“So,” Luke ran his hand through his hair for the fifty-first time. “We can’t get anyone else?”
“Lucky to get the people we have,” Konig said, picked up his briefcase and left Luke’s office. Not a word of farewell. Ben Konig assumed that they knew each other well enough. That he could take liberties. “Don’t know how we even have a historian, to be honest.” Konig threw this into the room from the doorway, as a parting volley.
haveWe, Luke mouthed after him, his mental powers so exhausted that he couldn’t even think the word across the desk — Konig’s French Government support had nearly cost them the expedition. Ben Konig didn’t deserve to be ‘we’ — he was the evil other.
We,Luke blamed the evil other — in its amorphous mass — for the formidable clauses that had scared half the expedition
