Herkimer nodded. "Impersonating one of our men. Sent to smoke us out. Sent to start us running, pell-mell, to save the Cradle."
"This Cradle…"
"But it means," said Eva, "that Trevor knows about it. He doesn't know where it is, but he knows about it. And he'll hunt until he finds it and then…"
Herkimer's gesture stopped her.
"What is wrong?" asked Sutton.
For there was something wrong, something that was terribly wrong. The whole atmosphere of the place was wrong. The friendliness was gone…the trust and friendliness and the oneness of their purpose. Shattered by an android who had run across the patio and talked about a thing that he called a Cradle and died, seconds later, with a knife blade through his throat.
Instinctively Sutton's mind reached out for Herkimer and then he drew it back. It was not an ability, he told himself, that one used upon a friend. It was an ability that one must keep in trust, not to be used curiously or idly, but only where the end result would justify its use.
"What's gone sour?" he asked. "What is the matter with…"
"Sir," said Herkimer, "you are a human being and this is an android matter."
For a moment Sutton stood stiff and straight, his mind absorbing the shock of the words that Herkimer had spoken, the black fury boiling ice-cold inside his body.