The duration?'

'Of the war.' The man smiled. 'They're not exactly what you'd call patriotic.'

'And their names?'

'The Storrows. Major, can I ask what all this is about exactly?'

'A man has been seen in this area. He may be connected with enemy activities. We want to find him and question him.'

'A fifth columnist?' said the man excitedly. 'A j.a.p-a-n.a.z.i traitor?' He looked at his wife. 'We'd certainly like to help you find him, wouldn't we, honey?'

'We certainly would, pumpkin,' said the enormous woman. The little man turned back to Butcher, his eyes guileless behind the lenses of his spectacles.

'But I'm afraid there's nothing we can tell you. We haven't seen anybody around here. I was out in the garden earlier, looking after the place, and there's certainly n.o.body out there.'

148.'And I've been indoors all day, baking,' said the woman. 'So I know there's n.o.body in the house. . . except us chickens.' She smiled at her own small joke.

'That sounds pretty comprehensive,' said Butcher. 'And the car in the driveway?'

'That's ours,' said the man. 'Haven't been out in it in days.'

'OK, well that's about everything,' said Butcher, rising to his feet. 'Looks like this is a dead end. Thanks for your help.'

'A pleasure, a pleasure,' said the little man, guiding him towards the door of the room. The fat woman stood aside to let them pa.s.s and began turning off the lights behind them. 'I'm only sorry that we couldn't be more help.' He ushered Butcher down the hallway to the front door.

'That's all right,' said Butcher. 'I'll just keep working away along the street.'

He stepped out of the house into the warm night.

'Good luck, Major,' called the little man from the doorway, waving.

'Thanks,' said Butcher, returning the wave. The porch light went out behind him.

He walked down the driveway to the iron gate, opened it and, without stepping through it, closed it loudly again. Then he stepped off the driveway onto the lawn and made his way back, through the garden, towards the dark house.

149.

Chapter Twelve.

The Well of Transition Butcher crossed the garden, invisible in the night, his feet silent on the gra.s.s.

As he approached the house he realised that the place wasn't entirely in darkness. There was a narrow shimmer of light coming from near ground level.

As he got nearer still, the shimmer gradually resolved itself into a series of rectangular bas.e.m.e.nt windows glowing with light. Butcher got down on his hands and knees and crawled towards one of the windows. The gla.s.s was pebbled and opaque, like the gla.s.s you got in bathroom windows, revealing nothing. It was firmly sealed. He tried the next one, and it was the same thing.

He remembered the axe he'd seen around the corner with the pile of lumber and considered going to fetch it. But the third window was open a crack. As he bent close he could hear voices coming from within the bas.e.m.e.nt.

'Just no need for it, man!'

'It's a momentous business, travelling between worlds. Don't you think it requires a momentous gesture to initiate it? A gesture written in blood?'

Butcher carefully eased the window open another few inches, lay down with his cheek pressed to the ground, and looked inside. He'd already identified the first speaker as Ray Morita, but he didn't recognise the second man. Peering in through the window he saw that it was a j.a.panese-American man in a bright-blue zoot suit. There were three other zoot-suiters, also j.a.panese-looking, standing nearby. Two of them had Thompson .45 calibre sub-machine-guns with the circular fifty-round magazines. The guns were pointed at a man and woman standing anxiously on a red circle in the middle of the white floor the Doctor and Ace.

There was one other woman in the bas.e.m.e.nt. Butcher's heart leapt when he saw that it was Lady Silk. He'd hit the jackpot. Butcher forced himself to quell his excitement and keep a cool head. There was someone else in the bas.e.m.e.nt, too. Someone wearing a ridiculous hooded white robe with a big red spot on the chest. When the figure moved he glimpsed the man's face. It was the fat woman's husband. The fat woman herself was nowhere in sight.

The j.a.p in the blue zoot suit was still talking. 'We have no choice, we need reinforcements.'

