Strangers

and, from a pay phone, make a couple of anonymous calls to other witnesses, give them Twist's unlisted number, tell them he had answers to their various mental problems. That would've set the ball rolling pretty well. But before it got that far, someone else had sent notes and Polaroids to Corvaisis, more Polaroids to the Blocks, and a new crisis was already underway. Like Falkirk, I know whoever sent those pictures has to be here in Thunder Hill. You going to fess up, or am I the only one in a confessional mood?"
        Miles hesitated. His glance fell upon the vague grayness of the report on his desk: Falkirk's psychological profile. He shuddered and said, "Yeah, Bob, I sent the pictures. Great minds think alike, huh?"
        From his own pocket of darkness, Alvarado said, "I told you why I picked Twist. And I can figure why you'd want to stir up the Blocks, since they're local and sort of at the center of everything. But why'd you pick Corvaisis instead of one of the others?"
        "He's a writer, which means a vivid imagination. Anonymous notes and odd pictures in the mail would probably grab his interest a little faster and tighter than anyone else's. And his first novel has had tremendous prepublication publicity, so if he dug up some of the truth, reporters might be more likely to listen to him than to the others."
        "We're a clever pair."
        "Too clever for our own good," Miles said. "Looks like sabotaging the cover-up was too slow. We should've just violated our secrecy oaths and gone public with the news, even if it meant risking Falkirk's anger and government prosecution."
        They were silent a moment, and then Alvarado said, "Why do you think I've come here and opened up to you like this, Miles?"
        "You need an ally against the colonel. Because you don't think he meant a word of what he told you on the phone. You don't think he's suddenly gotten reasonable. You don't think he's bringing the witnesses back here to let us study them."
        "He's going to kill them, I think," Alvarado said. "And us, too. All of us."
        "Because he thinks we've all been taken over. The damn fool."
        The public address system crackled, whistled. A speaker was set in the wall of Miles's office, as in every room within the Depository. The announcement followed the whistle: All personnel, military and civilian, were to report first to the armory to be issued handguns, then to their quarters to await further instructions.
        Getting up from his chair, Alvarado said, "When they're all in their quarters, I'll tell them it was Falkirk's idea to put them there but my idea to arm them. I'll warn them that, for reasons that'll be clear to some and a mystery to others, we're all in danger from Falkirk and his DEROS. Later, if the colonel sends some of his men to round up the staff and shoot them all, my people will be able to shoot back. I hope we can stop him before it goes that far."
        "Do I get a handgun, too?"
        Alvarado moved to the door but did not open it. Standing in the dark, he said, "You especially. Wear a lab coat with the gun under it, so Falkirk won't see you're armed. I intend to wear my uniform coat unbuttoned, with a small pistol tucked into the back of my waistband, so he won't ' realize I'm armed, either. If it seems he's about to order our destruction, I'll pull the gun and kill him. But I'll alert you first, with a code word, so you can turn on Horner and kill him, too. It's no good unless we get both, because if Horner has a chance, he'll kill me when I open fire on Falkirk. And it's imperative I survive, not just because I'm inordinately fond of my own hide, which I am, but because I'm a general, and I ought to be able to make Falkirk's men obey me once their CO's dead. Can you do that? Can you kill a man, Miles?"
        "Yes. I'll be able to pull the trigger if it means stopping Horner. I consider you a good friend, too, Bob. Not just because of the poker and chess, either. There's also the fact that you've actually read all of T. S. Eliot."
        " 'I think we are in rats' alley, Where the dead men lost their bones,' " Bob Alvarado quoted. Laughing softly, he pulled the door open and stood revealed in the argentine glow of the cavern lights. "How ironic. Ages ago, my daddy used to worry that my interest in poetry was a sign I'd grow up to be a skirt-wearing sissy. Instead, I became a one-star general, and in the hour of my greatest need,