The Dark Design by Phillip Jose Farmer

No bombs were located.

Jill was not relieved. If Thorn had planned from the beginning to hide explosives, he could have placed some inside a gas cell. If he had, he had thwarted them, since there was no way they could get into the cells without releasing the irreplaceable hydrogen. It was true he’d need a transmitter, but that was a small object. It could even be disguised as something else.

This thought set off a third search in which every small mechanic­al or electrical device aboard was inspected to make sure that it was indeed what it appeared to be. All were what they were supposed to be, but the idea that there could be a disguised transmitter added to the general nervousness.

Of course, as long as Thorn was kept inside the sick bay, he could not get to a hidden transmitter. A lock had been installed on the door to sick bay, and there were always two guards on the inside and two outside.

Jill talked to Cyrano about another problem.

“Sam’s going to be bloody furious when he hears that he can’t do anything if he ever does get here. There’s no way he can get to the top of the tower from the surface of the sea. And if he did achieve the impossible, he still could do nothing to get in.

“It’s possible that one or more of his crew might be able to enter the tower, if he could get to the top. But even then, what guarantee is there what happened to Piscator wouldn’t happen to them?”

“Whatever that is,” Cyrano said gloomily. He had been almost as fond of the Japanese as he was of Firebrass.

“Did Firebrass tell you, too, about the laser hidden on the Mark Twain?”

Cyrano came alive. “Aha! What a stupid man I am! The laser! Yes, Firebrass told me about it, of course. Would he tell you and not me? I should hope to kiss a pig under its tail he would not!”

“Well, it’s possible that this metal might resist even a laser beam. But we won’t know unless we try it, will we?”

The Frenchman swiftly lapsed into gloom.

“But what do we do about the fuel situation? We cannot fly to Clemens’ boat and get the laser and return here and then get back to Parolando or the boat. We do not have enough oil for that.”

“We’ll get the laser from Sam and then go to Parolando and make some more oil and then come back here.”

“That will take much time. But it is the only thing to do. However, what if that hardheaded Clemens does not let us use the laser?”

“I don’t see how he could refuse us,” Jill said slowly. “That is the only means we have for getting into the tower.”

“Ah, yes, true: But you are saying that logic will sway Clemens. He is human, which means that he is by no means always logical. But we will see.”

Jill was so on fire with this idea that she saw no reason in waiting for Piscator any longer. If he were hurt or held prisoner by some mechanical device or by living beings, he wasn’t going to be gotten free without the laser.

First, though, Thorn had to be questioned. After ordering Cop-pename to wait until she had returned, she walked down to sick bay with Cyrano. Thorn was sitting up in bed. His right leg was enclosed by a shackle attached to a chain, the other end of which was locked to the frame of the bed.

He said nothing as they entered, and Jill was also silent for a moment as she studied him. His thick jaw was locked; his chin, even more outthrust; his dark-blue eyes, half-lidded. He looked as stubborn as Lucifer himself.

She said, “Do you want to tell us what this is all about?”

Thorn did not reply.

She had made sure that he was to be left ignorant of the crash of the helicopter until she told him.

“We know that you set off that bomb. You murdered Firebrass and Obrenova, everybody on the chopper.”

Thorn’s eyes opened fully, but his expression did not change. Or was that a slight smile at the corners of his lips?