151.'No you don't, man,' said Ray. He was kneeling on the tiled floor of the bas.e.m.e.nt with a box of black crayons, surrounded by an elaborate scrawl of mathematical equations. He had worked his way across a white strip of floor and was now in the red central circle. To Butcher's untrained eye the equations looked like the same kind of mumbo jumbo the physicists were always scribbling on the blackboards in the ranch school.

'You don't need any more reinforcements,' said Ray. 'You just want some more foot soldiers because they make you feel important.'

Lady Silk laughed. 'He does have a point.'

The j.a.p in the zoot suit looked annoyed. 'Nevertheless, we have to dispose of these prisoners. We can't allow them to go free otherwise they will destroy all our careful planning. We must get rid of them somehow, so why not use them in this ritual, to open the gate between the worlds.'

'Blood isn't necessary, man,' quavered Ray, kneeling on the floor and scribbling equations. 'And you know that the bloodshed won't stop there. Once your goons come across we're going to have to find their duplicates in this world. . . '

'Which won't be difficult,' said the j.a.p. 'We've discovered that the duplicates are drawn to their otherworldly brothers. We don't even have to go to them.

They will come to us. They will find us, just like my double did, and yours, and Silk's. Even if they have to escape a detainment camp and travel across country, they will do so, drawn inexorably to us by links of blood and energy and fate. Don't worry we'll get them.'

'Sure, you'll get them,' said Ray. 'And then what, man? That's what I was saying. More bloodshed. . . '

'The discussion is closed,' said the j.a.p in the zoot suit. He turned to Lady Silk. 'How is he doing with those equations?'

Lady Silk walked across the tiled floor to the patch where Ray was scribbling. 'Well I'm no genius like him, but I'd say we were just about ready here.'

'All right,' said the j.a.p. He turned to the other zoot-suiters. 'Drag them over to the Well of Transition.'

Lady Silk laughed. 'Honestly, the Well of Transition. That's a goofball name if ever I heard one.'

'Don't be disrespectful,' said the j.a.p. 'It works.' He followed his men as the two with the Tommy guns forced Ace and the Doctor towards the well in the centre of the red circle.

'Now, how shall we do this?' said Lady Silk. 'Gun or a knife?'

Butcher decided he'd heard enough. He didn't understand half of the gibberish that they were spouting, but it was very clear that if he didn't act now the Doctor and Ace were done for. He rolled away from the window, preparing to scramble to his fret. As he did so he looked up and saw the night sky, 152full of stars. He also saw the fat, smiling face of the woman called Elina.

'We shouldn't have told you that last bit,' she said. 'That bit about the car.

You could probably tell the engine was still warm. We went just a bit too far.'

Butcher had recovered from his surprise and was wondering what would be the quickest and most effective way of shutting the woman up and keeping her from interfering. Then she lifted her fat arms up high, holding something up above her head. The thing had a long handle that led up to a wedge shape that blocked a patch of the stars in the sky. Butcher remembered the axe by the lumber pile, and rolled away just in time. The big woman snorted with effort as she brought the axe down, driving it into the earth where Butcher had been lying an instant earlier. He leapt to his feet as the woman snarled and wrenched the blade out of the earth, turning and swinging it at him.

Butcher dodged again.

He was being attacked by a fat woman with an axe. A lot of grotesque things had befallen him in his long career as a private eye, but this certainly ranked with the worst of them. It might have been funny if it wasn't so dangerous.

The woman panted and swung again, slicing air. He could keep dodging until she ran out of strength. For someone her size it wouldn't take long. But then she might get it into her brain to start shouting, which would be much worse.

If those j.a.ps with the Tommy guns got into the game he'd be finished.

Butcher was in civilian clothes with a snubnosed .38 tucked under his armpit in a shoulder holster. He could shoot his attacker if he had to and he might have to. But after the incident at the pond the other day he was in no hurry to kill another woman. And then there was the problem of the sound of the gunshot. Surprise was the only advantage he had, and that would be gone the moment the zoot-suiters in the bas.e.m.e.nt realised he was here.

