Behemoth, Queer ManIt was somewhat later in the night—a bit over an hour—and two voices were conversing tensely in the darkness. One was Behemoth.
“…it might save a great deal of trouble,” Behemoth was saying.
“No,” said the other speaker. “You’re wasting your time.”
“You won’t tell me what is behind this thing?”
“I won’t tell you anything.”
Behemoth seemed patient enough. “Who was the green man—Vesterate or whatever his name was?”
Silence replied.
“What did that stuff about the moon mean?”
More silence.
“Where is the green man?” Behemoth asked.
“I told you, you’re wasting your time!” insisted the other voice.
“How about telling me what that little blue glass capsule means?”
A shaky sigh was the only response to this query.
“That’s gratitude!” Behemoth complained. “Not only do
