And Luchov, shouted down, had returned to his rooms and commenced to write a furious, comprehensive report on Khuv’s suspected activities and his rank insubordination.
Meanwhile:
For the last five minutes Harry Keogh had been making a nuisance of himself. First he’d appeared outside the Projekt, on the patrolled ramp cut into the Perchorsk ravine’s wall, where he’d taken a half-hearted pot shot at a guard. He hadn’t attempted to hit the man, for he’d need serious reasons before sending yet another human being to join the Great Majority. Before the soldier could fire back at him, Harry had ducked into the cover of darkly swirling snow – and through a Mobius door.
From there he’d returned to the room of the thing. Emerging there, he’d been ready on the instant to return into the Mobius Continuum. But the room was empty and so he’d simply gone to the locked door and banged on it, shouting to be let out. The guard outside the room had responded to this, of course, and moments later so had the alarm system.
Tassi Kirescu’s cell had been next; Harry emerged amidst a handful of baffled espers, struck two of them rapid, stunning blows, retreated to the Mobius Continuum. Behind him he left Leo Grenzel and Nik Slepak groaning on the floor, and others white-faced and wide-eyed, astonished by what they’d seen and felt. Grenzel was still feeling it, and not just the two front teeth Harry had loosened.
That’s him!’ he gurgled, sitting up and spitting blood. That’s him!’
Khuv was heading for KGB accommodation when the klaxons began to sound again. He cursed, put on speed. Coming through a door between sections of the corridor, he ran into Harry Keogh. He knew him at once – or thought he did. Khuv had a good memory; he’d seen photographs of this man: a one-time head of British E-Branch – Alec Kyle!
Harry pressed his Browning up under Khuv’s chin, said: ‘I can see by the look on your face that you know me. Which puts me at a disadvantage – but let me guess anyway. Major Chingiz Khuv?’
Khuv gulped, nodded, shoved his hands high in the air.
‘Major, you’re in the wrong business,’ Harry pressed harder with his gun. Take some good advice and get out while the going’s good. And pray you never see me again.’ He stepped back away from Khuv, looked for a door.
In the moment of Harry’s distraction, Khuv snatched his own gun from its holster, triggered off a shot. Harry felt the bullet buzz past his face like an angry wasp to speed forever through the Mobius Continuum. Then Khuv and the corridor blinked out of existence and he headed for somewhere else.
He emerged in a military Duty Room situated just inside the Projekt’s service bays, put the muzzle of his pistol in the Orderly Sergeant’s ear where he sat at his desk and ordered him to tell him the way to Direktor Luchov’s quarters. The terrified Sergeant showed him what he wanted to know on a wall chart, a diagram of the Perchorsk complex, and Harry rewarded him with a chop to the neck that would keep him out of things for at least half an hour. Then he was on the move again.
Harry’s ‘smoke screen’ was now established. It was 5:22 a.m. precisely, local time, when he materialized in Viktor Luchov’s claustrophobic suite of rooms. Luchov was on the phone, demanding to know what this fresh spate of clamouring alarms was all about, when Harry arrived. His back was to Harry, who let him finish his conversation and slam the telephone down before he spoke:
‘Direktor Luchov? I’m what those alarms are all about.’ He pointed his automatic at Luchov’s heart, said: ‘Better sit down.’
Luchov, whirling from the telephone, saw Harry, his gun and where it was pointed, in that order. He staggered as if he’d been struck in the temple. ‘What – ? Who – ?’
‘Who doesn’t matter,’ Harry told him. ‘And what is what I’m here to find out.’
‘Khuv’s intruder!’ Luchov finally gasped. ‘I thought it was all part of some elaborate scheme of his.’
‘Sit,’ Harry said again, waving his gun toward a chair.