The Language Of Cannibals

But the folksinger had eyes only for Garth and no time for my piquant observations. I wasn't even sure she'd heard me.

'There's such a strange mix in you,' she said, still staring at Garth. 'There's no cruelty in you, and yet I sense a great capacity for violence. . even brutality. At the same time there's this incredible gentleness in you, which is what I'm seeing right now. You're like some great jungle cat, ready to either purr or pounce at any given moment. I suspect that with some people you display infinite patience, and no patience at all with others. A half hour ago you were prepared to kill two men on sight.'

'Oh, I'm still prepared to kill those two particular men on sight,' Garth said mildly.

'I don't understand how you can live with those kinds of emotional extremes, two personalities which are contradictory, and at war in you.'

Garth merely shrugged. 'I don't see, or feel, any contradiction. Different types of people elicit different reactions and require different handling.'

I said, 'Garth has never hurt anyone who wasn't truly deserving, Mary.'

'Violence begets violence,' the woman said quietly, her tone slightly accusatory, but also uncertain.

'There's nothing complicated about me, Mary,' Garth said evenly. 'I am what you feel I am.'

'But what I feel you are would be-is-quite different from what Gregory Trex or Jay Acton would feel if they met up with you.'

Garth finished bandaging my head, using thin strips of surgical tape to secure the end of the bandage just behind my left ear. It was an excellent job, much better than had been done at the hospital; I felt considerably less pressure on the gash over my right eye and on the wound on the side of my head. Garth studied his handiwork for a few moments, grunted with satisfaction, then turned to face Mary and resumed speaking as if no time had passed between her words and his.

'Mary, you're a person who would sacrifice her life to save the life of another. But there are people who would gladly accept your sacrifice and laugh at you as they spat on your corpse. Dying for those kinds of people makes no sense to someone like me; you'll save far more lives if you just kill them and be done with it. It's what's called for, and it's what they really deserve. To me, your way of thinking is hopelessly complicated, like your behavior. I don't understand it. But it doesn't matter, because you've more than earned the right to think and behave as you like. I think we're about the same age. At a time long ago when my biggest concerns were pimples and finding ways to get girls to go out with me, you were already a world-class performer, singing on stages around the world and using your music to try to get nations to stop wasting their money on arms and use it to feed their people. You'd fight evil with a song, and that makes you the bravest person I know. I've always loved your music, and I've always thought you were just about the sexiest woman alive. Those tapes you gave Mongo to give me were a very fine gift, and I thank you.'

Mary blushed-but she did not take her eyes away from Garth's. It certainly looked to me like the beginning of a mutual admiration society.

I said, 'Let's eat.'

The three of us sat cross-legged on the floor around the tray, making sandwiches from the bread and cold cuts and drinking the fresh-squeezed orange juice. With some food in my stomach, and my swollen right eye beginning to open, I felt a little better; my vision was not quite so blurred, and my headache was no worse than what I might suffer from a serious hangover-pesky, but not hopelessly debilitating.

'Well, Mongo,' Garth said when we finished eating, 'now I think it's time to evaluate our situation. I'd say we're in a peck of trouble. What do you say?'

I looked at Mary, grinned. 'That brother of mine is such a perceptive analyst. Some of his insights will take your breath away.'

Garth smiled benignly at me. 'A local loony wants you dead because you embarrassed him. The KGB wants you dead because you can unmask one of their top agents. A very powerful right-winger and his FBI buddy would probably be just as happy if either the KGB or the local loony succeeds in getting you dead, because then you won't be in a position to embarrass them. The police around here turn out to be local errand boys who are willing to lock you up on a trumped-up murder charge, which has probably been engineered so that some sniper will know where to find you in order to put a bullet through your head. The FBI could probably guarantee your-our-safety, but Culhane's buddy Hendricks will make sure the FBI doesn't touch you-us-with a ten- mile-long pole. You're a fugitive from justice, and a warrant for my arrest is going to be issued just as soon as the police find out you're missing. Having talked to you means that both Mary and I are marked for death. The FBI will almost certainly ignore what we have to say, the local police can't guarantee our safety, and there are no good guys in the local vicinity; it seems all the guys around here are bad, hopelessly biased, blind, buffaloed, or simply don't want to be bothered. Have I left anything out?'

'No, I think that about covers it.'

'Now, what's our next move?'

'Surely you jest,' I said with a shrug. 'Our next move is obvious; we call in the very old, very bald cavalry.'

'My thinking exactly,' Garth said, and turned to Mary. 'Where's the nearest phone?'

'There are three, but they're all down on the first floor-two in our offices, and one for personal use in our recreation room.'

'You don't have one in your room?'

'No.'

'Can I get down there and use the phone without anyone seeing me?'

Mary grimaced. 'I'm not sure, Garth. We have some early risers here. You'd have to go through the main living areas to get to any of the phones, and you'd have to stand out in the open to use them.'

Garth grunted, then pushed himself to his feet and began searching through the dusty rubble in the storage room. In an old rolltop desk he found yellowed paper and a stub of a pencil. He wrote on the paper, then came back across the room and handed the slip to Mary.

'This is a number where you can reach a friend of ours,' he said, smiling reassuringly. 'His name is Mr. Lippitt. It isn't necessary that you know who he is or what he does. He's a heavyweight, and he can guarantee our safety until we get this business all straightened out. When you call that number, somebody will answer by repeating the number. Identify yourself as a friend of Robert and Garth Frederickson, say you want to talk to Mr. Lippitt, and state that it's a 'Valhalla priority.''

Mary studied the name and number on the slip of paper, then looked up at Garth and me. 'Valhalla priority? What does that mean?'

'It's not important,' Garth said curdy, shaking his head. 'After you make the call, you'll forget those words, Mr. Lippitt's name, and the number. Also, please destroy the paper immediately. What will happen is that you'll get through to Mr. Lippitt at once, with no questions asked, no matter where he is. He won't have much to say, and he'll probably be suspicious because he doesn't know you. Just tell him what's happened; tell him everything Mongo told you. Tell him where we are, and why we need him to help us get out of here. There should be men here within the hour to take us out, maybe by helicopter.'

'Wow,' Mary said softly as she once again looked at the slip of paper in her hand.

'Everything's going to be all right, Mary,' Garth said evenly as he helped her to her feet. 'Just make the call. Try not to be seen, but if you are just act as if nothing is wrong.'

'I'll be right back,' Mary said, and once more slipped out of the room.

'There's going to be a lot of nasty fallout from this, Garth,' I said. 'Hendricks and everyone else at the FBI are going to go apeshit when they find out Lippitt has muddied up their turf. Gregory Trex and Jay Acton and Dan Mosely's buddy-buddy relationship with Elysius Culhane notwithstanding, it's going to be hard to explain why I felt it necessary to skip away from police custody, and why you felt it was necessary to aid and abet me. You had to be there. They're going to say we overreacted.'

'As long as we all get out of Cairn alive, anybody can say anything he likes.'

'I'm thinking of Mr. Lippitt; he's not exactly a favorite son of the right wing. He could be accused of helping two of his friends elude justice, at considerable expense to the taxpayers. You know the right wing controls a lot of newspaper space and airtime. We don't want Mr. Lippitt hurt.'

Garth shook his head. 'Mr. Lippitt can take care of himself in any war, bureaucratic or otherwise. If he's smart, and we know he is, he'll send a second team to snatch Acton. With Elysius Culhane's KGB staff member on