“Think your ‘friendlies’ might have killed him?” inquired Sternheimer.
“No, the javelin head that Mark took out of his right lung was almost identical to the one he took out of Braun’s leg—an entirely different pattern from the locally produced weapons. They were very crude, David, of iron, not steel, and wickedly barbed.”
“Well, Braun can no doubt shed more light on this botched business,”—Sternheimer concluded. “As soon as his transfer is concluded, I want him brought down here to the Center. Were I at all superstitious, I’d have to think that there’s a jinx on all our efforts against those damned mutants. Nothing has gone right for us, for our designs, since Moray led his horde of stinking nomads east from the Great Plains.
“Sometimes I wonder if we’ll ever see the end of him.”