Bron thought quickly — or at least as quickly as he could with a power saw trying to take off the back of his head.
"Then you know as much about it as I do," he said. "I came here to see about filing my homesteadin' papers. The front was locked, and I thought maybe I could get in by the back, if anyone was still here. I walked through the back door and somethin' hit me and the next thing I know I was waking up here. Guess I can thank Jasmine here for that. She must have followed me and seen me hit. Must have started squealing, like you heard, and probably chewing on the ankle of whoever hit me. Pigs have very good teeth. Must have frightened him off, whoever it was." He groaned; it was easy to do. "Can you give me something for my head, Doctor?" he asked.
"There is a possibility of concussion," the doctor said.
"I'll take my chances on that, Doc, — better a little concussion than my head splittin' into two halves this way."
By the time the doctor had finished and the crowd dispersed, the pain in his head had subsided to a throbbing ache, and Bron was fingering the bruise on his arm, which he had just become aware of. He waited until the Governor had closed and locked the door before he spoke.
"I didn't tell you the whole stoly," he said.
"I didn't think you had. Now what is this all about?"
"I was struck by a party or parties unknown — that much was all true. If Jasmine had not woken up and found me missing and gotten all neurotically insecure, I would probably be dead at this moment. It was a trap, neatly set up, and I walked right into it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that Lea Davies is involved in this. She called me, arranged to meet me here, and was waiting here when I arrived."
"Are you trying to say. .?"
"I've said it. Now get the girl in here so we can hear her side of it."
When the Governor went to the phone, Bron swung his legs slowly to the floor and wondered what it would feel like to stand up. It was not nice. He held on to the back of the couch while the room spun in slow circles and the floor heaved like a ship at sea. Jasmine leaned against his leg and moaned in sympathy. After a while, when the moving furniture and rotating building had slowed to a stop, he tried walking and stumbled over to the kitchen.
"May I help you, sir?" the kitchen said when he entered. "Perhaps a little midnight snack is in order?"
"Coffee, just black coffee — lots of it."
"Coming at once, sir. But dieticians do say that coffee can be irritating to an empty stomach. Perhaps a lightly toasted sandwich, or a grilled cutlet—"
"Quiet!" His head was beginning to throb again. "I do not like ultramodern robot kitchens with a lot of smart backtalk. I like old-fashioned kitchens that flash a light that says ready — and that is all they can say."
"Your coffee, sir," the kitchen said, in what was surely a hurt tone. A door snapped open above the counter and a steaming jug emerged. Bron looked around. "And what about a cup — or should I drink it out of the palm of my hand?"
"A cup, of course, sir. You did not specify that you wanted a cup." There was a muffled clank inside the machine, and a chipped cup rattled down a chute and landed on its side on the table.
Just what I needed, Bron thought, a temperamental robot kitchen. Jasmine came in, her little hooves click-clacking on the tiled floor. I had better get on the right side of this kitchen or I'll be in trouble with the Governor when he finds out.
"Now that you mention it, kitchen," he said aloud in the sweetest tones he could summon, "I have heard a great deal about your wonderful cooking. I wonder if you could make me eggs Benedict. .?"
"The work of a second, sir," the kitchen said happily, and only moments later the steaming dish arrived, with folded napkin and knife and fork.
"Wonderful," Bron said, putting the dish down for Jasmine. "The best I ever tasted." Loud smacking and chomping filled the room.
"Indeed you are a fast eater, sir," the kitchen hummed. "Enjoy, enjoy."
Bron took the coffee back to the other room and carefully sat down again on the couch. The Governor looked up from the phone, frowning worriedly.
"She's not at home," he said, "or with friends or anywhere that I can determine. A patrol has searched the area, and I sent a net call to all the local phones. No one has seen her — and there is no trace of her anywhere. That can't be possible. I'll try the mine stations."
It took over an hour for Governor Haydin to prove to his own satisfaction that Lea had vanished. The settled portion of Trowbri covered a limited area, and everyone could be reached by phone. No one had seen her or knew where she was. She was gone. Bron had faced this fact long before the Governor would admit it — and he knew what had to be done. He slumped back on the couch, half-dozing, with his shoes off and his feet propped on Jasmine's warm flank. The little pig was out like a light, sleeping the sleep of the just.
"She's gone," Haydin said, switching off the last call. "How can it be? She couldn't have had anything to do with your being attacked."
"She could have — if she were forced into it."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'm just guessing, but it makes sense. Suppose her brother were not dead…"
"What are you saying?"
"Let me finish. Suppose her brother were alive, but in deadly danger. And she had the chance to save him if she did as ordered — which was to get me here. Give the girl credit. I don't think she knew they meant to kill me. She must have put up a fight — that's why she was taken away too."
"What do you know, Wurber?" Haydin shouted. "Tell me everything. I'm Governor here and I have a right to know."
"And know you shall — when I have anything more than hunches and guesses to give you. This attack, and the kidnapping, means that someone is unhappy about my presence, which also means that I am getting close. I'm going to speed things up and see if I can catch these ghosts off guard."
"Do you think there is a connection between all this and the Ghost Plateau?"
"I know there is. That's why I want word circulated in the morning that I am moving into my homestead tomorrow. Make sure everyone knows where it is."
"Where?"
"On the Ghost Plateau — where else?"
"That's suicide!"
"Not really. I have some guesses as to what happened up there, and some defenses — I hope. I also have my team, and they've proved themselves twice today. It will be taking a chance, but I'm going to have to take a chance if we ever hope to see Lea alive again."
Haydin clenched his fists on the top of his desk and made up his mind. "I can stop this if I want to — but I won't if you do it my way. Full radio connection, armed guards, the copters standing by…"
"No, sir; thank you very much, but I remember what happened to the last bunch that tried it that way."
"Then — I'll go with you myself. I'm responsible for Lea. You'll take me or you won't go."
Bron smiled. "Now, that's a deal, Guv. I could use a helping hand, and maybe a witness. Things are going to get pretty busy on the plateau tonight. But no guns."
"That's suicide."
"Just remember the first expedition, and do it my way. I'm leaving most of my equipment behind. I imagine you can arrange to have it trucked to a warehouse until we get back. I think you'll find I have a good reason for what I'm doing."
Bron managed to squeeze in over ten hours' sleep, because he felt he was going to need it. By noon the truck had come and gone and they were on the way. Governor Haydin was dressed for the occasion, in hunting boots and rough clothes, and he moved right out with them. Not that the pace was so fast; they went at the speed of the slowest piglet, and there was much noisy comment from all sides and grabbing of quick snacks from the roadside. They took the course this time that the original expedition had taken — a winding track that led up to the plateau in easy stages, for the most part running beside a fast river of muddy water. Bron pointed to it.