Necroscope by Brian Lumley

Tomorrow night – at the Chateau,’ said Vlady. ‘Some thing big, but I don’t know what it will be.’

Dragosani began to pace the floor, searched his own mind for clues. ‘KGB? Is it likely they’ll find Borowitz’s body that fast? I doubt it. Even if they did, why should they suspect the branch? Or me? After all, it will only have been a “heart attack”. That could happen to anyone. Or is it someone inside the branch itself? Maybe you, Igor, having second thoughts about your loyalties?’ (Vlady hastily shook his head in denial.) ‘Will it be sabotage?’ Dragosani continued to pace. ‘And if so what form of sabotage?’ He angrily shook his head. ‘No, no, I can’t see that! Damn it, come on, Igor you know more than you’re saying! What is it, exactly, that you’ve seen?’

‘You don’t seem to understand!’ Vlady shouted. ‘Man, I’m not superhuman. I can’t be exact all the time!’ It was true and Dragosani knew it; Vlady’s voice betrayed his own exasperation; he, too, wished he had an answer. ‘Sometimes things are very vague – like that time when Andrei Ustinov got his. I knew there would be a ruckus that night and warned Borowitz about it, but I couldn’t for the life of me say who or what would be involved! It’s the same this time, too. There’ll be big trouble tomorrow and you’ll be right in the middle of it. It will come from outside and it will be … big trouble! Of that much I’m certain, but that’s all.’

‘Not quite all,’ said Dragosani, ominously. ‘I still don’t know what you meant by “odd”. Why do you avoid the issue? Will I be in any danger?’

‘Yes,’ said Vlady, ‘a great deal of danger. And not just you but everyone at the Chateau.’

‘Damn it, man!’ Dragosani slammed his fist down on the table. ‘You make it sound like we’ll all be dead men!’

Vlady’s face slowly lost some of its dark colour. He half turned his face away but Dragosani leaned over him, clasped his cheeks in the fingers of one great hand, drew his averted face and the O-shape of his quivering mouth back towards him. He looked deep into the other’s frightened eyes. ‘Are you quite sure you’ve told me everything?’ he asked, forming his words slowly and very carefully. ‘Can you not at least try to explain what you meant by your use of the word “odd”? Is there a chance, perhaps, that you’ve also foreseen my death for tomorrow?’

Vlady jerked his face free and pushed back in his chair away from Dragosani. The white pressure marks of the other’s fingers faded on his cheeks, were replaced by a dark pink flush. Dragosani was capable of murder beyond a doubt. Vlady must at least try to satisfy his demands. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘and I’ll explain as best I can. After that . . . you must make what you will of it.

‘When I look at a man – when I try to see into his future – I normally detect a straight blue line extending forward. Like a line drawn down a sheet of paper from top to bottom. Call it his line of life, if you wish. From the length of this line I can work out the length of the man’s life. From kinks and deviations which occur in it, I can determine something of future occurrences and how they will affect him. Borowitz’s line ends tomorrow. At the end there is a kink which indicates a physical malfunction: his heart attack. As to how I know you will be involved: it is simply that at the end your life-line crosses his – and goes on alone!’

‘But for how long?’ Dragosani demanded to know.

‘What about tomorrow night, Igor? Is that where my line ends?’

Vlady shivered. ‘Your line is entirely different,’ he finally answered. ‘I hardly know how to read it at all. Some six months ago Borowitz demanded that I prepare weekly readings on you for his eyes only. I tried but . . . it was impossible. There were so many deviations in your line that I couldn’t read it with any degree of accuracy at all! Kinks and wriggles I’d never come across before. Also, as the months passed, what had started out as one line began to divide, to split into two parallel lines. The new one wasn’t blue but red, which was something else I had never seen before. As for the old, original line: it too slowly turned red. You are like . . . like twins, Dragosani. I know no other way to put it. And tomorrow -‘

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