The Lords Of The Crimson River rb-35

by Джеффри Лорд

  The Lords Of The Crimson River

  ( Richard Blade - 35 )

  Джеффри Лорд

  Роланд Джеймс Грин

  The Lords of the Crimson River

  Blade 35

  By Jeffrey Lord

  Chapter 1

  «Bring it straight back when it's run,» Lord Leighton told the programmer.

  «There's a backlog,» said the young man with the long but well-kept hair. «If you'd like me to give this priority-«

  Leighton's desire to have the data back right away fought with his equally strong desire not to call unnecessary attention to what he was doing. The first desire won. «Give it priority, then. How long will it be?»

  The man looked at his watch. «With luck, I should have it back by four o'clock. Without luck-«He shrugged.

  Leighton smiled thinly. He knew everything that could happen to a computer much better than this young man ever would if he lived to be a hundred. Leighton had been working on computers before the programmer was born.

  The programmer picked up the briefcase with the «secret» label on it and hurried out. Leighton sighed with relief, then leaned back in his custom recliner as far as his hunchback would let him. After a moment he closed his eyes and listened to the spattering of rain on the office window. He hoped a few minutes relaxing would get rid of his headache, but doubted it. Nothing would do that except learning if his latest scheme for Project Dimension X was all he hoped it would be. The next best thing would be to have the KALI capsule which sent Richard Blade into Dimension X back in operation. If he didn't get either of these, he'd be happy enough to get the Project's master computer back on line. He wasn't wildly optimistic about any of them.

  The trouble started with Richard Blade's return from the Dimension which held the city of Kaldak. He returned seated in a complicated piece of electrical equipment: one of the control chairs used for the fighting robots of the Dimension. Somehow, current had surged into the KALI capsule, but circuit breakers failed to operate, and Blade was brought back to Home Dimension in the chair instead. There was no damage to the computer, but with the KALI capsule heavily damaged and Blade's jaw broken when the chair fell over, the Project was going nowhere fast. While both the capsule and Blade's jaw were being fixed, it seemed like a good time to downline the master computer for a major inspection and overhaul.

  Things could have been worse, of course. A year ago Leighton would have had to leave all the problems he couldn't tackle on his desk calculator to pile up until the main machine was back on line. That was when the whole top-secret Project Dimension X was concentrated in the complex two hundred feet below the Tower of London. Now things were different, although Leighton wasn't sure they were better.

  As the Project grew, the complex got more crowded. The obvious solution was to move some of the Project's work aboveground.

  Leighton himself thought this was a good idea. So did J, the quiet gray-haired spymaster in charge of the Project's security. So did Richard Blade, in many ways the most important man of the three. Years after one of Leighton's computer experiments led to the discovery of travel into alternate Dimensions, Richard Blade was still the only living man who could make these dangerous journeys and return alive and healthy.

  When Leighton, J, and Richard Blade all agreed on doing something for Project Dimension X, it was as good as done. It took only a few days to find a building for sale in a suburb of London, and only a few weeks to move a good part of the Project into it. They were careful to move only those parts of the Project which wouldn't give away much of the Dimension X secret, although security precautions were as rigid as ever.

  Complex Two still needed a great deal of computer capacity. The master computer could not have any terminals outside the underground Complex One without compromising its security. So the new building needed hardware of its own. After a few hundred thousand more pounds were pried loose from the secret funds, Complex Two got its own computer. If Lord Leighton was willing to commute back and forth between the complexes, he could now play with computers twenty-four hours a day.

  For a while Leighton nearly did this. His eighty-odd years, his hunchback, and his polio-twisted legs didn't slow him down very much. They didn't slow down his mind at all. It was as quick and fertile as ever, devouring facts and jumping ahead to bold conclusions the same way it had for nearly sixty years. It worked that way when Leighton sat down to consider the problem of Blade's return from Dimension X.

  Every time Blade went into Dimension X, he was wired into the master computer so that its electronic mind and his human one were linked. Leighton always took great care to make that link as complete and predictable as possible, and the KALI capsule, which encased Blade's body so that almost every inch of his skin was in contact with wire electrodes, had been a great success. But some of Leighton's experiments along those lines had been less than successful. He still shuddered at the memory of the automated KALI computer, which had unleashed the Ngaa monster on the world. Blade had nearly been killed, more than thirty other people had died, and both the Project and the whole world had been put in a deadly danger, from which Blade had to save them at the risk of his life.

  Still, Blade's departure for Dimension X was now pretty much a matter of routine. His return from Dimension X, on the other hand, followed no pattern Leighton could discover. Somehow the computer reached out across space, time, and Dimension to link itself with Blade's mind and twist it back into its normal patterns, so that he once again saw and heard and moved through Home Dimension England. What was more, the computer almost always waited until Blade's work in Dimension X was completed. It seemed as if Blade and the computer remained linked in some way after Blade's departure.

