It was a relief to know that such minds were in the minority; otherwise the Necroscope might be tempted to declare war on the entire human race, right now!
But Paxton knew he’d been in: he’d felt Harry in there, like slivers of ice in his mind. He started imitating a fish again.
‘So now you know for sure,’ said Harry. ‘And now you’ll report to your boss. Well, you go and tell the Minister that his worst nightmare has come true, Paxton. Tell him that, and then quit. Get out and stay out. I know you don’t warn too easily, but this time take some good advice and run while you can. I won’t be warning you again.’
And while that sank in he released the other, released him violently, tossed him back and over the lip of the riverbank, and down into the gently swirling water.
It was only then that the Necroscope saw Paxton’s briefcase lying open on a tree stump close by. Several white junk-mail envelopes – and one large manila envelope – were like magnets to his eyes. They were addressed to Harry Keogh, No. 3 The Riverside, etc, etc.
Harry glared once more at the floundering esper where he gagged, gurgled and splashed in the cold river water beyond his reach – for the moment just out of harm’s way – then snatched up his mail and took it home with him.
Paxton could swim, which was as well. For the Necroscope didn’t much care one way or the other . . .
6
Red Alert!
Harry flipped quickly through the murder files, discovered the young prostitute’s name, home town and place of interment, and made his way at once to her graveside in a small cemetery on the northern outskirts of Newcastle. And the Necroscope had moved so quickly that as he seated himself in the shade of a tree close by Pamela Trotter’s simple headstone, so Paxton was still catching his breath where he’d dragged himself up on to the river bank a hundred miles away.
‘Pamela,’ said the Necroscope, ‘I’m Harry Keogh. I believe my mother might have mentioned my name to you.’
Your mother and others, she came back at once. I’ve been expecting you, Harry – and I’ve been warned off you, too!
Harry nodded, perhaps ruefully. ‘My reputation has suffered a bit lately, it’s true.’
Mine suffered a lot, she chuckled. For nearly six years, in fact, ever since I was fourteen and a nice ‘uncle’ showed me his little pink sprinkler and told me where it went. Actually, I seduced him, for I’d noticed that whenever he was near me he had a hard on. But if it hadn’t been him it would have been someone else, because I was just naturally like that. We played around a lot until his old lady caught us at it one day, the jealous old bat! I was going bouncy-bouncy on him when she walked in. He whipped it out but was too far gone and spurted on the carpet. I don’t think she’d seen him spurt for a long time, and she’d certainly never had it like that! Come to think of it, I don’t think he had either. Not before me. But I liked it all ways. It helps when you enjoy your work.
Harry was silent for a moment, surprised, even a little taken aback. He really didn’t know how to answer her.
Didn’t your Ma tell you I was a tart, a trollop, a whore? There was no bitterness in her, not even much of sadness, and Harry liked her for it.
‘Something like that,’ he answered, eventually. ‘Not that I think it matters a great deal. There have to be a hell of a lot of you down there by now!’
She laughed and Harry liked her even more. The oldest profession, she said.
‘But one night, nearly eight weeks ago, it caught up with you, right?’ He felt that with her he could get right to it.
Her assumed indifference fell away from her at once. That wasn’t why it happened, she said. I didn’t fetch him on. And anyway he didn’t want me … like that.