The Source by Brian Lumley

Khuv had barely arrived at the scene of that one when he was called on the double to the telepath Paul Savin-kov’s room. The door, a light-weight timber frame with a thin metal skin, had a fist-sized hole in it and was hanging half-wrenched from its hinges. Inside was Savinkov, crumpled in a corner like a discarded doll and hideously broken. Although the snapping of his bones must have sounded out like a series of gunshots, apparently no one had heard a thing.

But at least this time it was seen how the murderer was wily as well as immensely strong and brutal. The cable to Savinkov’s telephone had been cut outside his room in the corridor. The killer had been taking no chances that he might try to summon help. Which seemed to prove Vasily Agursky’s theory: the murders were the work of a powerful, cunning madman, or at least a human being.

By then, however, it had been time for Khuv to prepare himself for his duty at Failsafe Control. He’d left Gustav Litve in charge of the new cases and gone to change into clothes suitable for the long shift ahead. And now that shift was about to commence.

Approaching Failsafe Control, Khuv and his men heard footsteps behind them, turned on their heels to see Gustav Litve coming at a run. White-faced, he was thrusting a sheet of paper before him, waving it at Khuv. ‘Comrade Major,’ he gasped, drawing close. ‘This is it! I found it stuffed down the back of Savinkov’s chair.’

The paper was a little crumpled; Khuv smoothed it against the wall, saw shaky lines written in pencil. They said:

I’ve been checking all the staff one by one. I would have done it sooner, but Andrei Roborov saw it with his own eyes and what he saw wasn’t human. So I thought it must be something from the Gate, something we’d missed. Then I thought: how is it that with all these espers we can’t find the intruder? Maybe it was shielding itself psychically; maybe it was hiding behind its own mind-screens! But if it could do that, then I should be able to detect the shields. Grenzel would be proud of me: I found it! He would have done it better, of course – which is why it stopped him! How I did it: I found an area where there were no telepathic readings, where there was powerful psychic interference. It was the mortuary. I checked to be double sure, and found I’d been wrong. But then I got the same sort of reading in the accommodation area – in the scientific section. I narrowed it down. It’s Agursky! He keeps the bodies in the mortuary. He must have been in there when I checked the place the first time. And he was in his room when I went there a few minutes ago. I managed to contact his mind – and I think he recognized me! But be sure, he’s the thing that Roborov saw! My telephone is out of order. I think there’s someone outside. If I listen at the

The note stopped right there. Khuv read it again, his eyes wide, skipping over the words. Something of the meaning of the thing sank in and he felt the short hairs stiffen at the back of his neck. His blood seemed to turn to ice in his veins; but he forced himself to leap toward the heavy metal door of Failsafe Control and hammer on it, yelling:

‘Viktor, open up for God’s sake!’

Direktor Luchov was on duty. Red-eyed, he came to the door and opened it, was bowled backwards as Khuv burst in. ‘What in the name of- ?’

‘Read this!’ said Khuv, thrusting Savinkov’s note at him. ‘It’s something of a dying declaration. Things are beginning to add up, making a monstrous sort of sense. Savinkov seems to be saying that there’s a connection between Vasily Agursky and the thing he kept in that tank of his. I still don’t know what it’s all about, but I’m damned well going to find out! Now listen, Viktor: get on the phone. Let’s have no alarms, for that would only alert him, but I want everyone looking for Agursky. God, I’ve known there was something weird about him for weeks, ever since . . . since . . .’

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