  It was even more maddening that the computer also brought back whatever Blade was holding or even close to at the time. He'd seldom been able to take any equipment into Dimension with him. Several times this nearly cost him his life, and it ruled out any idea of really exploring Dimension X. Coming back, however, Blade had brought everything from jeweled knives to a full-grown live horse!

  This was the kind of mystery Lord Leighton didn't like at all. It weakened his control over the most vital experiment he'd ever performed, an experiment vital to the future of the whole world as well as to his own career and reputation. Blade's discoveries in other Dimensions, as well as the things he brought back with him when he returned home, provided the knowledge and power to make England a great power once again, to make Leighton a great man, and to make the world better off than it had ever been. But the mysteries still attached to traveling in other Dimensions made Leighton look as if he didn't quite know what he was doing, and he would cheerfully have sold his soul to the Devil to avoid that fate.

  Unfortunately the Devil wasn't buying. Lord Leighton had to puzzle things out as best he could, and his best wasn't good enough. There were other problems, too. The Project's budget was generous, but it wasn't infinite. Also, J always made a fuss over experiments and innovations which put Blade in unnecessary danger.

  So Leighton was groping in the dark until Blade returned from Kaldak. Unlike the KALI capsule, the control chair that brought him back was nearly intact, ready for Leighton's examination. He tested it every way he knew of and a few more he invented on the spot. All the tests showed the same thing: the master computer not only generated a powerful electrical field matching Blade's brain waves, but projected it to wherever Blade was in Dimension X. The chair, with all its complicated equipment, had become part of that electrical field and had come back to Home Dimension with Blade seated in it.

  It wasn't news that the comput
er generated such an electrical field. It was news that it could project it so far. Could it possibly project the same field, to send Blade? Did he have to be wired into the computer or at least encased in the KALI capsule? Or did he only have to be within reach of the appropriate electrical field?

  Leighton started working twelve and fourteen hours a day on this question. At last he reached the point where he needed to run all his work through a computer. By then the repairmen had the master computer down for its overhaul, and Leighton was left with the smaller computer in Complex Two.

  That wasn't a problem in itself. The new computer had all the capacity Leighton needed. Unfortunately, in expanding its facilities the Project had also expanded its bureaucracy. There were established procedures for using the new computer, which Leighton himself could only ignore at the price of drawing a good deal of attention. This was the last thing he wanted, at least until after the first few runs. He always preferred to work out at least a preliminary proposal before talking to anyone else. The ultimate solution to that problem would be a personal computer of his own, but that wasn't practical yet.

  An adequate computer would cost at least fifty thousand pounds. While Leighton held enough patents to be a fairly wealthy man, he wasn't yet in a position to sink that sort of money into something which would be no more than a convenience.

  Leighton cracked his knuckles, stretched, and looked at the clock on the wall. The run was taking longer than the programmer promised. He picked up a notebook and pencil from the table and began doodling rough sketches of a possible electrical-field generator linked to the master computer. It looked rather like an oversized telephone booth, with Blade standing in the middle.

  A new thought struck Leighton. Standing freely, Blade could wear anything which wouldn't disrupt the electrical field. He wouldn't need to keep his skin bare for the electrodes of the earliest system they'd used in the Project or for the conducting lining of the KALI capsule. He could go into Dimension X with clothes on his body and boots on his feet, carrying weapons, food, water, and survival gear. This would improve both Blade's chances of survival and his ability to explore Dimension X.

  The new method might also reduce the strain on the subject's mind and body. If that happened, perhaps somebody else could finally go into Dimension X and come back alive and sane! That would be an even bigger breakthrough than equipping Blade. Right now the Project depended entirely on Blade, and sooner or later his luck might run out. Even if it didn't, he would someday be too old for such demanding work. If there wasn't somebody ready to take over by then, the whole Project would come to a halt. That, thought Leighton, would be a damnably silly ending to my career!

  The notebook was nearly filled with sketches by the time the programmer returned with the completed runs and a pot of tea. Leighton noticed the man's eyes lingering on the notebook, quietly shut it, and poured himself a cup of tea. The young man looked embarrassed and slipped out in a hurry.

  Leighton sipped the tea and chuckled. He really shouldn't have been so obviously suspicious. All the people in Complex Two had been investigated as thoroughly as those working underground. That programmer could be trusted. He swallowed some more tea and started flipping through the print-outs. His excitement grew with each page.

  Chapter 2

  Lord Leighton wouldn't have been so sure about the programmer's loyalty if he'd known the man was also an undercover agent for MI6A. He was supposed to watch for any signs of hostile espionage in Complex Two and also for any irregularities in the management of the Project itself.

  Lord Leighton would have also been infuriated to learn that J knew all about the programmer's undercover activities. J had agreed to have Leighton spied on only after a long argument with the Prime Minister. J knew that Leighton was loyal, as well as rich enough to be nearly unbribable. His private vices, if any, were really nobody else's business. He also knew what Lord Leighton would think of his being spied on.

