Universe Twister - Keith Laumer [209]
"Maybe Central can fix that, too.
"I can't wait that long! I have to get back and see what's going on! There's got to be a reason for that sneaking phony to have stolen my body! I want to know what it is!"
Meanwhile—how do you get out of this cage?
"Yeah—there is that," O'Leary muttered. "I can't cut my way out—and I can't wish myself out. It looks like the end of the trail. Damn! And just when I was beginning to see a little light."
There's still a lot of loose ends. What about Lom—the kindly old geezer who picked you up and fed you—and then picked your pocket?
"Yeah—what about him? Bavarian ham, yet. And Danish butter. Nobody in Artesia ever heard of Denmark or Bavaria. Or New Orleans, either!" O'Leary smacked his fist into his palm. "It's obvious! Lom's a Central agent, too."
And when he found the Focal Referent on you—he naturally assumed you were the thief—or that you were in it with Jorlemagne—
"So he took steps to get rid of you. Dumped you in Thallathlone."
Uh-huh. But I got away—by a fluke—and wound up back here. Nice work, O'Leary. Which is better—a nice cool cell in Thallathlone, or the Death of the Thousand Hooks?
"In another few hours it won't matter, one way or another," O'Leary sighed. "Well, I've had a nice run, while it lasted, but it had to end. I parlayed it from a dull job in a foundry to six years of high living in a palace; I guess I should be satisfied with that. Even if I'd known how it would end, I wouldn't want to change it. Except maybe this last part. It seems like a dirty way to go. This is one time the miracle isn't going to happen. But since there's no hope the least I can do is pull myself together and die like a man."
The moon had set; through the inky black, Lafayette could see nothing except the glow of the guard fire a hundred yards away, and a single candle in a wagon window.
Something passed between Lafayette and the light. Stealthy footsteps sounded from the darkness, coming toward him.
"Hey," he protested, discovering a sudden obstruction in his throat. "It's not time yet."
"Hssst!" Someone was at the bars—a small, silvery-haired figure.
"Lom!"
"Quite right, my boy. Sorry I took so long." There was a rasp of steel against hard leather; a knifeblade threw back a glint from the distant fire. Lashings parted; bars were pulled aside. Lafayette crawled through, ignoring the pain in his scraped knees.
"Let's be off," Lom whispered. "You and I have things to discuss, my lad."
Chapter Eight
1
The stars were fading in the first gray paling of the dawn. Lafayette huddled, shivering, beside the tiny fire Lom had built under a sheltering rock ledge.
"Sorry there's no coffee this time," the old gentleman said. "You look as though you need it, indeed."
"New Orleans style?" O'Leary queried.
"Umm. Rather good, wasn't it? Never fear, we'll soon be back at my digs, and—"
"They don't have New Orleans coffee in Artesia, Lom—or German ham, either."
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand . . ." Lom looked genuinely puzzled.
"New Orleans is in Locus Alpha Nine-three. So is Bavaria—and Denmark."
Lom shook his head. "Dear lad, I merely read what it said on the labels. I don't even know what an old Orleans is, to say nothing of a New one."
"Where did you get the stuff, Lom? There's no handy supermarket around the corner from that peak of yours."
There was a pause.
"Oh, dear," Lom said.
"Well?"
"I . . . I should have known it was wrong. But after all—there seemed to be no owner. There it was, piled in the cave—and—and I—well, I appropriated it. My only defense is . . . I was hungry."
"You found it?"
"Please believe me. It would be dreadful if you got the wrong impression."
"Yes—wouldn't it . . ."
"Are you hinting at something?"
"Not hinting, Lom. I want to know where you fit into all this."
"You're being frightfully obscure, my boy—"
"I'm not your boy—in spite of your rescuing me. Come clean, Lom: what do you want from me?"
"I? Why, nothing at all. I felt responsible for you, in a way, and