The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch

Read Online The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch by Philip K. Dick - Free Book Online Page A

Book: The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch by Philip K. Dick Read Free Book Online
Authors: Philip K. Dick
Tags: Fiction
Ads: Link
briefly. “Isn’t that cute?”
    Leo said, “What about—you know. The additive.”
    “No information on that. Assuming there is one, it would be beyond the legal scope of merchandising operations, presumably. Is a min layout any use minus the—‘additive’?”
    “No.”
    “Then that would seem to answer that.”
    Leo said, “I called you to find out if you can get me in to see Palmer Eldritch. I’ve located him here at Base III on Ganymede.”
    “You recall my report on Eldritch’s importation of a lichen similar to that used in the manufacture of Can-D. Has it occurred to you that this new Boston outfit may have been set up by Eldritch? Although it would seem rather soon for that; however, he could have radioed ahead years ago to his daughter.”
    “I’ve got to see him,” Leo said.
    “It’s James Riddle Hospital, I assume. We thought he might be there. By the way; you ever heard of a man named Richard Hnatt?”
    “Never.”
    “A rep from this new Boston outfit met with him and transacted some kind of business deal. This rep, Icholtz—”
    “What a mess,” Leo said. “And I can’t even get to Eldritch; Santina is hanging around at the door, along with that dike daughter of Palmer’s.” No one would get past the two of them, he decided.
    He gave Felix Blau the address of a hotel at Base III, the one at which he had left his baggage, and then rang off.
    I bet he’s right, he said to himself. Palmer Eldritch is this competitor. Just my luck: I have to be in the particular line that Eldritch, on his way back from Prox, decides to enter. Why couldn’t I be making rocket guidance systems and be only competing with G.E. and General Dynamics?
    Now he really wondered about the lichen which Eldritch had brought with him. An improvement on Can-D, perhaps. Cheaper to produce, capable of creating translation of longer duration and intensity. Jeez!
    Mulling, here and now a bizarre recollection came to him. An organization, emanating from the United Arab Republic; trained assassins for hire. Fat chance they would have against Palmer Eldritch…a man like that, once he had made his mind up—
    And yet Rondinella Fugate’s precognition remained; in the future he would be arraigned for the murder of Palmer Eldritch.
    Evidently he would find a way despite the obstacles.
    He had with him a weapon so small, so intangible, that even the most thorough search couldn’t disclose it. Some time ago a surgeon at Washington, D.C. had sewn it into his tongue: a self-guiding, high-velocity poison dart, modeled on Soviet Russian lines…but vastly improved, in that once it had reached its victim it obliterated itself, leaving no remains. The poison, too, was original; it did not curtail heart or respiratory action; in fact it was not a poison but a filterable virus which multiplied in the victim’s blood stream, causing death within forty-eight hours. It was carcinomatous, an importation from one of Uranus’s moons, and still generally unknown; it had cost him a great deal. All he needed to do was stand within arm’s length of his intended victim and manually squeeze the base of his tongue, protruding the same simultaneously in the victim’s direction. So if he could see Eldritch—
    And I had better arrange it, he realized, before this new Boston corporation is in production. Before it can function without Eldritch. Like any weed it had to be caught early or not at all.
    When he reached his hotel room he placed a call to P. P. Layouts to see if any vital-type messages or events were awaiting his attention.
    “Yes,” Miss Gleason said, as soon as she recognized him. “There’s an urgent call from a Miss Impatience White—if that’s her name, if I did get it right. Here’s the number. It’s on Mars.” She held the slip to the vidscreen.
    At first Leo could not place any woman named White. And then he identified her—and felt fright. Why had
she
called?
    “Thanks,” he mumbled, and at once rang off. God, if the

Similar Books

Judgment Day

James F. David

Double Mountain Crossing

Chris Scott Wilson

Sedition

Alicia Cameron

The Bet

Rachel van Dyken

Witch Dance

Peggy Webb