"Yes. The disease serves as the vehicle."
With a brisk motion, Marley drew his needler from his breast pocket and aimed it steadily at David. "Give it to me!"
"You're rather ambiguous," said David. How were his friends getting along? Were they ready yet? Had Karl visited the basement lab? "Do you mean you want me to give you the injection to prolong your life, or the secret of how to do it, or what?"
"Don't quibble! First you'll give me the injection to make me immortal. Then you'll turn over to me all your notes on procedure. Then my friend here will needle you with a shaft of electrons and end your interest in the problem."
"Surely you won't keep such a good thing all for yourself," said David. "What about Dr. Lanza? He's your right-hand man. Don't you want him to live forever, too? What about Officer Magnun? He's a faithful servant."
"You're stalling, Wong. Do you want me to kill you now?"
"It won't be wise to needle me yet, Leader Marley. The secret would be lost forever."
"I'll have your notes!"
"Yes? Try to read them. They're written in Coptic, a dead language that you consider it a waste of time to learn, because such knowledge is impractical. There aren't half a dozen men on Earth who could make head or tail of my notebook."
"Then I'll find that half-dozen! I want the injection." He gestured with the gleaming weapon.