It was Paul Savinkov, puffing and panting from his exertions, his fat hands fluttering.
‘What is it, Paul?’ Khuv brushed sleep from the corners of his eyes.
‘We’re not sure, Major. But . . . Nik Slepak and I – ‘
Khuv came fully awake on the instant. Savinkov and Slepak were both ESP-sensitives; they could detect and recognize foreign telepathic sendings, psychic emanations, anything of a paranormal nature. And in the event of ESPionage, they were adept at intercepting and scrambling alien probes.
‘What is it, Paul?’ Khuv demanded this time. ‘Are they spying on us again?’
Savinkov gulped. ‘It could be worse than that,’ he said. ‘We think … we think something is here!’
Khuv’s jaw dropped. ‘You think something is – ?’ he grabbed the other’s arm. ‘Something from the Gate, do you mean?’
Savinkov shook his head. His fat face was shiny, eyes very bright. ‘No, not from the Gate. Those things that come through the Gate, they leave a slimy trail in the mind. They’re alien – to this world, I mean. This thing we can sense here, it isn’t that sort of alien. It might even be a man; Nik Slepak thinks so. But it – he, whatever – has no right to be here. Two things we’re sure of: whatever it is, it’s powerful! And it is here.’
‘Where?’ Khuv threw back the top half of his dressing-gown, thrust his left arm through the leather loop of a shoulder-holster hanging from a peg inside the door. The holster contained Khuv’s KGB-issue automatic. Belting his dressing-gown savagely about his waist, he shoved Savinkov ahead of him down the exterior corridor.
‘Where?’ he shouted now. ‘What, are you deaf as well as queer? Has Slepak also been struck dumb?’
‘We don’t know where, Major,’ the fat esper gasped. ‘We’ve got our locator on it, Leo Grenzel.’ As he stuttered his apologies, so Slepak and Grenzel came hurrying round the bend of the corridor. They saw Khuv and Savinkov, hurried to meet them.
‘Well?’ said Khuv to Grenzel, a small, sharp-featured East German.
‘Encounter Three,’ Grenzel whispered. His eyes were an incredibly deep grey and very large in his small face. Never larger than right now.
Khuv frowned at him. ‘The thing in the glass tank? What about it?’
That’s where he is,’ Grenzel nodded. His face was pale, strangely serene, like the mask of a sleep-walker. His talent affected him that way.
Khuv turned sharply to Savinkov. ‘You – hurry, get Vasily Agursky.’ Savinkov made off down the corridor. ‘I said hurry.’ Khuv called after him. ‘Meet us in the room of the creature, and make sure you’re both armed!’
Harry had listened to Kazimir’s grim tale. He now knew about the fate of the old man’s family, especially Tassi. He knew a little about Chingiz Khuv, too, about his espers and handful of KGB thugs; but he still didn’t know the Projekt’s secret, which lay in the heart of the place.
Kazimir had not been privy to that, had no knowledge of it.
‘This . . . thing,’ said Harry. ‘Do you know what it is?’ No, only that it’s horrible! Kazimir answered in Harry’s mind. ‘It’s a vampire,’ Harry told him. ‘At least, I think it is.
And you don’t know how it got here? Was it perhaps made here?’
/ know nothing about it.
Harry nodded, chewed his lip. ‘About your daughter: do you know where she is? Show me a plan of this place in your mind. Or as much as you know of it.’
Kazimir was glad to co-operate, said: She was in the cell next to mine.
Again Harry’s nod, and: ‘Kazimir, you have my word that if I can find her, I’ll take her out of this. More than that, if I can find her mother I’ll reunite them in a safe place.’
The old man’s mental sigh of relief was almost audible. If you can do that, then it’s enough. Don’t worry about me.
‘But I do. Kazimir, this thing isn’t you. You were dead when it … when you . . . you were already dead.’
I feel part of it. I’m being absorbed by it.
Harry chewed harder on his lip. He’d seen the room’s equipment. He had a plan but wasn’t sure if it would work. ‘What if I could kill this thing? You can’t die twice, Kazimir.’