by Джеффри Лорд
Empire Of Blood
( Richard Blade - 23 )
Джеффри Лорд
Роланд Джеймс Грин
Empire of Blood
Blade 23
By Jeffrey Lord
Chapter 1
The salesman examined the Barclay’s Bank draft with elaborate care. Richard Blade crossed one long leg over the other and clasped both tanned hands around the raised knee as he waited.
Finally the salesman raised his head and smiled. «All in order, Mr. Blade. Now, if you’ll just sign here-«as he shoved a small stack of papers toward Blade. Blade bent forward, his chair creaking as he shifted his two hundred and ten pounds of bone and muscle, and drew out a pen.
He had to sign his name twelve different times on eight different sheets of paper before he’d finished. It occurred to him that if anyone ever wanted copies of his signature for purposes legitimate or otherwise, all they’d have to do was examine the files of Hollis Brothers Automobile Sales and Services Limited, London.
«Very good, Mr. Blade. The model you wish will run you about a hundred and seventy pounds less than the sum of this draft. We will have the delivery driver give you a check for the balance.»
Blade shook his head. «I would advise against that. You say the model I want isn’t in stock at the moment?»
The salesman shook his head. «No, sir, it isn’t. I expect it will be about three weeks before we have one in.»
«That’s what I thought,» said Blade. «Unfortunately, I’ll be leaving the country for an indefinite period within the next couple of days. Family business in America-it seems they’ve got it into their heads that I’m the Indispensable Man. I haven’t the remotest notion when I’ll be back. I think the wisest thing to do would be to garage the car here until I return and apply the balance to the garage fees. Can you do that?»
«Oh, yes, by all means, sir. It will be quite easy.» The salesman opened the drawer of his desk and rummaged through it, then pulled out still another form. «If you’ll just sign this, here and here-«
Finally it was all over. Blade rose, shook the salesman’s hand, then buttoned up all but the top button of his Burberry.
«Thank you, Mr. Blade,» said the salesman. «It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, and I hope you find driving your new car altogether agreeable. Good day, sir.»
Outside it was a sunny but brisk London morning, with enough wind so that Blade promptly buttoned the top button on his coat. Then he headed down the street toward the nearest taxi stand. As he went, he contemplated how his profession complicated even such a simple business as buying a new car.
Richard Blade was indeed leaving England within the next couple of days, but he was not traveling to America, on family business or for any other reason. He was traveling much farther, into a place where only he of all living people could go, survive, and return safely to England.
That place was called Dimension X: It was sometimes hard to realize that until only a very few years ago no one, least of all Richard Blade, had even suspected the existence of Dimension X.
Yet that was the simple truth. It was not long ago that a bad-tempered scientific genius named Lord Leighton had conceived the idea of directly linking an advanced computer and a human brain. He had found in Richard Blade the perfect combination of physical and mental development needed for the experiment.
What happened after that would have made scientific history if it hadn’t immediately become the most closely guarded secret in Britain. The link with the computer did indeed alter Blade’s mind, but not quite as Lord Leighton had intended. The whole world in which he’d lived until then vanished from around Blade. All his senses now registered a strange, savage, primitive world called Alb.
In that world Blade moved about, lived and loved, ate, drank, fought, killed, bled, and, by his strength and wits, managed to survive. Eventually Lord Leighton adjusted the computer, Blade’s senses returned to normal, and England reappeared around him.
That was the first human encounter with Dimension X. It was not and could not be the last. Dimension X was rich in land, resources, knowledge. If that wealth could somehow be tapped, it would mean a mighty rebirth for Britain. Dimension X would have to be explored and that exploration kept a closely guarded secret.
So Project Dimension X came into existence. Richard Blade left his post as a top agent for the secret intelligence agency MI6 to begin a new profession as the world’s first interdimensional explorer. Tomorrow he would begin his twenty-third expedition into Dimension X.
Blade was not only the first person to explore Dimension X; he was the only one who had ever done so and was still alive and sane. Others had possessed the qualities of mind and body needed to travel into Dimension X, but they were all dead. It was just as well that some of them were dead, for they had been agents who might have given the Dimension X secret to the Soviet Union. How much damage that might have done no one even cared to guess.
Yet there was no doubt that more people were needed for the project. One man could only do so much exploring, even a man as gifted as Blade. Dimension X was vast and varied, full of enough complexities and unknowns to baffle even Lord Leighton. Every trip into Dimension X produced a little more knowledge-and also more proof of how much there was to learn. A dozen men might grow old exploring Dimension X without more than scratching the surface, and Blade was only one man.
Even so, he was pushing back the unknown, a little bit at a time. On his last trip he had taken a ring with him from Home Dimension into the forests of Gleor and back again. No object before that ring had made the round trip. It was only a small beginning, of course, but it might promise more for the future. Perhaps in time Blade and those who came after him could travel into Dimension X and not arrive naked as newborn babes, with nothing but their wits and muscles between them and sudden death.
Perhaps. In the meantime, Blade’s profession as an explorer of other dimensions made continuous trouble for him in his day-to-day existence in this one!
