For again the principle applied: that Nathan couldn't be everywhere at once. And at last a small measure of success - which didn't last long. He couldn't be everywhere, but his weapons could.

'From thralls freshly converted we learned how he had disseminated his destructive devices - his guns and grenades, and so forth - among as many of the tribes as possible. And he had taught them how to use them. But these weapons and the "ammunition" they used were not in unlimited supply. From time to time Nathan must replenish them by venturing into the h.e.l.l-lands.

'That in itself posed a question: how was it possible for Nathan to make these trips to the h.e.l.l-lands without using the Starside Gate? For the Gate was no longer accessible. Where in our time it had rested in the bottom of a crater in the lee of the foothills not far from the great pa.s.s, now it was raised up and stood in the centre of a lake! And that lake of white water had ma ny small whirlpools to suck a swimmer down.

'Often in our forays across the barrier mountains into Sunside we had seen it there: that fountain of water, all lit from within, rising up high into the night and falling back into the lake.

'In order to solve that problem, we flew out one night; or rather, 356.

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Malinari and Vavara flew out, and a few lieutenants and thralls in attendance.

For Lord Szwart would not consider going anywhere near such a brilliant source of light, despite that it was cold.

'Ah, but that was indeed a fortunate trip - for the Wamphyri at least, if not (as it later turned out) for me; though of course I could not know that th en. Anyway, during the lo ng day previous, while we vampires slept or carried out our subterranean duties beneath the stumps of the old stacks, apparently the lake had run dry!

'And there stood the Gate, raised up in its crater socket, like the blind white eye of some fallen Cyclops shining up into the night. But as for the lake and its fountain of milky water: they were no more, not even a trickle.' The earth was dry, caked, and wrinkled into channels that showed how the water had disappeared down circular boreholes that angled into the bedrock like conduits to h.e.l.l. A weird thing, this Gate; weird as the tumbling moon or ice-chip stars, and just as inexplicable.

'Malinari, Vavara and their men had left their flyers in the shadowy foothills between the Gate a nd the gre at pa.s.s, well away from the Gate itself. Facing downhill on a moderate slope, the flyers were positioned for immediate flight.

It was a safety measure, to ensure a quick getaway should such become necessary. And so it may be seen that even among the Great Vampires the h.e.l.l-lands Gate was hel d in no small measure of respect.

'And separating into small, wide-spread groups, we applied the same caution to our method of approach - moving from boulder clump to boulder clump, and always sticking to the shadows - as we drew closer to the Gate. But we were still some distance away when suddenly my master threw up a warning hand, and issued a mental alarm that reached out to all of us: '"Something is coming through the Gate!" his voice hissed in our minds, as we melted back into darkest shadows.

'And he was correct, of course. He had sensed their ali en minds, these men of the h.e.l.l-lands (of your world, that is), as they stepped forth onto the surface of our world. Far more importantly, however, Malinari had sensed their unpreparedness. Oh, they had weapons as devastating as Nathan's, but for protection as opposed to open aggression. Also, they had little or no idea what to expect in Starside, and to a man their minds were pre- occupied with greed for the heavy, malleable yellow metal that you call gold, which in my world is common.

'They were thirty-two in number, half of them being soldiers who took up positions on the flanks as the rest formed into an unruly, excited, and chattering body. Then they marched for the great pa.s.s. Two of the soldiers rode noisy, wheeled engines that cut the darkness with beams of cold white light; they went ahead to pick a route through the many boulders that litter the area. Keeping still and silent in the shadows, we let them pa.s.s right through the various groups of our divided party.

'Then it was that Malinari apprised us, "These men are not like Nathan. They are like infants, with little or no knowledge of what they are about! Those on the outside - the soldiers - they have weapons. When we strike, we take them out first. Kill the m with dispatch. They barely outnumber us and shouldn't be a problem; this time the advantage of surprise is on our side. As for the central body: these are the minds behind the muscle ...

puny things by my reckoning, and not a mentalist among them. So be it; they are weaklings and we must take them alive for questioning. Now make ready - in the next few seconds your destiny may change beyond all recognition!"

'Which of course it did.

