by Brian Lumley
“Yet I saw … something. A flash of fire from a ricochet? It could be. But it didn’t look like fire. It was tiny, bright, and it came came right at me—at my head—and couldn’t have missed me. If it had been a bullet, then I was dead …
“ … But it wasn’t, couldn’t have been, and I only thought I was dead.”
Liz nodded, her mouth suddenly dry. Because for a moment, as Jake had finished speaking, she had received a vivid impression of something alien to all science and knowledge, something from outside. She’d “seen” his meeting—his confrontation?—with what he’d described. A transitory thing, it came and went, like a bright flash of fire reflecting from the surface of his mind … or still burning in his mind?
“That was when you did it,” she said hoarsely, and cleared her throat. “That was when you moved, took the Möbius Route.”
“There was an indescribable darkness,” Jake told her. “More than darkness, a nothingness. It was death; I mean, I thought it was death, for what else could it be? But I was drawn into and through it, towards a point of light.”
“A typical out-of-body experience,” Liz said. “A near-death experience, as certain survivors are supposed to have known it. The Light, which you refused to enter.”
But Jake shook his head. “Refused nothing; I had no choice; I was dragged right in! But suddenly there was gravity, weight, and I’d been struggling with the darkness—whatever it was—and was the wrong way up. I emerged upside down, fell, smacked my head against something … a desk, as it turned out. So you see, the second bout of darkness wasn’t nearly so drastic. I was merely unconscious. Or about to be.
“Anyway, even as I passed out I remember there were alarms going off, someone hammering at a door, a voice shouting. Then nothing more.”
“Not until you came to at E-Branch HQ in London,” Liz said. “That’s where your talent had taken you: to Harry’s Room, sanctuary.”
He shook his head in denial. “Not my talent. Oh, someone’s, as it appears. Harry’s, maybe? But not mine, Liz, not mine … .”
The radio crackled into life, Trask’s voice saying: “All call-signs, but especially Hunter One, this is Zero One. Maybe five miles up the road from here, the chuck wagon. Base camp, where we eat, drink and debrief. Those with beds in the ops vehicle, use ’em. Tentage for the rest. Or should you prefer to stretch your legs you can put up your own tents and bivouacs. And Hunter One, I’ll be wanting to speak to you. All acknowledge.”
“Hunter One, roger,” Liz answered into her handset. And in strict numerical order, coming through the hiss and crackle of static:
“Hunter Two, roger.”
“Hunter Three, roger,” and so on.
Jake shifted his position in the driver’s seat, cranked his neck, and glanced back along the dark, winding road through the ancient river valley. Back there, stretched well out, a handful of headlights made a lantern string in the night. And from dragonfly shapes on high came the steady, near-distant whup! whup! whup! of powerful blades slicing the air, the occasional flickering beam of a searchlight.
“Five miles,” Liz said. “Maybe seven or eight minutes. Will you tell me the rest of it while we still have time?”
“The rest of it?” Jake was reluctant again. “You still need convincing I’m crazy?”
“You’re not crazy,” she said. “Just troubled. Come on, Jake. You ran away, escaped again, this time from E-Branch. What happened? How did that come about? Was it any different?”
He sighed and said, “Once you stick your claws in you just don’t let go, do you?”
“Or could it be that I’m simply fascinated?” she answered. And quickly added, “Er, with your story, I mean.”
“Huh!” Jake snorted, but he also angled his face a little, turned it away from her. Liz could have sworn that he was grinning and didn’t want her to see. But that was a good thing.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m fascinated, period. So now will you tell me the rest?”
“So you can report it to Trask, right? Well I’ve got news for you: your boss—our boss—has already had this from me, oh, at least a dozen times. Don’t you get it? I can’t tell you what isn’t there.”
“Then tell me what is,” she said.
Again Jake’s sigh, before he succumbed to the inevitable.
“Okay, this is how it was … .”
