by Джеффри Лорд
«He’s at the closet, putting on his bathrobe,» said J.
Reginald said distinctly, «Where has that woman gone?» He sounded angry and suspicious.
«Here comes the knock at the door,» J predicted.
On the tape the knock sounded once, twice, three times. «Who can that be?» Reginald muttered. He crossed the room, his footsteps passing close to the hidden microphone. Reginald opened the hall door. J noted that Zoe had left it unlocked.
Reginald said, surprised, «What do you want, little girl?»
J leaned forward. No, the girl did not speak. J would have given a lot to hear her voice.
«Listen to this, Leighton,» snapped J.
Abruptly Reginald cried out, «My God! Your hand! It’s on fire!»
Then came the roar of flame, a rushing, whooshing roar like a giant blast furnace-then silence.
J pressed the stop button. «Want to hear it again, Lord Leighton?»
«No, that’s quite enough, thank you,» the scientist said.
J turned off the machine, saying, «I’ve known you a long time, Leighton. There’s something you’re keeping from me. I can sense it.»
Reluctantly Leighton nodded. «You’re right, of course. But before I tell you, I want you to promise me something.»
«What?»
«Promise me you won’t destroy KALI.»
J studied the little man intently before saying softly, «You have my word.»
«And another thing.»
«Yes?»
«Don’t tell the Prime Minister what I’m about to tell you, at least not yet.»
«Very well.»
Leighton sighed, avoiding J’s eyes. «Richard Blade had another of his fits early this morning. He got completely free of his fetters and smashed his bed into scrap iron, all the while screaming that word, ‘Ngaa, Ngaa, Ngaa.’ He kicked down his locked door and was some distance down the hall before the attendants could knock him out with the tranquilizer guns. I think our boy is developing an immunity to the drugs.»
«I don’t see… «
Leighton raised a hand for silence, then went on. «Here’s the point. His fit took place at exactly the same moment the fire started in Mrs. Smythe-Evans’s hotel room.»
«Coincidence.»
«Really? What if I tell you that at that exact same moment, KALI turned itself on.»
J took his pipe from his mouth. «Turned itself on? How is that possible?»
«KALI is not like its predecessors. With KALI I’ve made the final step from manual control to full automation.»
«But surely there must be a man to push program start.»
Leighton shook his head. «No, not really. KALI can start itself. And it did so this morning.»
«Only because some human being put that into its program.»
Again the scientist shook his head. «That’s not so. I believe I must explain something to you, something I assumed you knew all along, though now I see you haven’t grasped it. From the beginning we’ve talked of first generation computers, second generation computers, third generation computers. Do you know what that means?»
J shrugged. «Something like model A, B, and C.»
A bitter smile appeared on Leighton’s thin lips. «If only that were all. A second generation computer is programmed by a first generation computer, a third generation computer is programmed by a second generation computer, and so on.»
«You mean that KALI has been programmed by another computer, which in turn has been… «
«I see you understand.»
«How many generations is KALI removed from a human programmer, Leighton?»
«Seventy-five.»
«My God,» J said softly.
«KALI is far more complex than any human brain. No human brain can think as fast or as well. No human brain can hope, by any amount of study, to understand KALI. KALI has moved into a whole new order of magnitude. A cat or a dog can watch me at my workbench constructing an electric component, but the poor animal can never actually understand what I’m doing no matter how much he sniffs and paws. KALI’s mind is to ours as ours is to an animal’s! KALI’s actions must remain forever a mystery to us because of the biological limitations built into us.»
«So all we can do with KALI is sniff and paw?»
«That’s right.»
«There is one more thing we can do. We can pull the plug.»
«That is the one thing we must not do, my dear J.»
«Really? Why not?» J returned his pipe to his mouth and discovered it had gone out.
«The sort of thing that has been happening-the poltergeist phenomena, the voices, the haunting, if you will-sometimes happens without KALI’s aid. I think the thing that came through KALI with Richard can sometimes manifest itself in our world without KALI’s aid, though in a weaker form. Without KALI this thing Richard seems to call a Ngaa can reach us, but only with KALI’s aid can we reach it.»
J relit his pipe and began to pace the room. «Damn. There’s something in what you say, old boy. KALI is not like other computers. It’s a computer linked to a human mind, drawing on the powers of both, including powers that ordinarily lie dormant, powers we might almost term supernatural. There was a Yank author-some called him the father of psychic research-named Charles Fort. In the early years of our century he wrote a book called Wild Talents in which he advanced the theory that poltergeist phenomena were caused by mental abilities we all possess, but which become active only if something, such as a powerful repressed emotion, provides our psyche with a special stimulation. Fort gathered an awesome mass of data to back up his idea, and it’s dogma now to some of the leading psychic research societies. If Fort is right, KALI is not the gate through which the Ngaa enters our dimension. Richard Blade is the gate!»
The hunchback was silent a moment, his yellow-rimmed eyes unfocused, his wide forehead wrinkled in thought. At last he said, «it fits, J. When poor Dexter was taken to Scotland, the Ngaa went with him. It didn’t stay here, as it would have done if it had been linked to the computer.» He thumped his small bony fist on the tabletop. «By Jove, I believe we are on the verge of a breakthrough.»
