"Oh, yes. I would like that, too. How shall we do it?"
I rubbed the back of my neck thoughtfully, staring at him. I had had
a sort of half-baked, partly worked out plan for rescuing Benedetto.
Wake him up with the needle; find a medical orderly's whites somewhere;
dress him; and walk him out.
It wasn't the best of all possible plans, but I had rank enough,
particularly with Defoe off in Rome, to take a few liberties or stop
questions if it became necessary. And besides, I hadn't really thought
I'd have to do it. I had fully expected--as recently as half an hour
ago!--that I would find Benedetto raddled with gamma rays, a certainty
for death if revived before the half-life period of the radioelements
in his body had brought the level down to safety.
* * * * *
That plan might work for Benedetto. But Zorchi, to mention only one
possible obstacle, couldn't walk. And Benedetto, once I took off his
beard with the razor Rena had insisted I bring for that purpose, would
not be likely to be recognized by anyone.
Zorchi, on the other hand, was very nearly unforgettable.