she knew it was entirely a subjective change. The trees seemed to
stretch into mutant shapes, their limbs bonier, their shadows darker.
“Let’s go,” she said.
He nodded, apparently understanding her thoughts and perceiving the same
change of mood that she felt.
He started the car, pulled onto the road. When they had rounded the
next bend, they saw another sign, LAKE ARROWHEAD-I 5 MILES.
Eric looked over the other tools in the garage, seeking another
instrument for his arsenal. He saw nothing useful.
He returned to the house. In the kitchen, he put the ax on the table
and pulled open a few drawers until he located a set of knives. He
chose twa butcher’s knife and a smaller, pointier blade.
With an ax and two knives, he was prepared for both arm’s-length combat
and close-in fighting. He still wished he had a gun, but at least he
was no longer defenseless. If someone came looking for him, he would be
able to take care of himself. He would do them serious damage before
they brought him down, a prospect that gave him some satisfaction and
that, somewhat to his surprise, brought a sudden grin to his face.
The in ice, the mice, the bitiiig, frenzied mice.
Damn. He shook his head.
The In ice, mice, mice, maniacal, clawing, spitting.
That crazy thought, like a fragment of a demented nursery rhyme, spun
thmugh his mind again, frightening him, and when he tried to focus on
it, tried to understand it, his thoughts grew muddy once more, and he
simply could not grasp the meaning of the mice.
The mice, mice, bloody-eyed, bashing against cage walls…
When he continued to strain for the elusive memory of the mice, a
throbbing white pain filled his head from crown to temples and burned
across the bridge of his nose, but when he stopped trying to remember
and attempted, instead, to put the mice out of his mind, the pain grew
even worse, a sledgehammer striking rhythmically behind his eyes. He
had to grit his teeth to endure it, broke out in a sweat, and with the
sweat came anger duller than the pain but growing even as the pain grew,
unfocused anger at first but not for long. He said, “Rachael, Rachael,”
and clenched the butcher’s knife. “Rachael .
o 19
SHARP AND THE STONE On arriving at the hospital in Palm Springs, Anson
Sharp had done easily what Jerry Peake had been unable to do with mighty
striving. In ten minutes, he turned Nurse Alma Dunn’s stonefaced
implacability to dust, and he shattered Dr. Werfell’s authoritarian
calm, reducing both of them to nervous, uncertain, respectful,
cooperative citizens. Theirs was grudging cooperation, but it was
cooperation nonetheless, and Peake was deeply impressed. Though Sarah
Kiel was still under the influence of the sedatives that she had taken
in the middle of the night, Werfell agreed to wake her by whatever means
necessary.
As always, Peake watched Sharp closely, trying to learn how the deputy
director achieved his effects, much as a young magician might study a
master prestidigitator’s every move upon the stage. For one thing,
Sharp used his formidable size to intimidate, he stood close, towering
over his adversaries, staring down ominously, huge shoulders drawn up,
full of pent-up violence, a volatile man. Yet the threat never became
overt, and in fact Sharp frequently smiled.
Of course, the smile was a weapon, too, for it was too wide, too full of
teeth, utterly humorless, and strange.
More important than Sharp’s size was his use of every trick available to
a highly placed government agent.
Before leaving the Geneplan labs in Riverside, he had employed his
Defense Security Agency authority to make several telephone calls to
various federal regulatory agencies in Washington, from whose computer
files he had obtained what information he could on Desert General
Hospital and Dr. Hans Werfell, information that could be used to
strong-arm them.
Desert General’s record was virtually spotless. The very highest
standards for staff physicians, nurses, and technicians were strictly
enforced, nine years had passed since a malpractice suit had been filed
against the hospital, and no suit had ever been successful, the
patient-recovery rate for every illness and surgical procedure was