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Dan had seen the pictures hundreds of times so far since they'd been brought
here. He wasn't certain exactly how long he and Molly had been
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in this room surrounded by the pictures.
They'd been fed four times and he'd used the screened toilet in the corner
five times.
But that wasn't as good a way as a clock to tell time.
Suddenly there was an enormous explosion. It rattled the walls, shook the
floor.
Dan knew that if he looked he'd see Beth's body being torn to pieces.
On one wall she'd be turning into bloody fragments that ever so slowly
scattered across that Berlin morning. On another rushing apart with
accelerated swiftness.
Maybe on one wall they would freeze at the moment she started to be ripped
apart. Perhaps on another the sequence would reverse and the bloody tatters of
flesh and bone and guts would miraculously reunite and form a living, smiling
Beth.
Sometimes that last happy moment of her life would repeat and repeat and that
final smile would appear and reappear.
Another explosion came, and another.
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Molly cried out, jerked awake. "How long have I been asleep?"
she asked, lifting her head from his chest.
"Few minutes."
Gently he let go of her. He stood up, staring up at the distant ceiling. "What
the hell do you want, you bastards?"
The pictures ceased and the walls were quiet again.
The pale green robot was wearing a coarse grey monk's robe and carrying a
portable mike. "Unlike real grapes," he was saying to the string of fifteen
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tourists that was trailing him through the vast domed central building of the
Pieters Brothers Winery, "synthetic grapes are not susceptible to weather, air
defects, soil deficiencies or any of a multitude of other annoyances. In the
vat on your immediate left we're in the process of creating a new batch of our
famous Aged zinfandel.
This complex process takes a full two weeks." In the next vat, ladies and
gentlemen..."
Jake and Gomez peeled off from the line of tourists and, keeping the huge grey
vats between them and the robot guide, headed for an exit.
"If my informant is correct," said Jake once they were out in the late
morning, "Larry Knerr is residing in the second of those five rustic
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cottages yonder."
Across a wide field of imitation grass stood five thatch-roofed cottages in a
circle of tall imitation redwoods.
Making their way downhill, the partners circled the cottage they wanted and
approached it from the back side.
Gomez scanned the back door, shifting the briefcase he was carrying from his
right hand to his left. "Relatively simple alarm system," he observed. "I can
disable it in--"
"No, let's use the front way," suggested Jake. "I'm sure Larry will be pleased
to see us."
"Where in the blinking hell did you come from?" said the silver haired
reporter when he opened his cottage door and noted them on his doorstep.
Jake pushed him back into the parlor and into a chair. "I'm looking for my
son."
"Would I be flaming likely to know where he is? I'm working on a series on the
wine country for--"
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"Where is he?"
Gomez had entered and shut the door. "Okay, you didn't let me use the
electronics stuff," he said. "But, pot favor, allow me to try the truth kit,
Jake."
"We won't need it, Sid. Larry's going to tell us exactly what--"
"I'm going to tell you to take a flapping leap for yourself,
Cardigan. I don't know how you located--"
"If what you're worried about, Jake, is that last guy I questioned
Trust me, I figured out since where I went wrong."
"Sooner or later the Austrian police are going to find his body,"
said Jake, shaking his head. "I don't want to have to explain another foul up
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by you."
"It was just that I had the power turned up too high on the prod."
"I thought you told me that what went wrong was too strong a dose of truth
serum."
Gomez frowned thoughtfully. "Did I? Well, maybe--" "People don't
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usually turn that pasty white color from--" "What," inquired the uneasy
reporter, "did you chaps want to know?"
"Where's Dan?"
Knerr was watching Gomez's briefcase as it swung slowly back and forth.
"They've got him and the girl in an underground facility at Dickerson's
Jungle," he told them. "Ampersand is shooting Jungle Commandos at--"
"We'd like to get into that facility."
"I suppose you would, but you need a special electro key
"Loan us yours," requested Gomez, resting his briefcase on the floor.
"I don't have one of the blinking things. They don't trust me that far."
"How about China Vargas?"
"Right you are, she has one."
Jake asked, "Where is she at the moment?"
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