‘OK,’ said Harry. ‘And afterwards? Will you come back here or what? The thing is, I could use some help on this serial killer thing. And we can use my place in Bonnyrig as a base. For the time being, anyway. That way we’ll be able to spell each other watching out for the watchers. And when this task I’ve set myself is done, then, before I leave – I mean before I really leave everything – we’ll find a way to square it with E-Branch and put your own record straight.’
That all sounds good to me.’ Jordan breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Just say the word, Harry, and I’m your man.’
The other nodded. ‘The word is we go and see Darcy. He’s single, isn’t he, like most of you espers? I know he used to live in Hoddesdon; is he still there? And will he be on his own, or is there a woman? Darcy isn’t likely to buckle under a shock or two, I’m sure, but I don’t want to go scaring any women.’
Jordan shook his head. ‘No woman that I know of. Darcy’s been married to the job too long. But he’s not in Hoddesdon any more. He got himself a house in Crouch End, just a mile or two away. A nice place with a garden in Haslemere Road. Only been there a couple of weeks. He moved in right after the Greek job.’
Again Harry’s nod. ‘I don’t know the area but you can show it to me. Is there anything you want to take with you?’
‘My suitcase is already packed.’
Then we can go right now.’
‘At 4:20 in the morning? If you say so. I don’t have a car, though, so we either walk it or I’ll need to call a – ‘ But Jordan knew his mistake at once, as soon as he saw Harry’s strange wan smile.
‘A taxi’s not necessary,’ the Necroscope told him. ‘I have my own transport . . .’
Darcy Clarke was still up, pacing the floor as he’d paced it all night. It wasn’t his talent that was bothering him – he himself wasn’t in any danger – he was just worried about the Branch and the job he suspected was being planned right now, at this very moment. About that, and about Harry Keogh. But in fact the two were one and the same thing.
The ground-floor lights of Clarke’s house were bright behind a facade of shrubs and trees as Harry guided Jordan out through a Möbius exit and back into the real world. ‘You can open your eyes now,’ he told the telepath as Jordan staggered under the briefly suspended, now renewed, pull of gravity. It was like the feeling in the pit of your stomach when an elevator descends to the level you want and jerks to a halt there, except this elevator had no walls, floor or ceiling and you ‘fell’ in every direction at once. Which was why Harry had asked Jordan to close his eyes a moment.
‘My God!’ Jordan whispered, swaying a little as he looked all around at the night street.
Harry thought: God? The Möbius Continuum? Well, and you could be right. August Ferdinand thinks so, anyway! He steadied the telepath and said, ‘I know. It’s a weird sensation, isn’t it?’
Jordan looked at Harry and felt himself in awe of him. He talked about the immundane, the utterly unbelievable, as if it were merely odd. But finally Jordan gathered his senses to say, ‘Nice shot, Harry. That’s Darcy’s place right there.’
They let themselves in through the garden gate and walked up a path between the shrubs. The glowing white globe of a lamp drew a cloud of moths where it hung like a small moon over the front door. Harry directed Jordan to stand to one side, put on his dark glasses and pushed the doorbell; in a little while footsteps sounded from within.
The door was equipped with a peephole lens; Clarke used it and saw Harry standing on his doorstep, staring right at him. His talent made no objection as he opened the door, which told him a lot. ‘Harry!’ he said. ‘Come in, come in!’