The Source by Brian Lumley

Savinkov went.

Khuv ushered the espers out into the corridor and closed Roborov’s door. Viktor Luchov had just arrived, looked bewildered, only half-awake. ‘Don’t go in there,’ Khuv warned him, shaking his head. Luchov took one look at the KGB officer’s face and was sensible enough to take heed.

‘But what’s happened?’

‘Murder – at least I think so.’

‘But don’t you know?’ Luchov gaped.

‘I know two people are dead, and if their killer is human, then it’s murder.’

Luchov was waking up quickly. ‘Is it that bad? Have you checked with Fail – ‘

‘Yes,’ Khuv cut him short. To both questions.’

‘But -‘

‘No buts,’ Khuv interrupted again. ‘If it’s something from the Gate, then it’s invisible.’

At that moment Litve returned with Agursky. Khuv’s eyes went straight to the tiny scientist. Except . . . Agursky hardly seemed that small any more. He slumped a little, yes, but if he were to stand up straight . . .

Agursky had on his night things with a dressing-gown thrown over them. And he was wearing dark spectacles. ‘Something wrong with your eyes?’ Khuv frowned.

‘Eh?’ Agursky squinted, peered at the Major through tinted lenses. ‘Oh, yes. It comes on now and then. Photophobia. It’s with being down here, out of the natural light. All this artificial lighting.’

Khuv nodded. He had more than enough with which to concern himself without worrying about Agursky’s weird-ness. ‘In there,’ he nodded, indicating the door to Roborov’s room. ‘Two dead men.’

Agursky seemed hardly concerned. He opened the door, made to go in. Khuv caught his arm, felt the tension in him. Strange, because it hadn’t shown in his movements or his mannerisms. ‘I want you to tell me what killed them, if you can. Give me some sort of idea, anyway. Gustav, go in there with him.’

While they were inside the room, Khuv told Luchov all he knew. Impossible to work if the Projekt Direktor was going to be prying into everything. Better to put him firmly in the picture right now, from square one. By the time he was through, Litve and Agursky had come back out of the room. Litve was still very pale; Agursky seemed his usual self.

‘Any ideas?’ Khuv asked him.

The other shook his head, averted his eyes. ‘Something terrifically strong. Immensely strong. A beast, certainly.’

‘Beast?’ Luchov blurted.

Agursky glanced at him. ‘In a way of speaking, Direktor, yes. A human beast. A murderer. But as I said, a very large, very strong man.’

Khuv said: ‘And the teeth marks in Roborov’s skull?’

‘No,’ Agursky shook his head. ‘His skull was smashed in with a hammer or something very similar. Yes, something like a small-pane hammer. But wielded with considerable force.’

Remembering that garbage Savinkov had spewed out, Khuv scowled. ‘But I have an esper,’ he said, ‘Paul Savinkov, who says he “saw” the killer. And he says it was something nightmarish!’

Agursky had started to turn away, but now he slowly turned back. ‘He saw this happen, you say?’

‘In his mind, yes.’

‘Ah!’ Agursky nodded his understanding. Then he smiled, shrugged half-apologetically. ‘Well, my science takes note of physical evidence only, Major. Metaphysics isn’t my scene. Will you be requiring me any more? I have many things to do now, and – ‘

‘Only one more thing,’ said Khuv. ‘Tell me, what did you do with the corpse of the dead creature from the tank?’

‘Do with it? I photographed it, studied it to the point of stripping it down to cartilage and bone, finally destroyed, burned it.’

‘Burned it?’

Agursky shrugged again. ‘Of course. It was from the Gate, after all. There was nothing else to be learned from it. And . . . best not to take chances with things like that, don’t you agree?’

Luchov patted him on the shoulder. ‘Of course, Vasily, of course we do. Thank you very much.’

‘If we do want you,’ Khuv called after him, ‘you’ll be hearing from me. But with any luck we won’t.’ To Luchov he said, ‘God, he gives me the creeps!’

“This whole place,’ Luchov muttered, ‘gives me the creeps!’

As Agursky went off, so Savinkov returned with Khuv’s KGB operatives. They’d had civil police training, and since this now appeared to be a case of routine murder . . .

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