picks out the biggest things first; in this case the huge form of Carlsbad's Japanese, his flesh in folds over his tremendous chest and stomach, truly a mountain of a man. Beside him, looking thinner than he actually was, stood a gray-haired man with intense blue eyes and next to him Rita Kenmore, now in black slacks and a yellow jersey top. I looked at Carlsbad. At least I knew he was really here.
One of the men standing behind Rita was holding Wilhelmina in his hand. I could feel Hugo still safely strapped to my forearm. The other people in the temple gathered in a semicircle to stare at me. Most of them were oriental but not all, and there was something strange about the whole lot of them. Mostly men, the group contained some women, and most had lined, old faces though there was a sprinkling of younger, well-built males. But all of them had a haunted expression in their eyes, an expression of inner pain. A number of them were crippled and deformed. The old woman finished wiping away my makeup and rose to step back.
Beyond the onlookers I saw corridors leading away from the main part of the temple. Against the far wall rows of candles burned at a kind of altar, a long, flat slab of rock with a peculiar sculpture hanging behind it — a sculpture of twisted, blackened metal and pieces of bone. Carlsbad's voice brought my attention back to him.
"This is the man who almost prevented your getting away with Rita?" he was saying to the large Japanese. The wrestler nodded.
"I'm impressed by your discovery of our little nest," Carlsbad said to me. "How did you manage that?"
"Clean living," I said and the Japanese started to reach one huge hand down to me.
Carlsbad stopped him. "No, let him alone. He can do us no harm. In fact, we can keep him here. He may be of value eventually."
The giant Japanese straightened up but his eyes, small in the folds of his huge head, glittered. He said nothing and I wondered if he was as subservient as Carlsbad seemed to think.
"Where is X–V77?" I asked Carlsbad.
"Here and quite safe, for the moment," the bacteriologist answered. I glanced at Rita and tried to read what was behind those china-blue eyes. I thought I saw uncertainty and I turned back to Carlsbad.
"You've already killed four men over this," I said and saw Rita quickly glance at him. Now I knew what I had seen in her eyes. Surprise, shock. Carlsbad directed his words to me, but he was answering her questioning look.
"A small price to pay to achieve what must be achieved."
"And what's that?" I questioned.
'To make the world's leaders stop their misuse of science," Carlsbad said.
He gestured to those standing by. "Everyone here is a victim of the immorality of present-day science and politics. Every individual here is a victim of one or another scientific advance which, by its use,
is
really injuring mankind."
"For instance?" I asked. "That big oaf looks healthy."
"Mr, Kiyishi, like many of the others, was a child in Hiroshima at the time of the bombing," Carlsbad explained. "He is sterile, unable to produce a child. Some of my people here are workmen, crippled externally or internally by constant exposure to radioactivity in the plants in which they worked. Some were soldiers, permanently disabled by exposure to nerve gases. Others were fishermen whose stomachs are largely gone due to eating fish contaminated by insecticides.
"There are fifteen families here, fifteen out of two hundred killed in the mountains of the Caucasus when a Russian plane accidentally dropped a container of bacteriological viruses. The incident was kept completely silent. In America, thousands of sheep were killed in a similar accident, sheep which could easily have been people."
As I listened to him, I realized with a chilling horror that Carlsbad had gone far beyond the role of a protesting man of science. He was setting up a kind of elite of the damned, with what sounded like political and moral overtones.
"I think we should kill him at once,"
One of the men standing behind Rita was holding Wilhelmina in his hand. I could feel Hugo still safely strapped to my forearm. The other people in the temple gathered in a semicircle to stare at me. Most of them were oriental but not all, and there was something strange about the whole lot of them. Mostly men, the group contained some women, and most had lined, old faces though there was a sprinkling of younger, well-built males. But all of them had a haunted expression in their eyes, an expression of inner pain. A number of them were crippled and deformed. The old woman finished wiping away my makeup and rose to step back.
Beyond the onlookers I saw corridors leading away from the main part of the temple. Against the far wall rows of candles burned at a kind of altar, a long, flat slab of rock with a peculiar sculpture hanging behind it — a sculpture of twisted, blackened metal and pieces of bone. Carlsbad's voice brought my attention back to him.
"This is the man who almost prevented your getting away with Rita?" he was saying to the large Japanese. The wrestler nodded.
"I'm impressed by your discovery of our little nest," Carlsbad said to me. "How did you manage that?"
"Clean living," I said and the Japanese started to reach one huge hand down to me.
Carlsbad stopped him. "No, let him alone. He can do us no harm. In fact, we can keep him here. He may be of value eventually."
The giant Japanese straightened up but his eyes, small in the folds of his huge head, glittered. He said nothing and I wondered if he was as subservient as Carlsbad seemed to think.
"Where is X–V77?" I asked Carlsbad.
"Here and quite safe, for the moment," the bacteriologist answered. I glanced at Rita and tried to read what was behind those china-blue eyes. I thought I saw uncertainty and I turned back to Carlsbad.
"You've already killed four men over this," I said and saw Rita quickly glance at him. Now I knew what I had seen in her eyes. Surprise, shock. Carlsbad directed his words to me, but he was answering her questioning look.
"A small price to pay to achieve what must be achieved."
"And what's that?" I questioned.
'To make the world's leaders stop their misuse of science," Carlsbad said.
He gestured to those standing by. "Everyone here is a victim of the immorality of present-day science and politics. Every individual here is a victim of one or another scientific advance which, by its use,
is
really injuring mankind."
"For instance?" I asked. "That big oaf looks healthy."
"Mr, Kiyishi, like many of the others, was a child in Hiroshima at the time of the bombing," Carlsbad explained. "He is sterile, unable to produce a child. Some of my people here are workmen, crippled externally or internally by constant exposure to radioactivity in the plants in which they worked. Some were soldiers, permanently disabled by exposure to nerve gases. Others were fishermen whose stomachs are largely gone due to eating fish contaminated by insecticides.
"There are fifteen families here, fifteen out of two hundred killed in the mountains of the Caucasus when a Russian plane accidentally dropped a container of bacteriological viruses. The incident was kept completely silent. In America, thousands of sheep were killed in a similar accident, sheep which could easily have been people."
As I listened to him, I realized with a chilling horror that Carlsbad had gone far beyond the role of a protesting man of science. He was setting up a kind of elite of the damned, with what sounded like political and moral overtones.
"I think we should kill him at once,"
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