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BlinAI
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Testo

Dataset card Data Studio Files
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“If you don’t mean war, why the jets and all the other stuff you’ve got out at Indian Springs?”
“Defensive measures,” he said promptly. “We’re doing similar things at Searles Lake in California, and at Edwards Air Force Base. There’s another group at the atomic reactor on Yakima Ridge in Washington. Your folks will be doing the same thing… if they’re not already.”
Dayna shook her head, very slowly. “When I left the Zone, they were still trying to get the electric lights working again.”
“And I’d be happy to send them two or three technicians, except I happen to know that your Brad Kitchner already has things going nicely. They had a brief outage yesterday, but he solved the problem very quickly. It was a power overload out on Arapahoe.”
“How do you know all that?”
“Oh, I have my ways,” Flagg said genially. “The old woman came back, by the way. Sweet old woman.”
“Mother Abagail?”
“Yes.” His eyes were distant and murky; sad, perhaps. “She’s dead. A pity. I really had hoped to meet her in person.”
“Dead? Mother Abagail is dead?”
The murky look cleared, and he smiled at her. “Does that really surprise you so much?”
“No. But it surprises me that she came back. And it surprises me even more that you know.”
“She came back to die.”
“Did she say anything?”
For just a moment Flagg’s mask of genial composure slipped, showing black and angry bafflement.
“No,” he said. “I thought she might… might speak. But she died in a coma.”
“Are you sure?”
His smile reappeared, as radiant as the summer sun burning off ground-fog.
“Never mind her, Dayna. Let’s talk of more pleasant things, such as your return to the Zone. I’m sure you’d rather be there than here. I have something for you to take back.” He reached into his shirt, removed a chamois bag, and took three service station maps from it. He handed them to Dayna, who looked at them with g...
“You want me to take these?”
“Yes. I know where your people are; I want you to know where mine are. As a gesture of good faith and friendship. And when you get back, I want you to tell them this: that Flagg means them no harm, and Flagg’s people mean them no harm. Tell them not to send any more spies. If they want to send people over here, have th...
She felt dazed, punchy. “Sure. I’ll tell them. But—”
“That’s all.” He lifted his open, empty palms again. She saw something and leaned forward, unsettled.
“What are you looking at?” There was an edge in his voice.
“Nothing.”
But she had seen, and she knew from the narrow expression on his face that he knew she had. There were no lines on Flagg’s palms. They were as smooth and as blank as the skin on an infant’s stomach. No lifeline, no loveline, no rings or bracelets or loops. Just… blank.
They looked at each other for what seemed a very long time.
Then Flagg bounced to his feet and went toward the desk. Dayna also rose. She had actually begun to believe that he might let her go. He sat on the edge of the desk and drew the intercom toward him.
“I’ll tell Lloyd to have the oil and the plugs and points changed on your cycle,” he said. “I’ll also tell him to have it gassed up. No more worries about gas or oil shortages now, hey? Plenty for all. Although there was a day—I remember it, and probably you do too, Dayna, when it seemed as if the whole world might go ...
“Yeah, right here.”
“Will you have Dayna’s bike gassed and tuned up and left in front of the hotel? She’s going to be leaving us.”
“Yes.”
Flagg clicked off. “Well, that’s it, dear.”
“I can… just go?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s been my pleasure.” He lifted his hand to the door… palm side down.
She went to the door. Her hand had barely brushed the knob when he said: “There is one more thing. One… very minor thing.”
Dayna turned to look at him. He was grinning at her, and it was a friendly grin, but for a flashing second she was reminded of a huge black mastiff, its tongue lolling over white spiked teeth that could rip off an arm as if it was a dishrag.
“What’s that?”
“There’s one more of your people over here,” Flagg said. His smile widened. “Who might that be?”
“How in the world would I know?” Dayna asked, and her mind flashed: Tom Cullen!… Could it really have been him?
“Oh, come now, dear. I thought we had it all straightened out.”
“Really,” she said. “Look at it straight ahead and you’ll see I’m being dead honest. The committee sent me… and the Judge… and who knows how many others… and they were very careful. Just so we couldn’t tattle on each other if something… you know, happened.”
“If we decided to pull some fingernails?”
“Okay, yes. I was approached by Sue Stern. I’d guess Larry Underwood… he’s on the committee, too—”
“I know who Mr. Underwood is.”
“Yes, well, I’d guess he asked the Judge. But as for anyone else…” She shook her head. “It could be anyone. Or anyones. For all I know each of the seven committee members was responsible for recruiting one spy.”
“Yes, that could be, but it isn’t. There’s only one, and you know who it is.” His grin widened yet more, and now it began to frighten her. It was not a natural thing. It began to remind her of dead fish, polluted water, the surface of the moon seen through a telescope. It made her bladder feel loose and full of hot liq...
“You know,” Flagg repeated.
“No, I—”
Flagg bent over the intercom again. “Has Lloyd left yet?”
“No, I’m right here.” Expensive intercom, good reproduction.