'I cannot describe what next took place as "a battle", nor even a rout, for none of our victims had time to flee! Surprise was indeed on our side, and add to this our flowing, lightning-strike speed, an d our vampire strength, equal i n each of us to that of four or five strong men ... the result was overwhelming. h.e.l.l-landers they were, but they had never seen h.e.l.l such as we delivered that night.

'There was some gunfire, soon silenced. We lost a lieutenant and three thralls. The h.e.l.l-landers lost everything - their so- called "fighting men", anyway. As for the two on their "motorcycles", when they returned to see what was the trouble, and having seen it didn't stop but headed out onto the barren boulder plains: We picked them off later.

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'The freshly dead were carried back to fuel our vats, the living * were taken for questioning by Malinari. I can't honestly say which group was least fortunate, the living or the dead ... the living, I suspect. In the long run it would make no difference; the one group would join the other.

'What my master learned, however - ah, but that made a big difference! Sufficient to excite Malinari and his Wamphyri colleagues beyond measure. And for me, it was the beginning of the end .. .'

Korath had fallen silent for a while. When next he spoke it was similar to a sigh in Jake Cutter's sleeping mind, and deadspeak in the metaphysical Harry Keogh's: The rest you know. In a while, when Malinari had extracted and a.s.similated all he could of knowledge from the minds of the "scientists" and their military leader, it was time to take our leave ofStarside.

Before doing so, The Mind, Vavara, and Szwart made a great many lieutenants; they took them down into undeath, and brought them up again as burgeoning Wamphyri! And they divided between them all the remaining thr alls, flyers and waxing warriors, and all territorial holdings, provisions, and so forth.

It was done for spite, out of malice; if the three Great Vampires could not have Sunside/Starsidefor their own, then n either could Nathan and the Lidescis, nor the Szgany as a people - not without they Jightfor it for long and long, and pay for it in blood. And so you may be sure that even now there are new Lords in Starside, while in Sunside the bloodJlows as of yore ...

Finally Korath was done, and Harry said, From all you have told us, your lot was not a happy one. And your end was unfair, to say the least. I am glad you finally agree! said the dead vampire. But: -From what you have told us, at least, said Harry. But I am more concerned with what you haven't toM us, which is probably more important than all the rest put together. The Wamphyri have been here in our world for some time, but it would seem they've achieved very little. What are they up to, Korath? What is their plan? You were one of theirs, and so you must know.

Ahhhh! said the other slyly, in a tone that suggested the shake of an incorp oreal head. And so to the crux of the matter. But no, what you ask is for me to know and for you to discover, or to guess at for a long, long time, until it is too late. For after all, it is my only remaining bargaining point- the last trick up a poor dead thing's sleeve. And when you have that, I shall have nothing at all 'Bargaining point?'

said Jake, just a little surprised by his own voice, after keeping so long silent. 'But you're a dead thing! What can you possibly bargain for - what can we give you - apart from a little companionship, a little cold comfort?'

Well, that might be a start...

But the ex-Necroscope intervened and said: You have already had that, companionship and cold comfort, and probably too much of both. It isn't a healthy thing to spend too much time in the company of vampires. No, there's no bargain you can strike here, Korath Mindsthrall. Also, I sense that your will is strong.

You are dead, but your tenacity is very much alive! Jake, it's time we were having.

'I thought you'd never get to it,' Jake answered.

/ only hope you remember some of this, said Harry.

Tm still not a hundred per cent sure I want to,' Jake vacillated.

Well, get sure! said Harry, his fading deadspeak voice frustrated and angry. Your entire world depends upon it. And if you can't remember anything else, do try to remember this: An incredible wall of numbers - like a computer screen run riot- evolved in the eye of Jake's mind, its symbols and equations marching and mutating until they reached a certain critical point... and formed a door. A Mobius door! And Jake knew without knowing how that all that remained of Harry was pa.s.sing through it, moving on to another place, perhaps another time.

'I ... I'm supposed to remember that?' he said, as the door collapsed and left hi m on his own in the dank and gurgling sump of th e once-Refuge. On his own, but not quite alone. For: Do not concern yourself, Jake Cutter, Korath MmdsthraU's leering deadspeak voice came to him out of the sudden inky darkness that enveloped him and the sump and everything, a darkness that was prelude to the light of the waking world.

No, for I am sure that we'll be able to work something out- -Er, between us?