The woman kept swinging at him and Butcher kept backing away from her.

She showed no signs of tiring yet, but at least she hadn't yelled for help. She was grunting and panting, brutally determined to cleave him apart with the axe. Butcher backed across the lawn, keeping his eyes on her, until he heard his feet grinding on gravel. He had reached the driveway. She kept stalking him, swinging whenever she got close enough. But by now Butcher had begun to formulate a plan of action.

The two of them edged across the driveway, the big murderous woman and the man backing away from her. They pa.s.sed the front of the house and the black marble steps. They reached the corner of the house, where Butcher hazarded a glance over his shoulder. It almost cost him his head. The moment he looked away, the woman lurched forward and swung the axe again. He felt the breeze of it graze his earlobe and all the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

But he'd seen what he needed to see. He dodged away from the woman, 153reached down and scooped up the large ceramic pot he'd noticed earlier. And then he moved towards towards the woman. For a split second she was too surprised to react; she'd become accustomed to the notion that Butcher would only move in perpetual retreat. But then she recovered, grunted, and brought the axe chopping down. the woman. For a split second she was too surprised to react; she'd become accustomed to the notion that Butcher would only move in perpetual retreat. But then she recovered, grunted, and brought the axe chopping down.

Butcher raised the ceramic pot above his head. The axe head smashed into it, shattering it like a giant pinata. For a moment the axe was caught in the wreckage of the broken pot but, with a frantic wriggling of her big shoulders, the woman managed to wrestle it free and lift it up again for another strike.

As the last fragments of broken ceramic rattled to the ground, Butcher was left holding the contents of the pot. The coiled garden hose.

He began to unwind the hose as he avoided the woman's next blow. Butcher soon had about three feet of hose swaying loose in his grip, with the bra.s.s nozzle at the end of it. He swung the length of hose in the air, like a la.s.soo, spinning it in wide circles above his head. The woman didn't seem to understand what was about to happen. She was raising the axe for yet another strike when Butcher stepped forward, snapped his hand and sent the heavy bra.s.s nozzle of the hose thudding into her face. It hit her squarely in the mouth and he heard the ugly sound of something breaking. Butcher felt an evil surge of savage pleasure.

The woman dropped the axe, put both hands to her face and made an appalled small noise, for all the world like a child injured on the playground in the middle of a game that had got out of hand. But Butcher didn't stop playing. He couldn't. He swung the hose back and whiplashed it forward again, hitting the woman on the back of the head. She went stumbling clumsily to the ground, face first, and Butcher watched her warily. After a while she stopped moving and Butcher, standing over her holding his improbably vicious weapon, began to feel sick about what he'd done. One look at the axe, lying where she'd dropped it, restored his priorities, though.

He checked the woman. She was deeply unconscious but still breathing, wetly and noisily through her wrecked mouth. Butcher used the garden hose to truss her up, cutting lengths of it with his pocket knife. Butcher had a pair of handcuffs in his jacket pocket but he suspected that he'd have need for those later on. So he tied the woman up with the hose and stuffed his handkerchief in her mouth, knotting another length of hose around her head to keep it in place. He made sure she was still breathing through her nose, rolled her into a dark bed of shrubs, and started shakily up the marble steps towards the front door of the house.

Ace was looking at the Doctor. He was trying to tell her something and she was trying to work out what it was. If she didn't, they were both going to end 154up dead.

But the Doctor couldn't say anything aloud or make any obvious moves because the goons with the machine guns were watching their every move.

Ace desperately tried to read the look he was giving her. Ray and Imperial Lee were still arguing about their fate, but Ace had no doubt about the eventual outcome.

'I won't let you do it,' said Ray. 'These people are my friends.'

Imperial Lee grinned. 'You won't let us kill two of your friends but you're helping us wipe out an entire universe?'

'That's nothing to do with me, man,' said Ray.

Lady Silk chuckled. 'Ray's in denial,' she said. The Doctor was staring at Lady Silk, as though there was great significance in what she was saying.

