'Something's wrong.'

'What?' I breathed as I edged forward on the divan.

'It's bad news I picked up this morning-I was waiting until we had the other things out of the way. The van was captured a few hours ago. Garth wasn't in it. There was only the giant, a gorilla, and some other animal that nobody-at least not the man I was scanning-seemed able to identify. It was wearing clothes, but it definitely wasn't a man.'

I must have made a noise-a sigh, a moan, a shout, a scream. Then I must have fainted, because the next thing I knew I was on the floor with Rafferty hovering over me and Lippitt cradling my head in his arms. I remembered about the animal wearing clothes, and I opened my mouth to make another noise.

'You've got to hold it together, Frederickson,' Lippitt said in a voice that was as firm as his touch was gentle. 'If Garth is past help, that's it; if not, we'll move as quickly as possible to help him. Your falling apart won't solve anything, and it will create problems. You're needed-for yourself, and to help Rafferty and me. To help all of us.'

'I'm all right now,' I said tersely as I got to my feet and pushed Lippitt away from me. I looked up into the concerned, brooding face of Victor Rafferty. 'You know we're being hunted, but you don't know why Loge wants Garth and me, do you?'

Rafferty shook his head. 'The men I've been scanning don't know.'

'You'd better look,' I said as I again touched my head, then removed my parka. 'It will explain the smoked glasses and the battery pack around my waist.'

'Scan me, too,' Lippitt said.

A sensation like the tickling of a psychic feather joined the magnetic wind inside my mind as I rolled up my sleeves to bare my scales, held up my hands and spread the fingers; I'd cut away the webs three days before, but they were already growing back.

It took Rafferty less than a minute to extract Lippitt's story and mine from our minds. During that time, shadows moved in his eyes and across his face-pain, horror, pity, shock, outrage, rage, determination. Then the tickling stopped. 'God,' he said in a near whisper as he stepped forward and put both his hands on my shoulders.

'We want you to come with us to Washington,' Lippitt said to the telepath. 'You'll be able to tell us who it's safe to talk to.'

'It's too late for that, Lippitt,' Rafferty replied.

'Why? We need to put a stop to this, and fast. To do that, we need some big political and military guns.'

'Those guns could end up aimed at us.'

'But you said- '

'I said the government wasn't involved-but it might as well be. There's a large conspiracy, and many of the people involved control the levers of power, both political and military. I can find somebody for you to talk to safely, but I can't scan over the telephone; I can't scan the people that man will talk to-or, in turn, the people those people will talk to. At the moment there are only these Warriors after you. Go to Washington, and you're likely to have the F.B.I., the military, and every local police department after you as well. Orders will go out.'

It was my turn to look at Lippitt. He looked away.

'We have to go to California right away,' I said.

'No!' Lippitt snapped. His face was uncharacteristically flushed. 'That's not the way! It's a miracle we've gotten this far, and sooner or later our luck is going to run out! We can't keep bucking the odds, Frederickson; now that there's an alternative, we have no right not to exercise it. Too much depends on us. We need help. We have to go to Washington.'

'You go wherever you want,' I said as I brushed past the D.I.A. operative and headed for the door. 'I'm going after my brother.'

'No!' Lippitt shouted, reaching out and grabbing my arm, pulling me back. 'You're my proof, you dumb little dwarf bast- ' Lippitt abruptly released my arm, flushed again and turned away. 'I'm sorry, Frederickson; truly sorry. But I need you. Without your symptoms and story to back me up, they'll just lock me away.'

'Mongo's absolutely right, Lippitt,' Rafferty said quietly. 'Siegmund Loge has accomplished what he has through the uncanny ability to play on and manipulate people's mind-sets and fantasies. You've fallen into the same trap with your mind-set, except that you've trapped yourself. You can't believe that a country which you love so much, and to which you've devoted your life, could be involved in something like the Valhalla Project. Well, it's not, so you can take comfort in that; however, a lot of powerful people who work for that country are very deeply involved, so you needn't be a fool and risk playing into their hands. Your fantasy is that everything is going to turn out all right if you can get the right people, your people, in government involved. The chance of our succeeding alone may be hopelessly slim, but it's the only chance. You don't want to go to Washington because you think it's the best, or only, move; you want to go to validate your belief in the United States of America.'

'I want to make a phone call,' Lippitt said in a strangled voice.

'Lippitt, that's a really dumb idea,' I said.

'One phone call-to a onetime friend who now sits on the Joint Chiefs of Staff. His name is General Baggins. We served together in World War Two, and I'd trust the man with my life.'

'You'll be trusting him with a hell of a lot more than just your life, my friend. It's a dumb idea.'

'One phone call,' Lippitt said. 'I'll tell him everything that's happened, try to convince him of the need for speed. He has the juice to have a battalion of Marines circling the Institute an hour after I hang up. Then it would