  The Prime Minister turned a deaf ear to everything J said. «I don't necessarily disagree with you,» he said. «But Leighton isn't the whole Project. At least fifty other men could make off with a good deal of money or valuable supplies if they had a chance. We can't afford to leave them unwatched. Surely Leighton will understand that we're not after him?»

  J shook his head. «He might, but it wouldn't make any difference. He only tolerates security against espionage. Otherwise, he'll defend any scientist against us as if we'd attacked him personally.»

  «If he's that thin-skinned, do you think he's really suitable as director of the Project?»

  There was no point in wasting tact on anybody capable of such an idiotic remark. J shrugged. «I hardly think that matters. There's certainly no one else suitable.»

  The Prime Minister decided to reply as bluntly. «Very well, J. I'll put it as a direct order. Your people in the Project are to keep watch for any irregularities, not just foreign intelligence activities. I'll put that order in writing, so there won't be any question about what happens to you if it isn't carried out. Or would you rather retire now? We can keep this matter quiet if you do. You're gifted, J, but you're certainly not as unique as you say Leighton is.»

  The only really adequate reply to those words would have been to punch the Prime Minister in the nose. Since this was out of the question, there was really nothing J could do except go along and have Leighton's activities watched. The Prime Minister was partly right. Watching over the Project's security meant more than looking for Russian spies and English embezzlers. It meant looking out for Richard Blade and looking after Lord Leighton.

  So J gave his undercover man in Complex Two the appropriate orders and hoped the young man would know when to turn a blind eye. For a while it looked as if his hopes would be justified.

  Then came the eager call describing Leighton's new studies of the computer's electrical field and what he might be planning to do with them. J listened politely until he could find an excuse for hanging up, then poured himself a whiskey so large that his doctor would have screamed in protest. He sat down with the whiskey in his hand, staring out at another dismally gray and rainy London afternoon.

  He was going to have to act on this call, even if he thought the young man was jumping to conclusions. Leighton certainly seemed to have another bee in his bonnet. If the bee buzzed loudly enough, sooner or later the Prime Minister would hear it. Then there'd be questions asked, including why J hadn't informed the P.M. before.

  Also, there was Richard Blade to think about. Leighton's brainstorms sometimes created new and unnecessary dangers for Richard. Even if the younger man hadn't been almost a son to J, the old spymaster would have had to protest at putting the Project's only reliable test subject in unnecessary danger.

  The first thing to do, however, was call Richard himself. J drained the glass, went to the scrambled telephone in the corner, and began punching in Blade's number.

  It took J quite awhile to reach Blade, because the younger man wasn't at home or even in London. He was in Hampshire, miles from the nearest telephone, looking at a country house he wanted to buy.

  The real-estate agent fluttered around Blade like some annoying but harmless insect, humming the praises of the house. He seemed totally undaunted by the fact that the black-haired man beside him was nearly twice his size, six foot one and two hundred and fifty pounds, all of it muscle, which even Blade's heavy tweed sports jacket couldn't conceal. If Blade had wanted, he could have crushed the man like a fly.

  Instead Richard Blade tried to ignore him. He already knew everything he needed to know about the place. It would be nearly perfect for him, and it would also cost much more than he could afford. The initial cost wouldn't be outrageous for a house, outbuildings, and thirteen acres of land. It was making the place fit to live in that would break him. The house was built around 1760, and it had never really been modernized. Even worse, the last two owners hadn't bothered to keep the place up properly. Blade wasn't about to bankrupt himself doing all the work they'd l
eft undone over the last fifty years.

  The agent was still talking. Blade listened briefly, decided he still wasn't saying anything important, and started doing mental arithmetic. He wanted the house so badly he could taste it. He also wanted to find some flaw in his previous calculations which would let him make an offer. All his training and experience warned him against this sort of wishful thinking, but this time he wasn't facing a KGB agent or some monster in Dimension X. This was his private life, and he was damned well going to do some wishful thinking if he felt like it.

  Unfortunately all Blade's desire for the house couldn't make the figures come out in his favor. He would still be a good fifteen thousand pounds short. He was about to cut off the agent's humming when a thought struck him. «Are you allowed to sell an option on this house?» he asked.

  The agent looked at him for a moment as if «option» were a word in Chinese. Then an unmistakable look of eagerness passed over his thin face, and he nodded.

  By the time they'd finished sketching out the terms for an option agreement, the rain was coming down in sheets. Blade hoped none of the low spots in the dirt lane back to the highway would flood. The idea of being marooned here all night with no better company than the real-estate agent was unappealing.

  For three thousand pounds, half of it refundable, Blade could buy an exclusive option on the house for six months. That would give him time for the next trip into Dimension X, no matter how long it took to fix the KALI capsule. His broken jaw was completely healed, and he himself was fit and ready to go.

  The option would also give him time to try bargaining with the real-estate firm on the price of the house. From the agent's eagerness over the option, his firm hadn't had a decent offer on the house for years. They might be willing to bargain, particularly if Blade didn't need a mortgage. He hoped they wouldn't ask too many questions about where his cash came from.