Jake made no reply, or if he did it was left behind as he went spiralling up and up to the waiting light...

360.

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CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.

Synchronicity Liz was leaning over him again. 'Remember what?' she said.

'E.

h?' Jake b linked sleep out of his eyes, groped to brush grit from their corners.

'You were rambling on about having to remember something,'

she told him. And while he was ordering his thoughts to frame a reply, she quickly went on: 'And before you ask - no, I wasn't snooping on you. I came back here to give you a shake; you were mumbling, and I thought you were speaking to me.'

Well, he hadn't been, but he had been speaking to someone.

Harry? Korath? But who the h.e.l.l was Korath? The name, so familiar one minute, was already meaningless, slipping from the edge of his mind. So that now, just a moment later, Jake wasn't sure it meant anything at all.

Well, get sure!... get sure!... get sure! (Like an echo, fading in his memory.) And numbers - a swirl of numbers, equations, symbols, like a mathematician's nightmare - all collapsing to a big Zero, nothing, where before they had meant something.

'Numbers/' Jake croaked, forcing the word out of his dehydrated throat. Liz handed him a can of c.o.ke that she was drinking from, and he sat up and swilled his mouth out, then let the fizzing liquid burn and cool and sting all the way down.

'Numbers?' Liz repeated him. 'What about them?' Awake now, he frowned at her. 'Are you sure you weren't in there with me?' Then, seeing that look on her face: 'Okay, okay! Just checking.' He took another swig, climbed unsteadily to his feet. 'I think I was dreaming about - h.e.l.l, I don't know - all sorts of stuff He looked at his boots, then stooped to touch the bottoms of his jeans and wondered why he thought they might be wet. 'I can't remember. A damp place? Voices?

Numbers?'

But Liz only shrugged. 'You tell me,' she said, and turned away so that he wouldn't see the look she flashed at the others up front. And over her shoulder she told him, 'We're on our way down. Brisbane next stop.'

Ben Trask, Lardis, Goodly and the others were looking at Jake where he worked the stiffness from his joints and followed Liz to her gunner's chair. As she strapped herself in, he indicated the gun ports and asked: 'Is it okay to open one of these up?

And which side is Brisbane?'

One of the technicians answered him: 'Sure - you can open the doors. But you better hook yourself up first. Brisbane's to port.' There were safety straps dangling from the ceiling. Jake pulled one down, hooked it to his belt, jerked on the port-side door's handle, and slid the door open. Air blasted in, the downdraught from the big fan, and immediately the whup, whup, whup of the rotors was a deafening throb.

Liz hooked up, joined him at the door. 'Have you been here before?' she inquired, but her words were whipped away. It made no difference; he 'heard' her anyway. And answered: No, I haven't. And you're getting good at that.

She only looked at him and said, But I'm not a natural - not at sending, not yet anyway - so maybe you're the one who's getting good at it.

No. He shook his head to give his thoughts emphasis. It's all you, Liz. It's your talent, getting stronger all the time. And maybe some kind of rapport we seem to be developing. Which was the closest he had yet come to admitting any kind of serio us involvement.

Their eyes met, locked just for a moment, and each of them knew that the same thought was in the other's mind: that out of the blue Jake was accepting telepathy that much easier - as if 362.

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he'd been getting in some practice. And they both knew where he had been getting it. It was as he'd explained to Lardis: sleep, the subconscious mind, was a strange thing. And dreams could be stranger yet. Sometimes they could even be more than dreams.

Then they looked down on a small airfield six hundred feet directly below them, and, two or three miles to the east, central Brisbane.

Brisbane was big and sprawling, but it didn't lack order. On the contrary, for if anything it was too symmet rical, ultra-modern. Its streets were too broad, with too many parks, pools, green areas. It should have looked as cool and fresh as an oasis, which in all this heat, when even the downdraught of the rotors felt as h ot as h.e.l.l, would have seemed very welcoming. But the river, instead of being a fat, winding silver eel, was more a thin, snakelike whiplash. Most of the pools were empty down to their liners, and all of the green places had yellow tints.

Jake frowned and might have commented, but the horizon was rapidly narrowing down. As they watched, Brisbane came up level, finally disappearing behind the airport buildings. And just a moment or two later they b.u.mped down.

