Occultation Read Online Free PDF Page A

research, to open new doors…”
    Partridge was not thrilled to discuss New Guinea. “Intriguing. I’m glad you’re going great guns. It’s over my head, but I’m glad. Sincerely.” Several crows described broad, looping circles near the unwholesome machines. Near, but not too near.
    “Ah, but that’s not important. I imagine I shall die before any of this work comes to fruition.” Toshi smiled fondly and evasively.  He gave Partridge an avuncular pat on the arm. “You’re here for Nadine’s grand farewell. She will leave the farm after the weekend. Everything is settled. You see now why I called. ”
    Partridge was not convinced. Nadine seemed to resent his presence—she’d always been hot and cold when it came to him. What did Toshi want him to do? “Absolutely,” he said.
    They walked back to the house and sat on the porch in rocking chairs. Gertz brought them a pitcher of iced tea and frosted glasses on trays. Campbell emerged in his trademark double-breasted steel-blue suit and horn-rimmed glasses. For the better part of three decades he had played the mild, urbane foil to Toshi’s megalomaniacal iconoclast. In private, Campbell was easily the dominant of the pair. He leaned against a post and held out his hand until Toshi passed him a smoldering cigarette. “I’m glad you know,” he said, fastening his murky eyes on Partridge. “I didn’t have the nerve to tell you myself.”
    Partridge felt raw, exhausted and bruised. He changed the subject. “So…those guys in the suits. Montague and Phillips. How do you know them? Financiers, I presume?” 
    “Patrons,” Campbell said. “As you can see, we’ve scaled back the operation. It’s difficult to run things off the cuff.” Lolling against the post,  a peculiar hybrid of William Burroughs and Walter Cronkite, he radiated folksy charm that mostly diluted underlying hints of decadence. This charm often won the hearts of flabby dilettante crones looking for a cause to champion. “Fortunately, there are always interested parties with deep pockets.”
    Partridge chuckled to cover his unease. His stomach was getting worse. “Toshi promised to get me up to speed on your latest and greatest contribution to the world of science. Or do I want to know?”
    “You showed him the telescopes? Anything else?” Campbell glanced at Toshi and arched his brow.
    Toshi’s grin was equal portions condescension  and mania. He rubbed his spindly hands together like a spider combing its pedipalps. “Howard…I haven’t, he hasn’t been to the site. He has visited with our pets, however. Mind your shoes if you fancy them, by the way.”
    “Toshi has developed a knack for beetles,” Campbell said. “I don’t know what he sees in them, frankly. Boring, boring. Pardon the pun—I’m stone knackered on Dewar’s. My bloody joints are positively gigantic in this climate. Oh—have you seen reports of the impending Yellow Disaster? China will have the whole of Asia Minor deforested in the next decade. I imagine you haven’t—you don’t film horror movies, right? At least not reality horror.” He laughed as if to say, You realize I’m kidding, don’t you, lad? We’re all friends here . “Mankind is definitely eating himself out of house and home. The beetles and cockroaches are in the direct line of succession.”
    “Scary,” Partridge said. He waited doggedly for the punch line. Although, free association was another grace note of Campbell’s and Toshi’s. The punch line might not even exist. Give them thirty seconds and they would be nattering about engineering E. coli to perform microscopic stupid pet tricks or how much they missed those good old Bangkok whores.
    Toshi lighted another cigarette and waved it carelessly. “The boy probably hasn’t the foggiest notion as to the utility of our naturalistic endeavors. Look, after dinner, we’ll give a demonstration. We’ll hold a séance.”
    “Oh, horseshit, Toshi!” Campbell scowled fearsomely.