“Exactly—enough of them to straighten out our books. Then, later, we can dispose of undesirables as they appear. Vortices are absolutely unpredictable, you know. People can die of radiation or of any one of a mixture of various toxic gases and the vortex will take the blame.”
“And later on, when it gets dangerous, Storm Cloud can blow it out for us,” Graves gloated. “But we won’t want him for a long, long time!”
“No, but we’ll report it and ask for him the hour it happens . . . use your head, Graves!” He silenced the manager’s anguished howl of protest. “Anybody who gets one wants it killed as soon as possible, but here’s the joker. Cloud has enough Class-A-double-prime-urgent demands on file already to keep him busy from now on, so we won’t be able to get him for a long, long time. See?”
“I see. Nice, Doc . . . very, very nice. But I’ll have the boys keep an eye on Cloud just the same.”
* * * * *
At about this same time two minor cogs of TPI’s vast machine sat blissfully, arms around each other, on a rustic seat improvised from rocks, branches, and leaves. Below them, almost under their feet, was a den of highly venemous snakes, but neither man or girl saw them. Before them, also unperceived, was a magnificent view of valley and stream and mountain.
All they saw, however, was each other—until their attention was wrenched to a man who was climbing toward them with the aid of a thick club which he used as a staff.
“Oh . . . Bob!” The girl stared briefly; then, with a half-articulate moan, shrank even closer against her lover’s side.
Ryder, left arm tightening around the girl’s waist, felt with his right hand for a club of his own and tensed his muscles, for the climbing man was completely mad.
His breathing was . . . horrible. Mouth tight-clamped, despite his terrific exertion, he was sniffing—sniffing loathsomely, lustfully, each whistling inhalation filling his lungs to bursting. He exhaled explosively, as though begrudging the second of time required to empty himself of air. Wide-open eyes glaring fixedly ahead he blundered upward, paying no attention whatever to his path. He tore through clumps of thorny growth; he stumbled and fell over logs and stones; he caromed away from boulders; as careless of the needles which tore clothing and skin as of the rocks which bruised his flesh to the bone. He struck a great tree and bounced; felt his frenzied way around the obstacle and back into his original line.