He rang off. “That’s a first step, anyway. We’ll have to form a separate squad to deal with it. Which means, of course, that the press are bound to get wind of it sooner or later.”
Fallada said: “I’m not sure that would do any harm. Carlsen says that these creatures can’t destroy anyone without his own consent. If we emphasised that, it shouldn’t cause a panic. And we’d have public cooperation trying to track them down.”
“That’s true. But I don’t think it’s our decision. It would have to be taken at ministerial level.” The screen buzzed as he spoke. “Hello?”
“Hello, Sir Percy. Is Carlsen there?”
It was Bukovsky. Carlsen moved into camera range.
Heseltine said: “Would you like to take it next door?”
Bukovsky said: “No, it concerns you too. The P.M. wants to see us all at Downing Street as soon as possible. That includes Dr Fallada. There’s been another rather peculiar development. Could you get down there as soon as you can?”
“Me too?” Heseltine asked.
“He asked for you especially. See you as soon as you can make it.” He rang off.
Carlsen took another sandwich. “Not until I’ve finished my tea.”
Whitehall was crowded with office workers on their way home. The day had turned golden and tired, and the chill had returned to the air. Carlsen reflected that any one of these people could be an alien, and his frustration sharpened for a moment into pain.
A Rolls-Royce passed them at the corner of Downing Street. Carlsen recognised one of the men in the rear seat as Philip Rawlinson, the Home Secretary. He was climbing out as they arrived at Number Ten. Rawlinson said: “Ah, Heseltine, glad to see you here. Do you know Alex M’Kay, the Space Minister?” M’Kay was a short, bald man with a massive red moustache.
He looked at Carlsen from under raised eyebrows. “I recognise you. You’re the chap who started all the trouble, aren’t you?” When Carlsen smiled embarrassedly, M’Kay clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll sort it out.” Carlsen wished he shared his conviction.
Inside, a middle-aged but attractive secretary said: “The Prime Minister won’t keep you a moment. He’s on the telephone.”
“No, I’m not. Bring them up.” The bulky figure of Everard Jamieson appeared at the top of the stairs. “We’ll use the Cabinet Room.”
Jamieson was even taller than Carlsen. A journalist had once said he had the face of Abraham Lincoln, the voice of Winston Churchill, and the cunning of Lloyd George. When he shook hands, his grip was so powerful that it made Carlsen wince.
“Good of you to come, gentlemen. Please sit down.” He placed a hand on Fallada’s shoulder. “And unless I’m mistaken, you are the ingenious Dr Fallada, the man they call the Sherlock Holmes of pathology?” Fallada nodded without smiling, but the compliment obviously pleased him.
There was a tray with whisky and glasses in the centre of the Cabinet table. Without waiting to be asked, M’Kay helped himself.
Jamieson sat down at the head of the table. He lowered his head, frowning at the tabletop as if in deep meditation. There was an involuntary silence, broken only by the hiss of the soda syphon. A moment later, the secretary came in and placed a sheet of paper in front of each of them. Carlsen studied it closely, decided it was upside down, and turned it round. It appeared to be a map, and the outline was vaguely familiar. But the writing was in a script he had never seen.
“No sign of Bukovsky?” As Jamieson spoke, the door opened, and Bukovsky came in, followed by a fat man in rimless glasses. “Ah, there you are, Bukovsky. And that, unless I am mistaken, is Professor Schliermacher? How kind of you to come, Professor.”
Schliermacher blushed, made a rumbling noise in his throat, then said nervously: “It’s an honour, Prime Minister.”
Bukovsky sat down and began to clean his glasses. He saw the map. “Ah, you’ve got this already?”
“I had it sent from moonbase. Would you hand Dr Schliermacher a copy? Thank you.” He looked round the table and coughed to attract M’Kay’s attention; the Space Minister was mopping his brown with a handkerchief and staring out of the window. “Now, gentlemen, I think we’re all here. We can begin.” He turned to Carlsen. “So let me start with you, Commander. Do you know what that is?” He tapped the sheet of paper in front of him.
Carlsen said: “Is it a map of Greece?”
