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everything else about him.
    “What do you want with Mr. Dav— with this Philip Lynx?”
    The man responded quietly, as if what he was saying was the most natural thing in the world: “We have to kill him.”
    Absence of visible weapons or no, a chill trickled up the doctor’s spine. “Kill him?” she echoed dumbly. “But—why? He seems like a perfectly nice, ordinary young man.” No, not ordinary, she told herself. Which prompted the sudden thought: Could this somehow have anything to do with the patient’s unusual brain scan?
    The woman replied with perfect calm, “If we don’t kill him, it is remotely possible he may find a way to kill Death. The Death that is coming for us all.”
    “The great Cleansing that will remake the universe—may it hasten on its way.” Though softly spoken, there was no mistaking the messianic undertone in the man’s voice.
    Not Qwarm, members of the professional assassin’s guild, an increasingly alarmed Marinsky told herself. These two didn’t dress like Qwarm, they didn’t act like Qwarm, and they didn’t look like Qwarm. They especially did not talk like Qwarm, who worked for money. No, the preternaturally polite but still unsettling intruders she found herself confronting were most likely a pair of religious nuts—though representative of what sect or cult she did not know. What was important, she told herself, was not to alarm or upset them. If she could do that and still satisfy them without compromising her personal or professional ethics, they might leave quietly, just as the man had insisted they would. Then she could notify the authorities and have them dealt with appropriately.
    “Well, I can’t help you with this Lynx person.”
    “You were identified as the physician in charge,” the woman responded. It was not a question.
    “Yes, and I did see and treat the individual to whom you refer.” Marinsky disliked having to admit to it, but given the emotional volatility that was common to self-confessed fanatics, she knew that the important thing was to get them out of her house without upsetting them. She smiled in what she hoped was an ingratiating manner. “There’s no mistaking the flying creature that accompanies him.”
    The man looked pleased. “What is his condition, and what healing chamber does he occupy now?”
    “The last time I saw him,” she replied truthfully, “he seemed to be doing fine. As to the latter, he doesn’t occupy any room. He skipped out on us earlier today. Left the hospital without authorization.” She spread her hands. “I don’t know where he is, or even if he’s still in Reides. The constabulary is searching for him even as we speak.”
    “Why would they do that?” Both of them were looking at her with sudden, fresh interest. Had she let something important slip? Reviewing her response, it seemed innocuous enough.
    “He left without following proper hospital procedure. There are issues involved. Payment for emergency services rendered, for one thing.”
    That seemed to satisfy them. “And you have no idea where he might have gone?”
    Marinsky’s confidence returned. “If I did, the police wouldn’t be looking for him. He’d be back in the hospital already.” Could she put them more at ease by showing an interest in their bizarre theology, whatever it might be? “What’s this about killing death?” Though she had changed her mind about making a break for her transport, she still continued to unobtrusively work her way toward the front door.
    The man lifted his eyes ceilingward. “It comes for all of us. For everything. All sin, all inequality, is to be washed away. In its wake, the cosmos will be born anew.” He lowered his gaze to meet hers. “What do you know about theoretical high-energy physics and extragalactic astronomics?”
    The shift in subject matter startled her. “Not—nothing much, really. They don’t exactly impact on my chosen field. What does that have to do with killing death and with