The wheelbarrows and the grindstone and the two crosscut saws
were another matter. Nobody was quite sure that the (nobility?
capitalist-class? politicians? prominent citizens?) wouldn't simply
appropriate them for themselves. Paul Meillard was worried about
that; everybody else was willing to let matters take their course.
Before they were off the ground in their vehicles, a violent dispute
had begun, with a bedlam of jabbering and shrieking. By the time
they were landing at the camp, the big laminated leather horn had
begun to bellow.
* * * * *
One of the huts had been fitted as contact-team headquarters, with
all the view and communication screens installed, and one end
partitioned off and soundproofed for Lillian to study recordings in.
It was cocktail time when they returned; conversationally, it was a
continuation from lunch. Karl Dorver was even more convinced than
ever of his telepathic hypothesis, and he had completely converted
Anna de Jong to it.
"Look at that." He pointed at the snooper screen, which gave a view
of the plaza from directly above.
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