Why hadn’t he chosen some other world on which to hide?
The last question prompted a new thought. Just why had he chosen St. Martin’s? Was it only a coincidence? Or had he, subconsciously at least, picked this particular world? He had always considered himself the unwilling subject of glib persuaders … but mightn’t some inner compulsion of his own have put the monkey on his back?
“… and we need your help.” Johnson had finished his speech.
Zarwell gazed up at the bright sky. He pulled in a long breath, and let it out in a sigh.
“What are your plans so far?” he asked wearily.
—CHARLES V. DE VET