Then he looked at Ace, then back at Lady Silk. Finally back at Ace again. He made the tiniest of movements with his head, the faintest suggestion of a nod.

He was trying to tell her something. But what? Ace felt like screaming with frustration.

'That whole chain-reaction business is just hoodoo man. It's never going to work. You're never going to destroy any universe.' Ray's voice was trembling with emotion.

Imperial Lee was calm and amused. 'Hoodoo? You mean like the hoodoo that opened a portal between the dimensions? The portal that brought you here? I suppose you're not standing here now?'

Ray shook his head, his plump face mottled with thwarted rage. 'That worked man. But all this destruction jive. That's just a crazy power trip.

It's not going to happen. I ought to know, man. I'm the only real physicist here.'

Lady Silk cleared her throat. Everybody looked at her, including the Doctor.

He hadn't stopped looking at her. Then he glanced urgently at Ace and made a nodding motion. Ace met his gaze and tried to read his eyes. What was he trying to tell her?

'That's very interesting, Ray,' said Lady Silk. 'But why don't you tell us what made you quit your job at the particle accelerator lab?'

'I didn't quit man. I was fired.'

'That's the story you like to tell,' said Lady Silk. 'But I've seen your files. I know what really happened. You resigned. Why don't you tell us why?' Ray stared at her, stubbornly silent. 'All right,' said Silk. 'I'll tell you why. You quit because you were scared. You thought that the danger of creating a rogue particle in the accelerator hinged on your equations. If you pursued your equations all the way to a solution then the rogue would appear. It would happen. And it would destroy the world.'

155.Ray stood there, slumped and silent staring at the tiled floor, which was scrawled with his equations. The bas.e.m.e.nt was completely silent for a moment, then there was the sound of footsteps hurrying down the stairs. A white-robed figure came hurrying in. It was Albert Storrow. He paused and listened to what Lady Silk was saying.

'Your presence at the accelerator lab combined with the right calculations '

'The right incantations incantations,' said Storrow.

'Shut up, Albert.' Lady Silk turned to Ray. 'If performed in the proximity of one p.i.s.s-ant particle accelerator your calculations would have led to the apocalypse.'

'Praise the apocalypse!' said Storrow.

'Shut up, Albert. So, Ray, what do you think will happen if you're performing calculations in the proximity of an atom bomb blast?'

The Doctor was staring fixedly at Lady Silk, then looking back at Ace and nodding. What was he trying to convey? She tried to concentrate, to ignore the argument that was flaring up again between Ray and Imperial Lee.

'Maybe you're right about some of this stuff,' said Ray. 'But not the blood.

There's just no need for it, man!'

'It's a momentous business, travelling between worlds,' said Imperial Lee.

'Don't you think it requires a momentous gesture to initiate it? A gesture written in blood?'

The argument kept raging. The Doctor kept looking at Lady Silk, then at Ace, then nodding.

All too soon the arguing stopped and Imperial Lee said, 'The discussion is closed. How is he doing with those equations?'

Lady Silk studied Ray's crayoned equations on the floor. 'Well I'm no genius like him,' she said pointedly, 'but I'd say we were just about ready here.'

'All right,' said Imperial Lee. 'Drag them over to the Well of Transition.'

Lady Silk snorted with laughter. 'Honestly, the Well of Transition. That's a goofball name if ever I heard one.

Imperial Lee said, 'Don't be disrespectful, it works.' He gestured to his flunkies and they closed in on the Doctor and Ace with their guns. Ace looked at the Doctor and he exchanged a desperate glance with her. He looked at Lady Silk again. As he and Ace backed away from the gunmen they moved closer to Lady Silk. The Doctor looked at her, then back at Ace, then nodded his head again, straining his chin towards his chest. Ace had the horrible sense that she was never going to understand what he was trying to tell her and they were both going to die here in this California bas.e.m.e.nt.

'Now, how shall we do this?' said Lady Silk in a lazy voice. 'Gun or a knife?'