Edmund Cooper - Kronk

The animals were whining miserably in the large van. When he went to inspect them, Peter discovered that one of the panthers had what looked incredibly like tearstains on its face.

Moved with pity, he tried to comfort it; but the beast cringed away, and confidence was only partly restored when Ilyich began to dole out the rations of meat.

The lamb they had picked up at Hampstead had become oddly aggressive and was terrifying a poor Bengal tiger. The rabbit disdained its lettuce, and the squirrel would not look at its nuts. Still, minor problems were to be expected. The animals would doubtless settle down when they got to the castle.

After Peter and Ilyich had seen to their charges, they closed the sliding doors in the great van and returned to the control cab to take their own breakfast.

They ate in silence for a while, then Peter said abruptly: “What is the deal, brother?”

Ilyich regarded him suspiciously. “Did we not agree on the simultaneous approach, brother?”

“Yes, Ilyich. But we do not know the precise value of the animals. We only know that they are the result of MicroWar’s Project Tranquillity… Unless you are hiding something.”

“I am hiding nothing,” said Ilyich hotly. “But any fool would realize that we have a highly marketable commodity. If that kind of thing can be done to animals, it can also be done to humans. It is for the scientists to discover the mechanism.”

“Russian or American?”

“As we agreed — the simultaneous approach. You will tell Cominunder that Socinunder has Tranquillity. I will tell Socinunder that Cominunder has Tranquillity. And each of us will say that the other agent can be bought. Then we shall see.”

“Then we shall see,” echoed Peter darkly. “As before, the Swiss account?”

“Certainly, whoever collects will use the Swiss account for a half share.”

Peter was silent for a moment or two. Then he said softly: “I think I am no longer happy about the Swiss account, brother.”

Ilyich whitened. He went red, he felt sick, he felt cold. It was out in the open now. He felt surreptitiously for his ice-needle gun. Peter had obviously rigged something.

Peter saw Ilyich fumbling, and smiled cynically. He already had a small freezair pencil concealed in his hand. He squirted at Ilyich. Ilyich froze. Peter removed the ice-needle gun from his brother’s clenched hand.

“You see, I was right not to trust you, brother. You obviously had something rigged.”

If he had been able to speak, Ilyich would have voiced precisely the same sentiments.

Gabriel was the first to return to consciousness. Through the uncurtained windows he saw the sun low in the sky. It was late afternoon. Memories came flooding back into his mind. He looked at Camilla, lying by his side, a pale crumpled doll. He tried to rouse her gently, but failed. In the end he had to shake her.

“Wake up. Wake up, darling! For crysake, wake up!”

She opened her eyes and rolled them vaguely, not focussing. Then she went back to sleep.

He shouted at her and shook her, and eventually it paid off.

“Go away,” she murmured. “I want to die in my sleep.”

“You can’t. There isn’t enough time. If we don’t want trouble in large helpings, I think we

“I ache,” she protested. “My legs ache, my breasts ache, my back aches… I got raped have to get out of here fast.”

somewhat. Remember?”

“In case you didn’t notice, I started a small rapefest myself. But there isn’t time to complain.

We have to be elsewhere.”

“Why?”

“Because whoever snatched the animals may suddenly get interested in us.”

She sat up and thought about it. “I can’t go anywhere until I’ve had a bath,” she decided. “I am an old woman of ninety-seven, I have been trampled upon by elephants, and there are certain private injuries about which I do not care to speak.”

“Then we’ll both take baths,” he exploded. “And if the goddam Security wallahs come we’ll ask them to wait nicely outside the goddam door.”

Camilla burst out laughing. “Be sensible, love. We don’t know who took the animals. Or why. If it was a Security jape, I’m sure we would have already been trolleyed… A bath I must have. A bath we must have. And while we are having it let’s try to think.”

Gabriel accepted defeat. But in order to speed matters up a little he ran to the bathroom and turned on the taps. Then he and Camilla struggled out of their crumpled clothes.

He looked at her, noting the bruises and the scratches. He put his arms round her and kissed her gently. “You were absolutely right about the bath. I’ll comfort you properly later. As a penance, I will take the shallow end.”

The bath was excruciatingly luxurious. Gabriel had added lacings of foam, and he and Camilla sat gazing solemnly at each other across miniature alpine ranges of bubbles.

“How much money have we got?”

“The NaTel scrip, for a start,” said Camilla. “That is thirteen thousand. And there is the five thousand Eustace gave me on signature. I never touched it. So we are really quite rich.”

“Good. Enough to enable us to lift off and become two lost people. You will probably have to dye your hair, and I will probably have to grow a beard.”

Camilla pouted. “I don’t see why. I don’t see that we have done anything really wrong -

unless you count the St. Paul’s fiasco.”

“I do count St. Paul’s. But what is more important is that we are still in possession of stolen bacteria, the property of MicroWar.” He grinned. “And so, probably, after last night’s efforts are a lot of other people.”

Camilla was trying to sculpt a sexy torso in the bath foam. “I don’t see that we can be blamed, really. It’s all Eustace’s fault. He shouldn’t have shot me full of P 939.”

“Eustace is dead. We are alive. Therefore we can be blamed — especially since we didn’t trot along to MicroWar and tell the whole story.”

Camilla was silent for a moment or two. Then she said somewhat irrelevantly: “I’m very much in the prommy phase… I keep wanting it. You would think I’d have had quite enough for a day or two, but I keep wanting it… Have you reached the prommy phase yet, Gabriel?”

He considered carefully. “Yes, I must have. I did quite a job on those NaTel bitches, but I still want some more.”

“Good!”

“If we go on like this,” he said gloomily, “we’ll kill ourselves.”

“Can you think of a better way… Mind you, I also feel terribly hungry. Perhaps I’m beginning phase two.”

Gabriel sighed. “Let’s try to concentrate on immediate problems. Did Eustace ever mention the possibility of an antidote?”

“No. He tried to make it resistant to all known antibodies etcetera. He seemed to think he’d done a good job.”

“Shit! We are probably stuck with it for ever, then.” Suddenly he brightened. “But so, of course, is everyone else.”

Camilla giggled. “Through no fault of our own, we’re off to a good start. Eustace claimed that the incidence of infection was almost one hundred per cent… Surely it can only have a good effect. After all, its purpose is to stop people being nasty and violent to each other.”

“For it to have a good effect,” Gabriel pointed out, “the spread will have to be rapid and universal.”

“Human nature,” said Camilla solemnly, “will take care of that. The point is, what about us?”

“We certainly don’t stay here. We take whatever things you need, then we close the place up to make it look as if you have gone away for a long holiday — which you will have. We must find ourselves an apartment somewhere — probably in London until we have worked out long-term plans. And then, God for Harry, England and St. George, we just have to do our tiny duty.”