Take the matter of a new car, for example. Just before his last trip into Dimension X, Blade’s MG had burned out a bearing. The car had been needing a lot of repairs recently, so Blade decided that it was time to say goodbye to the MG and get the best new car that he could afford. His means were a good deal better than the average Englishman’s-much of what Blade brought back from Dimension X was gold and jewels, some worked or mounted, some raw. The raw gold and jewels were examined, then judiciously and quietly sold off through MI6 channels. Most of the money went to finance the project-its appetite for new equipment and new people never stopped growing-but the elderly spymaster known only as J insisted that some of the money go to Blade. He loved the younger man as he would have loved a son if marriage and a family had ever been part of his life. He saw no reason why Blade should not receive some tangible reward for all the time he spent in deadly danger on the very secret service of Her Majesty the Queen. Blade protested, but J insisted and went on insisting.
So a secret account was set up-again through MI6 channels-and bit by bit money trickled into it. Enough bits added up to quite a respectable sum. At the moment the balance in the account stood at just under fifty thousand pounds. Even with inflation, that was not a despicable sum of money.
It was certainly more than enough to buy any sort of car Blade might let himself dream of, even a Rolls-Royce or a Ferrari. A spectacularly expensive car, however, would make him conspicuous. It was not wise for a man in Blade’s position to be conspicuous.
As for something small-well, Blade figured that he got more than enough exercise in Dimension X. He didn’t have to try shoehorning himself into an undersized sports car e
very time he wanted to go somewhere in Home Dimension. There were a good many women who liked doing this even less. Blade’s Home Dimension social life was discreet, but it was active enough for him to have to consider this angle.
So he decided on a Rover-comfortable, fast enough, cheap enough to be fairly common, expensive enough to match his cover identity as a youngish man of good family and respectable private means. What else was there left to do but go down and buy the car?
Quite a bit, unfortunately. The money for the car had to creep out of the secret account into a more open one at Barclay’s Bank and from there to Blade’s pocket. His cover identity had to stand up under the usual host of credit checks without arousing anyone’s suspicion, or even their curiosity. Then and only then could Blade go out and behave like a more or less normal man who wanted a new car.
At least his cover identity was in his own name. Beyond a certain point false names caused more trouble and confusion than they saved. That was good. There were times when, if Blade hadn’t been able to sign his own name, he’d have wondered exactly who he was.
As he approached the taxi stand, a taxi came swinging by. He raised a hand to hail it, then stepped off the curb and ran toward it as it slowed. The driver threw open the door and Blade scrambled in.
«Westminster Embankment.»
«Yes, sir.» The driver let in the clutch and the taxi whirled off down the street as Blade settled back in the seat.
Chapter 2
The massive bronze doors in front of Blade slid smoothly open with a faint hiss. He was now two hundred feet below the Tower of London, in the secret complex that housed so much of Project Dimension X.
A familiar corridor stretched out in front of Blade, empty, echoing, and sterile. It was all concrete and polished tile and dull shades of paint. The only sign of life in it was the man walking toward Blade, the man called J. Blade stepped forward to meet him. They shook hands. J’s grip was as firm as ever. Like so much else about the man, it did not change.
There were supposed to be photographs in existence that showed J as a young man. Blade had never seen them, nor had anyone else who was willing to admit it. For all the years he’d known. J, the man had looked like a thoroughly respectable senior civil servant, urbane, quiet, flawlessly tailored, a gray man who moved through life without making waves or attracting much attention. Over those years J’s face gained a few more wrinkles and his hair showed more white and less gray. That was all.
Appearances were more than usually deceiving in this case. Behind J’s modest exterior lay the brains, talent, and experience of one of the greatest of all spymasters. Every sensible man who had been in the same line of work over the last forty years either respected or feared him, and sometimes both. J was also a comfortable and agreeable man to work for, a quality lacking in many other brilliant people in the great game of espionage. His friendship helped make Blade’s lonely and complicated life more endurable.
«Ah, Richard,» said J, when they’d finished shaking hands. «I must say, your beard suits you. I’m glad that beards are coming back into respectability. It simplifies at least one of our problems.»
Blade sighed. «I’m glad you like it. I can’t say I share your enthusiasm. It used to be that when I came back from Dimension X with a beard, shaving it off made me feel back home again. Now I’m going to have to carry this blasted chin spinach around everywhere.»
«I know,» said J. «But you know the situation.»
Blade nodded. «I do. Unless it’s improved over the past couple of weeks?» he added hopefully.
J shook his head. «We’re still exactly where we were the last time I talked to you about it.»
«In other words, stalemate?»
«That’s about it,» said J. He turned and they began the long walk down the corridor to the computer rooms at the far end.
The «situation» bothering both J and Blade would have been ludicrous under other circumstances. It all began on a stormy night just before Blade’s last trip into Dimension X, when Blade was taking a train into London. The train was wrecked, with fifteen people killed and more than fifty injured.
Blade was unhurt. He promptly went to work, using all his strength and skill to help the others in the wreck. His swift rescue work and first-aid measures saved at least a dozen lives.
