“You’re crazy,” Cap said. The words escaped before he could hold them back, but Rainbird did not seem offended.
“Oh yes,” he agreed, and drained his own brandy. He went on smiling…
20
Big Brother. Big Brother was the problem.
Andy moved from the living room of his apartment to the kitchen, forcing himself to walk slowly, to hold a slight smile on his face-the walk and expression of a man who is pleasantly stoned out of his gourd.
So far he had succeeded only in keeping himself here, near Charlie, and finding out that the nearest road was Highway 301 and that the countryside was fairly rural. All of that had been a week ago. It had been a month since the blackout, and he still knew nothing more about the layout of this installation than he had been able to observe when he and Pynchot went for their walks.
He didn’t want to push anyone down here in his quarters, because Big Brother was always watching and listening. And he didn’t want to push Pynchot anymore, because Pynchot was cracking up-Andy was sure of it. Since their little walk by the duckpond, Pynchot had lost weight. There were dark circles under his eyes, as if he were sleeping poorly.
He sometimes would begin speaking and then trail off, as if he had lost his train of thought… or as if it had been interrupted.
All of which made Andy’s own position that much more precarious.
How long before Pynchot’s colleagues noticed what was happening to him? They might think it nothing but nervous strain, but suppose they connected it with him? That would be the end of whatever slim chance Andy had of getting out of here with Charlie. And his feeling that Charlie was in big trouble had got stronger and stronger.
What in the name of Jesus Christ was he going to do about Big Brother?
He got a Welch’s Grape from the fridge, went back to the living room, and sat down in front of the TV without seeing it, his mind working restlessly, looking for some way out. But when that way out came, it was (like the power blackout) a complete surprise. In a way, it was Herman Pynchot who opened the door for him: he did it by killing himself.
21
Two men came and got him. He recognized one of them from Manders’s farm.
“Come on, big boy,” this one said. “Little walk.”
Andy smiled foolishly, but inside, the terror had begun. Something had happened. Something bad had happened; they didn’t send guys like this if it was something good. Perhaps he had been found out. In fact, that was the most likely thing. “Where t0?”
“Just come on.”
He was taken to the elevator, but when they got off in the ballroom, they went farther into the house instead of outside. They passed the secretarial pool, entered a. smaller room where a secretary ran off correspondence on an IBM typewriter.
“Go right in,” she said.
They passed her on the right and went through a door into a small study with a bay window that gave a view of the duckpond through a screen of low alders. Behind an old-fashioned roll-top desk sat an elderly man with a sharp, intelligent face; his cheeks were ruddy, but from sun and wind rather than liquor, Andy thought.
He looked up at Andy, then nodded at the two men who had brought him in. “Thank you. You can wait outside.”
They left.
The man behind the desk looked keenly at Andy, who looked back blandly, still smiling a bit. He hoped to God he wasn’t overdoing it. “Hello, who are you?” he asked.
“My name is Captain Hollister, Andy. You can call me Cap. They tell me I am in charge of this here rodeo.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Andy said. He let his smile widen a little. Inside, the tension screwed itself up another notch.
“I’ve some sad news for you, Andy.”
(oh God no it’s Charlie something’s happened to Charlie)
Cap was watching him steadily with those small, shrewd eyes, eyes caught so deeply in their pleasant nets of small wrinkles that you almost didn’t notice how cold and studious they were.
“Oh?”
“Yes,” Cap said, and fell silent for a moment. And the silence spun out agonizingly.
Cap had fallen into a study of his hands, which were neatly folded on the blotter in front of him. It was all Andy could do to keep from leaping across the desk and throttling him. Then Cap looked up.
“Dr. Pynchot is dead, Andy. He killed himself last night.”
Andy’s jaw dropped in unfeigned surprise. Alternating waves of relief and horror raced through him. And over it all, like a boiling sky over a confused sea, was the realization that this changed everything… but how? How?
Cap was watching him. He suspects. He suspects something. But are his suspicions serious or only a part of his job?
A hundred questions. He needed time to think and he had no time. He would have to do his thinking on his feet. “That surprises you?” Cap asked.
“He was my friend,” Andy said simply, and had to close his mouth to keep from saying more. This man would listen to him patiently; he would pause long after Andy’s every remark (as he was pausing now) to see if Andy would plunge on, the mouth outracing the mind. Standard interrogation technique. And there were man-pits in these woods; Andy felt it strongly. It had been an echo, of course. An echo that had turned into a ricochet. He had pushed Pynchot and started a ricochet and it had torn the man apart. And for all of that, Andy could not find it in his heart to be sorry. There was horror… and there was a caveman who capered and rejoiced.
“Are you sure it was… I mean, sometimes an accident can look like-”
“I’m afraid it was no accident.”
“He left a note?”
(naming me?)
“He dressed up in his wife’s underwear, went out into the kitchen, started up the garbage disposal, and stuck his arm into it.”
“Oh… my… God.” Andy sat down heavily. If there hadn’t been a chair handy he would have sat on the floor. All the strength” had left his legs. He stared at Cap Hollister with sick horror.
“You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you, Andy?” Cap asked. “You didn’t maybe push him into it?”
“No,” Andy said. “Even if I could still do it, why would I do a thing like that?”
“Maybe because he wanted to send you to the Hawaiians,” Cap said. “Maybe you didn’t want to go to Maui, because your daughter’s here. Maybe you’ve been fooling us all along, Andy.”
And although this Cap Hollister was crawling around on top of the truth, Andy felt a small loosening in his chest. If Cap really thought he had pushed Pynchot into doing that, this interview wouldn’t be going on between just the two of them. No, it was just doing things by the book; that was all. They probably had all they needed to justify suicide in Pynchot’s own file without looking for arcane methods of murder. Didn’t they say that psychiatrists had the highest suicide rate of any profession?
“No, that’s not true at all,” Andy said. He sounded afraid, confused, close to blubbering. “I wanted to go to Hawaii. I told him that. I think that’s why he wanted to make more tests, because I wanted to go. I don’t think he liked me in some ways. But I sure didn’t have anything to do with… with what happened to him.”
Cap looked at him thoughtfully. Their eyes met for a moment and then Andy dropped his gaze.
“Well, I believe you, Andy,” Cap said. “Herm Pynchot had been under a lot of pressure lately. It’s a part of this life we live, I suppose. Regrettable. Add this secret transvestism on top of that, and, well, it’s going to be hard on his wife. Very hard. But we take care of our own, Andy.” Andy could feel the man’s eyes boring into him. “Yes, we always take care of our own. That’s the most important thing.”