When the rotors went into braking mode, their whine became unbearable.

Grimacing, Jake slammed the door to shut it out...

The small airport - more an airstrip, really - belonged to a private flying club for well-to-do members of Brisbane society. The choppe r's pilot had been directed to it by air traffic co ntrol, who in turn had taken their orders from higher authority. It might seem odd if a paramilitary jet-copter was seen to land at a main international airport...

especially carrying the E-Branch contingent, whose members were by now beginning to look something less than reputable.

Trask had radioed ahead before decamping on the other side of the continent; discreet arrangements had been made while the chopper was still in the air. Met by a pair of clean-cut, immaculately-uniformed 'chauffeurs,' the drivers of limos with one-way-gla.s.s windows, Trask and his people were soon on their way into the city.

As they left the airport, heading for a main arterial road, they pa.s.sed a small parking lot. Sitting on the hood of a battered blue-grey Range Rover-styled vehicle, a tall, angular male figure in jeans, open-necked shirt and broad-brimmed hat gazed intently into the sky over the airport through a pair of binoculars. With his hat shading his face, his features were blankly anonymous under the brilliance of the mid-afternoon sunlight.

Except to Liz, there seemed nothing special about him. Liz had noticed him. She'd seen how, at the last minute, before the car threw up a screen of dust in their wake, the man had turned his binoculars on the two vehicles. Now, with a frown, she tapped Trask on the shoulder where he sat in front of her.

'That man back there/ she said, hurriedly. They were negotiating a bend and the parking lot was already disappearing in the driver's rearview. Trask turned his head, looked back where Liz wa s indica ting; he saw nothing but a dust-plume and a distant shimmer of heat-haze.

'A man?' he said. 'What about him?'

The intercom was on, and the chauffeur - a special agent - asked, 'Something suspicious, miss? A man, did you say? Back there? What was he doing?'

'Sitting on a car,' Liz answered. 'He was watching the sky through binoculars.'

'A plane-spotter?' Through the plate-gla.s.s screen that divided them, they saw the driver shrug. 'A wannabe fly-boy member of the club. Hull Some hope. Flying is for rich folks.'

But Liz leaned forward and quietly, right in Trask's ear, said, 'The last thing I saw, he was looking at us.'

They were turning onto the main road and picking up speed. 'Let it go,'

Trask told her. 'It may have been nothing, and in any case it's too late now. If we've been made we've been made. But 364.

365.

if we've been made, then obviously someone was sent to make us - sent by someone. Now all we have to do is find out who and where.'

Liz nodded, said: 'A nd ... he was wondering about us.'

'That's all you got?'

'Yes.' Trask shrugged, but not negligently. 'Maybe he was simply curious. But by the same token maybe this wasn't as discreet as it might have been. Two chauffeur- driven limos, doing reception at a small, private airport? I mean, turn the situation around and I might be curious myself. Do you think you'd recognize him again?'

'Probably,' she answered. 'There was something unpleasant, spidery about him.'

'Well, if you do see him let me know,' said Trask. 'Once is coincidence. Twice ... this spider might need stepping on.' And the cars sped for the near-distant city ...

Back at the parking lot, the long thin man got into his car and called a number on his portaphone. A disinterested female voice said, 'Xanadu, reception?'

'I want to speak to Milan, ' the thin man told her.

There was a pause and she said, 'Your identification?' Now she was a little more animated.

'Mind your b usiness/ the thin man replied, with the emphasis on 'mind', but with nothing of rebuke or unpleasantness in his voice. It was simply a code.

'Just a moment, sir,' said the girl. And the phone played some indifferent Musak.

While he waited, the thin man coughed to clear his throat, mopped sweat from his brow, got his thoughts in order. His employer - Mr Milan, to whom he was about to make report - had a liking for ordered minds; he much preferred to hear and understand things clearly and precisely the first time around. And in a little while: 'Milan speaking/ a deep, accented, seemingly cultured yet vaguely threatening male voice replaced the Musak. 'What do you want?'

And the thin man told his employer what he had seen of the jet- copter, gave him brief descriptions of the people he'd seen getting into limos outside the flying club's main building, and closed by saying: 'They drove off towards Brisbane.'

There was a brief pause before the other queried: 'And you didn't follow them?'