Blade realized that being a hero would put him squarely in the middle of a blaze of publicity, making him conspicuous and possibly endangering the security of Project Dimension X. So he slipped quietly off into the stormy night just before the police and rescue teams arrived on the scene.
Enter the Chief Constable of the county, to hear about the mystery hero who had saved so many lives and then vanished. He immediately took it into his head that the man had disappeared because he was a wanted criminal! The Chief Constable had a composite drawing of the mystery hero prepared and took all the other steps necessary to launch a full-scale search. As Blade sailed off into Dimension X, Scotland Yard was being alerted to comb Britain for him!
At this point good luck and J both entered the picture, just in time to keep things from getting completely out of hand. Even a dozen witnesses together could not produce a recognizable picture of Richard Blade, seen briefly on a cold, dark night. What Scotland Yard and the newspapers and BBC put into circulation was a picture of Blade that his own mother wouldn’t have recognized.
J also went to work. MI6 had well-established routines for quietly blocking or sidetracking Scotland Yard in emergencies. In J’s opinion this was an emergency. The public uproar might eventually threaten Project Dimension X. Even if things didn’t go that far, it would certainly become difficult or impossible for Richard Blade to live a normal life in Britain. That thought made J see red.
Even Blade never learned the details of all that J did. Whatever was done, it was enough. Blade did not have to dispose of his apartment and all his possessions, assume a complete new identity, and live under cover in his own country. On J’s recommendation, he kept the beard he’d grown on his last trip to Dimension X. He also took extra precautions to keep people from trailing him. Apart from that, he could live at least as normal a life as he had before the whole business of the mystery hero exploded in his face.
«Eventually I suspect that interest will fade out entirely,» said J. «Then you can take off the beard and go back to normal. I could speed up the process, of course. But it would be a gamble.»
«Politics?» said Blade.
«Quite. We’d need direct intervention by the Prime Minister. That would be bound to attract attention in certain places that have a nasty habit of leaking things to the press. There could easily be a public scandal about the sinister plottings of security people. The Prime Minister’s in no mood to risk something like that now.»
«I can hardly blame him,» said Blade. «Besides, it would mean the hunt would be on again. As things stand now, it’s dying down. We’ll just have to wait it out.»
«True,» said J. «Although I must say that for once I’m rather glad that your job keeps you beyond the reach of Scotland Yard most of the time. It makes this sort of thing a dashed sight simpler to handle.»
They were now approaching the door to the computer rooms. They stopped briefly while electronic monitors scanned, identified, and approved them. Then the doors opened and they passed on.
The ever-increasing mass of equipment in the first few rooms was a familiar sight to both men. They passed swiftly onward from room to room with hardly a glance to either side. They only stopped when they came to the massive door of the main computer room. Beyond that door was Lord Leighton’s private sanctum, with the huge computer, the product of his genius and the heart of Project Dimension X.
Blade had seen the main computer as often as he had the supporting equipment in the outer rooms. Unlike the supporting equipment, the main computer remained interesting, even awe-inspiring. It was monstrous-ranks of towering consoles with gray, crackled finishes, rising almost to the rock ceiling of the room.
; Its creator was already on the spot, as he usually was. Lord Leighton came bustling out of the shadows as Blade and J entered. In spite of a hunchback, polio-twisted legs, and eighty-odd years, he moved with surprising speed and agility, wiping his hands on his filthy lab coat as he came.
«Greetings, gentlemen, greetings.» There was little age or feebleness to be heard in his voice. «We can proceed any time Richard is ready.» He looked at the attach case Blade was carrying. «You have the knife?»
«I do. I also brought the sheath and a belt I’ve had for some time.»
«Very good. I fear I cannot report much progress in our research into the matter of the ring. What about you?» he said with a glance at J.
«Nothing worth your time or mine to discuss at the moment,» said J. «I’m afraid I’ve been rather heavily committed in this blasted ‘mystery hero’ affair.»
«I quite understand,» said Leighton. «Very well, Richard. If you would care to change, I will see about activating the main sequence.»
Blade nodded and headed toward a small door in one wall, taking the attache case with him. Inside it was a commando knife he’d carried on a good many field missions over the years, along with its sheath and a belt he’d owned since he left Oxford. They all showed signs of wear and age, but the knife was as lethal as ever and the leather as tough. They had been good friends to him in Home Dimension. Perhaps they would survive to be equally good friends in Dimension X.
«Perhaps» was as far as Blade would go. The whole business of how to get something beside his own naked body from Home Dimension into Dimension X was still very much guesswork. All the hard data they had came from the transportation of one single solitary ring. It was being examined by every known method with a few techniques being made up on the spot. The examination had as yet revealed nothing.
Meanwhile, there was the theory that something Blade had owned, used, or carried for a while might have a better chance of making the trip. Lord Leighton normally hated relying on guesswork, but he made an exception for Project Dimension X. He was too good a scientist not to recognize the limitations of his own knowledge, and he did not want to see Blade endangered unnecessarily. Lord Leighton might have a computer instead of a heart where most people were concerned, but not with Blade or J.
