Wolfe looked at him cautiously. “I think you know.” “I don’t. I’m sorry.” Wolfe saw Peter’s eyes dart away, as if he were about to tell a lie. “What was that threat he made? Who does he think I saw?” Wolfe continued to eye him. “You tell me. Did you see someone? Have you been with anyone?” Peter stared back, too fixedly. “No,” he said. Wolfe let it go. “I believe you.
“And what’s this about others’?”
“Naturally,” said Wolfe, beginning to rummage through Henderson’s desk, “if it works out with you, there will be further attempts. That was always the Society’s plan.” “But that’s not quite what he said, is it? Are there others in the works?” Careful, thought Wolfe. This man’s senses are at their peak, and even before he could always smell an outright lie. “In the works? No. You’re the only one, Peter, I swear.” Under a pile of Soldier of Fortunes in Henderson’s drawer he found a fifth of Jim Beam. “Eureka,” Wolfe said. He took a brief swig, then offered it to Peter, who shook his head. “This body didn’t drink.’
“But your brain does. Come on, I miss my old pub-crawling pal.” Relenting, Peter took the bottle, drank, and winced. “Christian Barnard or Mengele?” “I’m sorry?”
“Which doctor are we, Freddy? How will we be remembered?” “Oh” said Wolfe, savoring the bourbon rush, “I thought it was something like that.” “And I know what you’re going to say. If we stopped every time we got cold feet, we’d still be living on a flat earth without penicillin.” The liquor burned in his gut, but his head felt a nudge of relief. “Praying to the savage gods,” said Wolfe, “atop bloody ziggurats. Actually, I wasn’t going to take that tack-” “You ever read Gulliver’s Travels?”
“Not since I was ten years old.”
“You remember the Studbugs? Or the Struldbruggs, or some damn thing?” He accepted the bottle one more time, what the hell. He had his own fond memories of drinking with Wolfe in the old days. “Anyway, Swift had Gulliver find this place where people were born every so often who wouldn’t die. The only difference between them and everyone else was that they had a red dot on their foreheads and they lived forever. And what happened was that everybody who had a normal life span grew to despise the Studbugs. Everybody got born, lived and died, but the damned red-dot ones stayed around forever.” “As I recall,” said Wolfe, “they made them their leaders.” “You’re thinking of some other book,” said Peter. “Everybody hated them because they hogged everything. They never died or left their land or money to anybody; they never gave up the business to the son, or disappeared so that the daughter could assume the full mantle of adulthood. Oh, and they stank after a while, too. You see what I’m saying?” “Actually, I don’t.”
Peter looked at him. Could he be this out of touch with what now seemed to be an obvious truth? “Species need to refresh themselves, Freddy, not be thrown into artificial stasis! We’re trying to do an end run around two billion years of evolution.” Wolfe emitted a sharp laugh. He leaned across the desk. “We’re two billion years of evolution, you sap! It’s the Entopic Principle, Peter-the laws of nature exist because our brains can imagine them. And improve upon them. We’re evolution’s quantum leap. We labored through trial and error for millions of years until we invented ourselves! We go from biplanes to lunar-landing craft in a single lifetime now, and if it can be thought of it can be done. And will be done. Period.” Peter took that in for a moment, then countered, aiming for the sole weak spot he thought Wolfe might have. “What’s Alex up to?” “What?” said Wolfe.
“Why is he sending out e-mails?”
“E-mails? I don’t know what you mean,” he said. “My impression is that Alex is back on board. Is there something I should know?” he asked, watching Peter carefully. The frightened look had come back into Peter’s eyes-the same look as when Henderson had threatened his so-called love toy-and it occurred to Wolfe that maybe there was someone. Well, if there was, she shouldn’t be that difficult to find. “I’m sorry, Peter, I’m not following,” he said. “I think you follow more than you want me to know,” Peter said. “And why, by the way, have you been seeing so much of Beatrice?” Somebody has to, thought Wolfe, realizing with a start that he had almost said it out loud. “You’ve behaved badly to Beatrice,” he said stiffly, putting the bottle down. “If I try to console her, I consider I’m doing three people a favor.” This seemed to chasten Peter. He took a long pull from the whiskey; this time it felt good. “In any case, thank you for calling off your dog,” he said. “Henderson isn’t my dog,” said Wolfe, “so there’s no way I can call him off. If you get my drift.” “I do,” said Peter.
