The Source by Brian Lumley

‘Calm yourself, Karl,’ Khuv told him. ‘He’s looking for your measure, that’s all.’ And to Jazz: ‘He doesn’t mean that sort of target,’ he said. ‘Or rather he does, but not in the way you think. It’s simply that if anything – anything at all strange – comes out of that ball of light there, those crews have orders to open fire immediately and destroy, or try to destroy it. And those orders take absolutely no account of the fact that we happen to be standing here, right in the arc of fire.’

‘But if it did happen,’ Vyotsky added, ‘and if what could come through did, then I personally would be glad to stop a bullet!’

Khuv gave a little shiver, said, ‘Let’s get out of here. Karl is quite right: we are stupid to stand here tempting fate. It has happened five times before, and there’s no guarantee it won’t happen again.’

As they turned away and headed back toward the stairs, Jazz asked, ‘Do you have it on film? I mean, if it’s a regular occurrence – ‘

‘Not regular,’ Khuv corrected him. ‘Five – shall we call them, “emergences” – in two years can hardly be called frequent. But I take your point. Oh, yes, Michael, we learned our lessons quickly. After the first two encounters we fitted cameras, and now there are also cameras mounted on these guns. They are triggered when the weapons themselves are triggered. What the gunners see, the cameras capture – on film, anyway. As for the thing your side has code-named “Pill”: that was the first. Nobody here was ready for it. The second one was smaller, but we weren’t ready for that, either. After that the cameras were put in.’

‘Any chance of seeing what we’re talking about?’ Jazz might as well go for broke; there was little or no chance of him getting out of here, but still he’d try to discover what he could of this mess if only on the off-chance.

‘Certainly,’ said Khuv without hesitation. ‘But if you prefer I can show you something far more interesting than mere films.’ There was something about the way he said it that warned Jazz to be careful, but nevertheless he answered:

‘Well, by all means, let’s keep me interested.’

Vyotsky’s grimly sardonic chuckle sounding from behind made him wonder if he’d made the right choice . . .

They went back up through the quiet but disquieting magmass levels to the perimeter, and along it to the secure area which housed the Projekt’s laboratories. Passing through two guarded security doors, they arrived finally at a steel door bearing a stencilled scarlet skull and the stark warning:

CAUTION!

KEEPER AND SECURITY

CLASSIFIED PERSONS

ONLY!

Jazz couldn’t help but think: more melodramatics? But Khuv and Vyotsky had gone very quiet, and perhaps it would be as well if he followed suit. He held his tongue, wondered about the word ‘keeper’. Keeper of what?

Khuv had a plastic ID tag which he inserted in a slot in the door. The card was accepted, ‘read’ and given back; mechanisms whirred and the door opened with a click. Before pushing it all the way open, Khuv motioned to Vyotsky who turned down the lights in the anteroom. As the lights dimmed Jazz noticed Vyotsky’s face: it was pale and shiny with cold sweat. Also, his Adam’s apple bobbed noticeably. There could be little doubt that the big Russian was both hard and cruel, but it seemed there were some things that could get to him. It also appeared that Jazz was about to meet one of them.

Khuv, though, was cool as ever. Now he pushed the heavy door open and motioned Jazz through it. With some misgivings, the British agent stepped inside the dark room. Vyotsky followed close behind him, and Khuv came last, closing the door after him.

The darkness was almost complete: only a series of small red lights the size of flashlight bulbs glowed in the ceiling. Revealed by their dim glow, the rectangular shape of a glass case stood against one wall like a huge tropical fish tank. Khuv’s voice came soft out of the darkness. ‘Are you ready, Michael?’

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