“When—or rather where—I woke up, everyone was speaking English. I don’t know what I thought. Oh, several things. A jangle of things, rattling around in my skull. Maybe, following injuries sustained in the failed jailbreak, I’d been extradited back to England after all. But what injuries? While it’s true I was flat on my back with a sheet and blanket thrown over me, I didn’t feel in any way injured. Also, I was in no way conscious of the passage of any real time; it felt like snap! … I had been in Turin and now was here. So logically, while this wasn’t the prison, it had to be a place somewhere in or near Turin.
“As for the people, Trask and Co.—they weren’t jailers or even physicians. So if this place was a hospital, well, it wasn’t like any I’d ever heard of! And they kept asking me a lot of nonsense questions, the silliest with regard to my identity. ‘Who are you?’ they all wanted to know. Huh! Who were they kidding? If they didn’t know who I was, who would? Who was I? But the question I kept asking myself was, who the hell were they?
“Then a real doctor arrived who checked me over, giving me a thorough physical before I was allowed up on my feet. I supposed I was lucky that I hadn’t at first been able to talk even if I’d wanted to. The whole experience had struck me dumb. But then it dawned on me that they really didn’t have any idea who I was. So why should I tell them?
“I kept quiet, told them nothing, didn’t even speak.
“But Trask—he knew I wasn’t on the level. Right from square one I could see that he was more than curious, positively suspicious about me. I suppose he had every right to be; I know now that the place I—er, emerged into? ‘Harry’s Room?’—is highly significant to the Branch. More than that, though, Trask knew I was lying. Even without me saying a word, he knew I wasn’t telling the truth, knew I was hiding something.
“Well, of course I was! Wherever I’d ‘escaped’ to, anywhere had to better than the vermin-infested slaughterhouse in Turin that I’d escaped from! And yes, I had already made up my mind that as soon as this weird crowd gave me room to breathe, I’d likewise be escaping from here—wherever ‘here’ was!
“Finally, instead of asking me stuff and getting no satisfactory answers, no answers at all, Trask said, ‘You’re in the headquarters of a branch of government, a very off-limits establishment, Mr … . whoever you are. You shouldn’t be here, and the penalty for trespass is a high one. But I’m really interested in you, in how you arrived—especially where you arrived—and I’d very much like you to start explaining. If you don’t, I’ll have to assume you’re a common criminal and deal with you on that basis.’
“But then he got a certain look in his eye, like he’d suddenly stumbled across the truth—maybe a truth even I didn’t know—and quickly went on, ‘Or maybe an uncommon criminal? In which case we might just be getting somewhere.’
“Some of Trask’s people had guns and there didn’t seem too much point in trying to break out of there, not at present. So I just had to keep playing along.
“Finally, I was escorted to the HQ ops room.” Jake glanced at Liz. “Do you know the place? I take it you’ve been there.”
He waited for her nod, the one word that summed up her own feelings the first time she’d seen the ops room. “Awesome …”
“Yes, awesome,” he agreed. “I don’t know about ghosts, but E-Branch certainly has the gadgets! Anyway, as soon as we entered—before anyone could stop me—I stepped to a window and yanked the blinds. It was night but there were plenty of street lights. There could be no mistaking where I was; the very sight of it set me reeling. That skyline, that city. Impossible, but it was Westminster! London! The centre of bloody
London!
“And grabbing me, looking at me with those all-seeing eyes of his, Trask said, ‘Surprise, surprise! So where did you think you were, Mr. Nobody?’
“By then a lot of other people had arrived. They’d got the place up and running. It was the middle of the night after all, and my being there was just as big—maybe a bigger—shock to them as it was to me. But they must have a good emergency call-in; the place was fully operative in no time at all. And every man-jack and woman of them wide-eyed, whispering, curious … maybe even awestruck? But why? What was so special about me?
“Anyway, things were happening at a rapid pace.
“‘Prison clothing,’ Trask said. ‘At a guess, continental. Very well, get fingerprints, mug shots—do it now. Then get a link to Interpol, see if we can get a match. But let’s not get carried away, not yet. Let’s not think the unthinkable, or the incredible. Check the security system and see if it recorded a physical break-in. And let’s have a check on all doors and windows, and the elevator. Then get me the duty officer. Didn’t I hear him saying something about not being able to get into Harry’s Room because the door was locked? Now why would Mr. Nobody here first break in, then lock himself in? And how could he do it anyway without a key … assuming he broke in at all?’