Jamieson turned to Schliermacher. “Well, is it, Professor?”
Schliermacher looked puzzled. “Yes, of course.”
“Do you know where it came from?” He was speaking to Carlsen again. Carlsen shook his head. Jamieson surveyed the faces around the table, looking for someone to answer the question. He reminded Carlsen of a headmaster with a class of sixth formers. When the silence became uncomfortable, Jamieson said: “It came from the control room of the Stranger.”
There were exclamations of astonishment; Jamieson smiled around at them, evidently pleased at the effect he had created. “The details are poor, of course. The original should tell us a great deal more.”
Rawlinson said: “That’s simply incredible.”
“But nevertheless true, as Dr Bukovsky will confirm.”
Bukovsky nodded, without looking up from the map. Schliermacher had produced a magnifying glass from his pocket and was studying the map intently. Jamieson said: “You realise what this means, of course?”
Rawlinson said: “That they know the earth pretty well.”
Jamieson’s face showed a flicker of irritation at being anticipated. He slapped the table. “Precisely, gentlemen. It means that these creatures have almost certainly visited our earth on a previous occasion.” The voice was vibrant and Churchillian. He looked around at them gravely. “The only alternative I can imagine is that they have examined the earth through incredibly powerful telescopes. But I can imagine no third possibility. Can you?”
Carlsen looked across at Fallada. He could see that Fallada was baffled and for the moment unsure of himself.
Schliermacher said suddenly: “But this is completely incredible.”
“Why, Professor?”
Schliermacher was evidently so excited that he had difficulty in speaking. He tapped the map with his finger.
“You see. . . this is Greece, but it is not modern Greece.”
Bukovsky interrupted acidly: “That is to be expected, surely?” He ignored the Prime Minister’s stare of rebuke.
Schliermacher, stammering slightly, said: “You don’t understand me. You see, this is very strange. Look.” He leaned over Bukovsky. “Do you know what this is?”
Bukovsky said: “I presume it’s an island.”
“Yes, an island. But it is the wrong shape. This is the island of Thera — we call it Santorin now. On a modern map, it is shaped like a crescent moon. Because about 1500 B.C. it was blown apart by a volcano. This map was made before the volcano exploded.”
The Prime Minister said: “You are telling us this map was made before 1500 B.C.?”
“Sure, that’s what I’m telling you.” Schliermacher was so excited that he was forgetting his awe. “But you see, there is a lot that I don’t understand. This is Knossos, on Crete. This is Athens. No human being at that period could have made such a map.”
Jamieson said: “Precisely. No human beings could have made it, but these creatures could, and did. Rawlinson, pass me the whisky. I think this calls for a celebratory drink.”
As Rawlinson pushed the tray down the table, Fallada asked quietly: “Would you tell me what we are supposed to be celebrating?”
Jamieson smiled at him benignly. “Gentlemen, I should explain that Dr Fallada thinks these creatures are dangerous. And for all I know, he could be right. But I also believe that this map represents one of the greatest advances in historical knowledge of our time. And as you all know, I regard myself as a historian rather than as a politician. So I think we might be justified in raising our glasses to Commander Carlsen and the Stranger.” He began to pour whisky into half a dozen glasses.
M’Kay said: “I think that’s a damn good idea. In fact, I’ve already given orders for the Stranger to be thoroughly examined.” He turned to Bukovsky. “I presume that’s being done?”
Bukovsky reddened. “No.”
M’Kay asked evenly: “Why not?”
“Because I agree with Fallada that these creatures might be dangerous.”
M’Kay began: “Now, look here –”
Fallada snapped: “They are dangerous. They’re vampires.”
M’Kay said scornfully: “So’s my grandmother.”
The others all began to speak at once. Jamieson said: “Gentlemen, gentlemen”. His voice had a calming effect. “I think there’s no need to get excited about this. We’re here to discuss this fully, and” — he turned to Fallada — “everyone has a right to give their point of view. So let us forget our differences for a moment and drink Commander Carlsen’s health.” Fallada continued to frown as he accepted his whisky. Jamieson raised his glass. “To Commander Carlsen and his epoch-making discovery.”