The Cold Smell Of Sacred Stone

reaction to a stimulus. The music, and your role, wasn't mentioned, but the possibility of increased awareness was.'

'How the hell does Lippitt know that?'

'It seems your old friend has his own means of keeping track of what goes on in that clinic. He's been closely following Garth's progress since the day he arrived here. He knows all about the conflict between Slycke and you, because Slycke has been bitching about Lippitt and you to anyone who'll listen.'

'That's almost funny,' I said, and laughed without humor.

'What's almost funny?'

'Slycke has been worried about me being sent to spy on him, and all the while Lippitt must know every time the man farts. It makes me wonder if Lippitt gave me that high-powered pass to distract Slycke from the real spy, or spies, Lippitt has in there.'

'That seems unlikely, Mongo, judging from the way he obviously feels about the two of you. But you know Mr. Lippitt better than I do.'

'Nobody really knows Mr. Lippitt. I don't think anyone but Lippitt even knows how old he is; they just know he's old.'

'Mr. Lippitt's thinking is that Garth, in hindsight, would know exactly who it was who tried to kill him. The K.G.B.-if that's who was behind it-would be very much afraid of that. As soon as it looked like Garth might be coming around, the two agents were given hasty marching orders.'

'I told you: Garth hardly talks at all, and what he does say doesn't make a whole lot of sense.'

'When the information was passed on, nobody knew what Garth would or wouldn't say; the source of concern was that he might be talking at all.'

'That would mean Lippitt isn't the only one with eyes and ears in the clinic.'

'Precisely Mr. Lippitt's concern. If his notion has any validity at all, it means there's a K.G.B. agent operating right under Slycke's nose.'

Even paranoids could have real enemies, I thought. And valid reasons to be afraid. 'Jesus,' I said, 'it could be Slycke himself. It would certainly explain the supersnit he's been in since Garth and I showed up, wouldn't it? Maybe he has damn good reasons for fearing that Lippitt sent me to spy on him.'

Veil shrugged. 'He's certainly made no secret of his distrust and suspicion of you. I think a trained operative would be a good deal more subtle.'

'Maybe he's being subtle by not being subtle.'

Veil smiled. 'That's too subtle. Of course, it could be Slycke-but it could also be anybody with access to clinical information; it could be any of the psychiatrists, nurses, or other workers up there. It could even be a patient who'd been carefully planted; from what I understand, virtually anyone up there could have walked into Garth's room at any time, day or night, and seen the notation on Garth's chart.'

'True-except for the patients in the secure unit.'

Veil raised his eyebrows slightly. 'People easily fall into predictable routines, Mongo, as you well know. People working at night often take naps at certain times. If I were an operative working a place like that, I'd prefer to be in a secure unit where my movements were supposedly severely restricted. I'd simply make certain I had a key.'

'A good point. But all this talk is highly hypothetical, right?'

'Highly. Mr. Lippitt simply asked me to share his notion with you-and to tell you not to try to look into it on your own, in case you're curious.'

'I'm much more skeptical than I am curious, but even if it were the other way around, I wouldn't do any kind of snooping while Garth is up there. He's too vulnerable.'

'Yes. Lippitt didn't come right out and say so, Mongo, but I got the feeling he might like it if I rode shotgun for you for a while. Is there anything I can do for you or Garth?'

I shook my head, absently touched the slightly puckered, still tender flesh just above my eyebrows. 'I really can't think of anything, but thanks for the offer. Besides, the more I think about it, the more I doubt there's any connection between Garth coming around and the two guys taking off. Any spy sneaking in to read the chart could see with his own eyes that Garth wasn't ready to give speeches. Garth was nowhere until last night. I say you were right the first time; the K.G.B. agents, if that's what they are, got wind of the surveillance and decided to leave while the getting was good.'

'You could be right,' Veil said evenly. 'But you'll keep your eyes open, won't you?'

'Sure.'

'You want to look at your scar?'

'Not really. I hope it's sexy.'

'I'm sure.'

'Thanks for coming up to see me, Veil, and for delivering the message. I'll call Lippitt as soon as I get a chance and thank him, too.'

'How about letting me take you out to dinner?'

I shook my head. 'I'd really enjoy spending some time with you, and it would be good for me, but Garth should be back in his room soon. They've been running tests on him all day, and I'm a little anxious to find out the results.'

'Of course.'

'Thanks again for driving up. I needed to see a friendly face.'

'You'll see me again-soon. How about if I walk you to wherever it is you're going?' 'I'd like that.'

8

I was early, and Garth was going to be late. The guard in the kiosk had a note for me, from Tommy; Garth's testing was going to take at least an hour longer than anticipated, and the male nurse wanted me to come up to his apartment in the staff quarters for a drink and a sandwich.

It was kind of Tommy to extend the invitation; I didn't feel like hanging around the clinic for an uncertain amount of time with nothing to do but worry. But I didn't feel like hanging around with Tommy Carling either. It wasn't company I needed, but release from the anxiety and tension inexorably building inside me. I needed exercise.

I figured it would take me just about an hour to hoof it around the reservoir next to the hospital, if I didn't pause to watch the birds, and that seemed about right. Walking at a fast clip, swinging my arms like a drum major and not caring how comical I might look, taking deep breaths, I zipped down the center of the main thoroughfare, turned left after I passed through the gates on the eastern side of the hospital grounds.

Fifteen minutes later I had reached the bridge spanning the reservoir. The fast walking and deep breathing had leached away a lot of my tension, and I felt better. Not wanting to work up more of a sweat than I already had, I stopped to rest in the middle of the span, leaned on the metal railing and stared down at the surface of the water, which was glinting and moving like a chestful of living jewelry as it reflected the last slanting rays of the setting sun.

The harsh revving of an engine in the stillness, on an otherwise empty road, startled me and made me turn to my left-not a moment too soon.

The sun was almost directly in my eyes, so I couldn't see who was driving the pickup truck that was barreling at high speed down the center of the road, straddling the white line; but I definitely didn't like the looks of what I could see, and I tensed, both hands firmly placed on the top of the bridge railing, and waited, wondering whether the driver was just in a big hurry, drunk, hoping to put a bit of a scare into me, or all three. The pickup truck continued to accelerate; when it was about fifteen yards away it abruptly swerved, coming right at me.

I went in the only direction left to me-up and over the railing. I twisted in the air, and on the way back down once again grabbed hold of the railing, saving myself a dunking. The side of the truck banged into and scraped against the railing at the spot where I had been standing only a moment before. Sparks flew and I turned my face away-but not before I had seen a large decal of the familiar RPC logo on the door of the green truck; the vehicle was part of the hospital's maintenance fleet.