“Trask said all of these things, if not in the same words. And he probably said a lot more that I can’t remember before he finished up with: ‘Answers, people, I want all the answers. And I do mean tonight.’
“I had been fingerprinted and photographed by the time two new agents entered the ops room. Trask greeted them with, ‘Current Affairs, and Tomorrow’s Affairs. And not before time, you two.’”
Liz nodded, said, “Millicent Cleary and Ian Goodly. Millicent is a telepath, but she’s also an expert in current affairs. She has that kind of memory. You want to know what’s gone down in the last ten years, ask Millicent. And Ian Goodty—”
“—A precog,” Jake said. “Yes, I know that now. But then—I couldn’t make head nor tail of their conversation. Trask wanted to know why Goodly hadn’t ‘seen’ anything, and he asked the woman if she was ‘getting’ anything. That was the way he talked to everyone around him. It all seemed pretty esoteric to me.”
“Espers have an almost different tongue,” Liz answered. “It takes some getting used to.”
“Anyway, Ian Goodly was at a loss to explain his lapse. And the woman, Millicent Cleary? She stared hard at me, frowned and said there was a lot of confusion. Damn right there was!”
“The confusion was in you,” Liz told him.
“Looking back on it, you’re dead right,” he said. And after a moment:
“By then all the wall screens were up and working—people processing my pictures and feeding them into machines, computer keyboards tap, tap, tapping away—but I was a little less the centre of attention. I saw my chance, snatched a gun from a man who was momentarily distracted, grabbed ahold of Goodly. I had the gun to his neck, his arm up behind his back.
“For a moment I thought Trask and the others might rush me. But then Goodly said, ‘It’s okay, Ben. Everything will be fine. Just let us go, and be sure we’ll be back.’
“I told him, ‘Do you want to bet?’ But now … I’m glad he didn’t! I’ll cut a long story short. I got Goodly out of there and into the elevator. He used his card without argument. Then we were out in the street. Which was when he turned the tables on me. How? Well, I suppose he saw the future, knew I wouldn’t shoot him. Or maybe he saw that I couldn’t?
“Anyway, he just twisted round to face me, grabbed the gun and started wrestling me for it. I was so surprised … I just let go of the thing! And the fact was I couldn’t have shot him anyway, not an innocent man. But I couldn’t say the same thing for him, now could I? And there he was, crouching down, aiming the gun at me!”
The vehicle was nosing down a slight decline. As they came round a shallow bend, Jake saw campfires and started to brake. Then a man stepped out onto the crumbling tarmac and made signals, directing them into a makeshift roadside parking area.
As they slowed to a standstill, Liz sat motionless, said, “Finish it.”
And Jake thought, Why not? Except there’s nothing left to tell! Or if there was he couldn’t possibly explain it. But he could at least try. “It’s already finished,” he said. “When I thought Goodly was going to shoot me, I made a dive for cover. I mean, I knew I was diving to safety … but that wasn’t possible. How could there be any cover, any safety, out there in the middle of the street?”
“There couldn’t be,” she said.
“No,” Jake answered huskily, pale in the flickering firelight. “There couldn’t be. Not out there in the street. But it wasn’t me who reacted to the perceived danger, Liz. Not me but someone in my head. Someone or something that reckoned I would be safer—that I’d be safer—”
But Liz, reading it clearly in his mind, came to his aid and finished it for him: “—That you’d be much safer back in Harry’s Room, yes,” she sighed.
He shook his head, frowned and said, “But safe from what? From Goodly, who didn’t intend to harm me in the first place?”
She made no answer but thought: No, just safe—period. Maybe Ian Goodly’s gun hadn’t triggered the thing at all; maybe it simply hadn’t wanted Jake out there on his own, on the streets. For whatever it was, this thing had been new to him at that time. Still very strong in him—and having only recently found him—it hadn’t been about to let him escape. Not without first exploring him, and not until Jake had explored its possibilities, its potential.
