The Dark Design by Phillip Jose Farmer

“She just never brought it up before because it didn’t seem important. It still wasn’t, but she was curious, and since the subject was brought up, she remembered to ask me. You know how curious women are.”

“Women have the curiosity of cats,” Burton said, and he chuc­kled. “Whereas men are as curious as monkeys.” “What? What does that mean?”

“I don’t know, but it sounds deep. I’ll think up an explanation later. So, it was Loghu’s remarks that made you remember the events preceding and following your entry into Monat’s place?” “Not right away, Burton-naq. I got to puzzling about what she said. I really strained my brain. I could hear the tissues ripping. Finally, I could remember, in a dim way, how we meant to go into Pete’s hut. Then I could remember Loghu being there and Monat saying they’d use his hut. And after a while… I could faintly recollect going into there.

“While you was talking didn’t you notice me sitting there by the fire, frowning away like there was a thunderstorm on my brow?”

“I just thought you’d taken too much to eat and drink, as usual.”

“That, too. But it wasn’t no farts storming around inside me. It was gas on the brain.”

“Since you’ve recalled this, you haven’t said anything to Monat or Frigate about it?”

“No.”

“Don’t, then.”

Kazz had a low forehead, but he was not unintelligent.

“You think there’s something phony about those two?”

Burton said, “I don’t know. I’d hate to think so. After all these years . .. and they are good friends. At least . . .”

“It don’t seem possible,” Kazz said. He sounded as if his heart were about to break.

“What doesn’t?”

“I don’t know what. But it has to be something bad.”

“I don’t know that,” Burton said. “There may be a very good explanation other than the one I’m thinking of. Anyway, don’t mention this to anyone.”

“I won’t. Only … listen, those two do have symbols on their heads. They always had them. So, if them agents didn’t have them at one time, Pete and Monat couldn’t be agents!”

Burton smiled. Kazz’s thoughts were his. Nevertheless, he had to look into this. How could he do it without putting the two on guard? Of course, they might have nothing to hide.

“Yes, I know. Don’t forget that Besst has also seen their sym­bols. So we have double confirmation, not that we need it.

“In any course, mum’s the word until I say otherwise.”

They started to walk toward the Snark. Kazz said, “I don’t know. I sure have a bad feeling about this. Wish I’d kept my mouth shut. Loghu would say something about it.”

25

Burton paced back and forth on the deck in the fog. though his body was warm in the cloths, his face was chilled. An unusually cold body of air had moved into the area, and as a result the mists were piled halfway up the mast. He could not see beyond his outstretched arms.

As far as he knew, everybody aboard except himself was asleep. His only company were his thoughts. These tended to stray as if they were sheep on a hillside. Burton had to work hard to bring them back, arrange them in an orderly band, keep them moving toward pasture. And what was pasture? Bitter eating.

There were thirty-three years to cover in his memory. It was a selective process, one which concentrated on Monat and Frigate. What actions, what words of theirs were suspicious? What could be fitted into a dark jigsaw puzzle?

There were very few people available. There might be more, but he could be looking at them and not even realize that they were pieces.

That terrible, joyous day, the day that he had awakened from the dead, he had met the Arcturan first of all. Of all those he had encountered that day, Monat had acted most calmly and rationally. He had taken stock of the situation amazingly fast, checked out the environment, and immediately understood the purpose of the grails.

The second person Burton had especially noticed was the Nean­derthal, Kazz. He, however, had not tried to talk to Burton at first. He had merely followed him for a while. Peter Frigate had been the second person to talk to Burton. And, now that Burton considered it, Frigate had been rather easy and casual in manner. This was strange in view of Frigate’s claim that he suffered from anxiety and hysteria.