'I don't think it matters,' Stark said easily. 'Tell em the William Burroughs story, Thad. I remember it well. I was inside, of course . . . but I was listening.'
Liz and Alan looked at Thad questioningly.
'Do you know what he's talking about?' Liz asked.
'Of course I do,' Thad said. 'Ike and Mike, they think alike.'.Stark threw back his head and laughed. The twins stopped whimpering and laughed along with
him. 'That's good, old hoss! That is gooood!'
'I was - or perhaps I should say we were - on a panel with Burroughs in 1981. At the New School, in New York. During the Q-and-A, some kid asked Burroughs if he believed in life after death. Burroughs said he did - he thought we were all living it.'
'And that man's smart,' Stark said, smiling. 'Couldn't shoot a pistol worth shit, but smart. Now
- you see? You see how little it matters?'
But it does, Alan thought, studying Thad carefully. It matters a lot. Thad's face says so . . . and the sparrows you don't know about say so, too.
Thad's knowledge was more dangerous than even he knew, Alan suspected. But it might be all they had. He decided he had been right to keep the end of Pritchard's story to himself . . . but he still felt like a man standing on the edge of a cliff and trying to juggle too many flaming torches.
'Enough chit-chat, Thad,' Stark said.
He nodded. 'Yes. Quite enough.' He looked at Liz and Alan. 'I don't want either of you trying anything . . . well . . . out of line. I'm going to do what he wants.'
'Thad! No! You can't do that!'
'Shhh.' He put a finger across her lips. 'I can, and I will. No tricks, no special effects. Words on paper made him, and words on paper are the only things that will get rid of him.' He cocked his head at Stark. 'Do you think he knows this will work? He doesn't. He's just hoping.'
'That's right,' Stark said. 'Hope springs eternal in the human tits.' He laughed. It was a crazy, lunatic sound, and Alan understood that Stark was also juggling flaming torches on the edge of a cliff.
Sudden movement twitched in the corner of his eye. Alan turned his head slightly and saw a sparrow land on the deck railing outside the sweep of glass that formed the living room's western wall. It was joined by a second and a third. Alan looked back at Thad and saw the writer's eyes move slightly. Had he also seen? Alan thought he had. He had been right, then. Thad knew . . . but he didn't want Stark to know.
'The two of us are just going to do a little writing and then say goodbye,' Thad said. His eyes shifted to Stark's ruined face. 'That is what we're going to do, isn't it, George?'
'You got it, guy.'
'So you tell me,' Thad said to Liz. 'Are you holding back? Got something in your head? Some plan?'
She stood looking desperately into her husband's eyes, unaware that between them, William and Wendy were holding hands and looking at each other delightedly, like long-lost relatives at a surprise reunion.
You don't mean it, do you, Thad? her eyes asked him. It's a trick, isn't it? A trick to lull him, put his suspicions to sleep?
No, Thad's gray gaze answered. Right down the line. This is what I want.
And wasn't there something else, as well? Something so deep and hidden that perhaps she was the only one who could see it?
I'm going to take care of him, babe. I know how. I can.
Oh Thad, I hope you're right.
'There's a knife under the couch,' she said slowly, looking into his face. 'I got it out of the kitchen while Alan and . . . and him . . . were in the front hall, using the telephone.'
'Liz, Christ!' Alan nearly screamed, making the babies jump. He was not, in fact, as upset as he hoped he sounded. He had come to understand that if this business was to end in some way that.did not mean total horror for all of them, Thad would have to be the one to bring it about. He had made Stark; he would have to unmake him.
She looked around at Stark and saw that hateful grin surfacing on the remains of his face.
'I know what I'm doing,' Thad said. 'Trust me, Alan. Liz, get the knife and throw it off the deck.'
I have a part to play here, Alan thought. It's a bit part, but remember what the guy used to say in our college drama class - there are no small parts, only small actors. 'You think he's going to just let us go?' Alan asked incredulously. 'That he's going to trot off over the hill with his tail bobbing behind him like Mary's little lamb? Man, you're crazy.'
'Sure, I'm crazy,' Thad said, and laughed. It was eerily like the sound Stark had made - the laughter of a man who was dancing on the edge of oblivion. 'He is, and he came from me, didn't he? Like some cheap demon from the brow of a third-rate Zeus. But I know how it has to be.' He turned and looked at Alan fully and gravely for this first time. 'I know how it has to be,' he repeated slowly and with great emphasis. 'Go ahead, Liz.'
Alan made a rude, disgusted sound and turned his back, as if to disassociate himself from all of them.