Such were Liz’s thoughts. But bringing them back to earth:
“We’re there,” said Jake. “So are we going to sit here all night? Me, I’d like a mug of coffee and a bite to eat.”
7
MORE GADGETS AND GHOSTS
As Liz and Jake got out of their vehicle, Trask came over and checked it for damage: a few scratches to the paintwork, some small dents in the hood, and the missing windscreen of course. “Did you have this attended to?”
Liz knew what he was concerned about: not the damage itself but rather its origin, and any possible contamination that might have been left behind. She nodded. “Back at the Old Mine gas station. A squad sprayed her down, cleaned up the mess.”
“I worry, that’s all,” Trask explained. “But having seen some of the measures the Travellers take on Sunside, I suppose that’s only natural.” He shrugged. “I don’t know … maybe I’m too cautious.” His reference to Sunside flew over Jake’s head, but he was getting used to that kind of thing.
“I didn’t see you taking too much care of yourself,” Jake told him. “Back there, I mean. You and the old man, Lardis? It was as if you didn’t give a damn between you! No nose plugs or combat gear. No gas masks. No precautions.”
Trask looked at him. “Double standards? Is that what you’re saying? Do as I say, not as I do? Not really. Maybe one day I’ll tell you my story. But couldn’t it simply be that some of us have less to lose?” And before he could be asked to elaborate:
“As for Lardis Lidesci, he’s been doing his own thing all his life. Perhaps there’s a partial immunity among the Szgany, I can’t say. But even so I watch him, just as he keeps his eye on everyone else. And the day he gets rid of his silver bells, or starts shrinking from the sun …” He let it go at that.
“Maybe I haven’t been listening very much,” Jake said. “In fact I’m sure I haven’t. There’s been too much happening—not only to me but all around me—for my tiny brain to accept it all at once. But what if I start listening as of now? Am I asking too much that we sit down sometime so you can fill me in, put me fully in the picture about E-Branch? I mean, if I’m to work for you, isn’t it only right I should know something of what’s going on?”
“So you’ve finally decided you’ll work for us?”
Jake pulled a wry face. “Actually, I thought you had!” And all three walked towards one of the campfires.
The rest of t
he vehicles were arriving and lining up on the road before being allocated parking areas. Making himself heard over the revving motors, Trask shouted a few instructions, then answered Jake. “Oh, I think there’s work for you. But there are still a few things I need to clear up. If I’m to control you, I need to know what I’m controlling.” He looked at the other, his gaze seeming to pierce the younger man through and through, and with a wry smile continued, “I’ve got to be sure you won’t just cut and run—like maybe in a crisis, when you’re most needed. After all, you do still have your own agenda.”
“Don’t you ever trust anybody?” Jake growled, knowing that indeed Trask had seen right through him.
But enigmatic as ever, Trask wasn’t buying it. “In my time with the Branch,” he said, “I’ve seen what trust can do … and what it’s done to some of my favourite people.”
They sat by the fire with one or two other agents, most of them keeping to themselves, lost in their own thoughts now that the night’s work was done. It was a night they’d been building up to for some time. The Old Lidesci dished out food—steaks, steaming stew from a container on a military shallow-trench back-burner, and man-sized chunks of bread fresh from the burner’s oven—but with the exception of Lardis himself no one was much interested in eating. Maybe it was the back-burner’s roar, the way it sounded so much like a flamethrower … .
By the time the three had done eating, and washed it down with mugs of coffee, the big articulated truck was in situ and Ian Goodly had gone to check on incoming messages. By then too the rest of the agents had sat down to eat, and the atmosphere wasn’t quite so heavy.
Liz had been yawning for some time, and though she swore she would never sleep, still she’d gone off to seek out a bivouac for herself. Watching her go, Jake put down his empty mug and said to Trask, “Me, I’m not tired either. In fact my mind is going every which way. So all misgivings aside, I’m asking you to tell me what I’ve got myself involved with, how it all began, and how you think I can fit it.”