“It’s serious business, Peter. Many lives are at stake.” “Including mine.”
“I’m afraid so, yes. This is not something you opt out of. You’ve signed on for life.” “And beyond.”
“Exactly.”
“I appreciate your candor,” said Peter. “And you’re right about evolution.” “Am I? I’m glad to hear that.”
“And actually,” Peter added, rising unsteadily, “that little bit of freedom you’ve given me? I swear it’s increased my brain’s output. I think we’re almost home.” “Really, Peter?”
“Really. We’re on the verge of actually assembling the weapon.” “Lethality equal to what we saw on the range? I want to pass this on to Henderson.” “More. No residuum at all. Adversaries will simply vanish by the battalion,” said Peter, sweeping an arm through the air. “The trick will be limiting the killing, not trying to heighten it.” “So we’re home?” said Wolfe, watching Peter carefully. “I’d say so.”
“Remarkable,” said Wolfe. They were home, so Peter was expendable. Henderson had been more right than he knew “It’s strong enough to wipe out every living thing within five miles, plus break down the atomic structure of the larger molecules. Carbon molecules, for instance, might just fly apart. That might make rocks turn into miniature nuclear grenades, for all we know. And Freddy, the best part? This will confirm everything you told them the Fountain Society could deliver. You’re going to be able to write your own ticket after this. You can tell Henderson to take a hike, have the funding to do whatever kind of experiments you want to do. Take us all into the twentyfirst century.” “And no more doubts?”
“No more doubts. Except now I have to pee. “Well,” said Wolfe, “I’m glad these little talks are helping.” They both laughed, gripping hands in a firm handshake. At the door they even embraced. Wolfe watched Peter walk down the hall toward the rest room, then closed Henderson’s door. He really thought he was giving a performance, Wolfe thought. Charming the pants off me. And all for what, to buy a little time with your inamorata? Peter, dear deluded fool, I could always talk rings around you, couldn’t I? And now I know that I can drink you under the table as well. He recapped the Jim Beam, stowed it back in the drawer and pushed the button that reexposed the surveillance monitors. A video screen picked up Peter leaving the rest room, dabbing at his mouth with a paper towel. Wolfe grinned, realizing that Peter had gotten sick from the liquor. And then the most pleasant realization he had had in a long while struck him: one day very soon he, Frederick Wolfe, would truly have it all.
Later that afternoon, Peter lay on his bed staring at the ceiling’s acoustical tile. His head ached from the bourbon and his senses felt minutely dulled, but he could still feel the woman as if she were lying beside him, the texture of her hair, the touch of her hand, the taste of her mouth. For several days he had practiced fending off the memory of their night on the beach, not always with success, but now, with Henderson’s threats ringing in his ears, he found he could think of nothing but the woman. End up on the scrap heap. You and your love toy. Did that mean Henderson was already aware of her existence on the island? Had Alex Davies somehow tipped him off? Not willingly, no, he couldn’t imagine that being the case. Of all the people on the base, Wolfe included, Alex was least adept at concealing his contempt for the military. But with Alex, anything was possible. Whose side, for instance, was he on, if anybody’s? He couldn’t ask Alex directly without further implicating himself and the woman as well. Then what was he supposed to do? Warn her-tell her to take the next plane back to wherever she had come from. No. The threat was real and his duty to the woman was clear, whatever his emotions. He had promised to see her again, and now there was every reason in the world to go. For another few minutes he lay on the bed, trying to calculate how he could slip away and return without inviting any more suspicion. A key turned in the lock.