J halted his pacing and stared gloomily down at the scientist. «Perhaps so, Lord Leighton. We could use one! Do you realize how pitifully little we have learned about the X dimension with all our experiments, with all the time and money we’ve spent, with all the risks we’ve taken? Human beings have died and gone mad in our experiments, and what have we to show for it? Richard Blade has gone somewhere, but where?»
Leighton stared at the floor. «I have no idea. At the beginning I was full of pat explanations, but now… «
«He has brought back things,» J persisted, emphasizing his points with swift stabbing motions of his pipestem. «Things as big as a bathtub and a horse, and things made of materials so alien our best scientists have been unable to duplicate them. Where did these things come from?»
«I don’t know,» Leighton admitted.
«And surely you’ve noticed the same mysterious anomalies I have in the stories Richard has related to us under hypnosis during his debriefings. Somehow he always seems to be able to speak the language of any dimension he enters without a single lesson. How can our supercomputers accomplish such a miracle?»
«I don’t know.» There was an undertone of anguish in Leighton’s voice.
«And have you noticed how each and every one of those alien dimensions seemed like a curiously distorted reflection of some era of our own known history? Celtic Britain. Ancient Rome. Feudal Japan. By God Leighton, where is this machine sending him? Backward in time? To some planet in another star system? To a parallel timetrack where society has evolved in a slightly different way? To a future so distant England has been completely forgotten? Where, Leighton, where?»
«I don’t know,» Leighton repeated hopelessly.
J gestured in the direction of the room where KALI stood, waiting. «Could it be that Richard never leaves that room?»
«What?» L
eighton looked up, startled.
«Could it be that those X dimensions are actually fantastically complex simulations existing within the computer? Could it be that all of Richard’s adventures are built up out of bits and pieces of his own subconscious and given an illusion of reality by the computer?»
«It can’t be merely an illusion,» Leighton objected. «Richard’s body vanishes while he’s gone.»
«Hundreds of people vanish every year, and even MI6 can’t track them down, except for those who surface a few months later in Moscow with a briefcase full of top secret blueprints. The strange thing is not that he vanishes, but that he reappears.»
«If he reappears, the X dimensions must be real!» Leighton spoke with the air of a man grasping at straws.
«Unless Richard Blade is disintegrated into his component atoms and stored as bits of information in KALI’s memory banks, then reconstituted with appropriate wounds and souvenirs after a suitable period of time, complete with implanted false memories of adventures that never happened. Can KALI do that?»
Stricken, Lord Leighton could only repeat, «I don’t know.»
J began pacing again. «One thing we can be thankful for. If the Ngaa follows the same pattern this time as it did when it came through the computer with Dexter, we can expect the power of the creatures to gradually dwindle.»
«I wouldn’t count on that,» Leighton said bleakly.
«Why not?»
«This time, when KALI turned itself on, something came through it.»
«What do you mean, ‘something’?»
«I didn’t see it, though I was in the room at the time, but it was recorded on our instruments. I can show you the graphs if… «
«Never mind the graphs, Leighton. Tell me, in plain words. What was it?»
In the blue-white fluorescent light Leighton’s face was that of a dead man. «It was pure energy, J, the equivalent of hundreds of thousands of volts of electricity.»
On stepping out of the elevator, J was met by Dr. Ferguson. Ferguson wore an even more flamboyantly floral Hawaiian sport shirt than before, but there was nothing flamboyant about the fat man’s bloodshot, haunted eyes.
«How is Mrs. Smythe-Evans?» J asked.
«She’s taking it well,» the psychiatrist answered. «The woman’s got courage. I offered her something to get her over the rough spots, but she turned me down.»
«May I visit her?»
«I don’t see why not. She’s lying down, but I don’t think she’s asleep. At least she wasn’t when I looked in on her a half-hour ago. Room Eight, that way.» He indicated the direction with a weary gesture.
As J started down the hall, Ferguson fell in step beside him, saying, «The poltergeist nonsense has started again, you know, worse than ever. I thought it would die down if we waited long enough, but… «He shrugged.
«What happened?»
«Something picked up the filing cabinet in my office and threw it through the wall out into the passage. And did Leighton tell you things have been smashing themselves upstairs too, near KALI?»
«No, he kept quiet about that. He thinks that if I know how serious things have gotten, I’ll take his wonderful electric toy away from him.»
«A capital idea, I’d say! I hope you do exactly that.»
«I don’t plan to.»
«Why not, in God’s name?»
«I want to try something else, first.»
«Do something, J! Anything! I’m supposed to be the great healer around here, but I’m about ready for a trip to Scotland myself.»
They halted outside Room Eight.
J said, «Unless I’m greatly mistaken, you’ll have peace in this place tomorrow morning.»
Staring at J with unconcealed disbelief, the doctor opened the door. «A visitor, Mrs. Smythe-Evans,» he called with a false cheerfulness.
«Bring him in.» Her voice sounded tired.
In the doorway J said, «I hope I’m not intruding. If you’d like to rest… «
«I can’t sleep. I might as well talk.» She was lying in bed, propped up on a pillow, wearing a white hospital gown.
J pulled up the room’s one chair and sat down by her bedside.
«I have things to do,» Ferguson said apologetically. «If you need me, there’s a button… «He backed out, bowing slightly, and closed the door.
When he was gone, Zoe said, «I don’t like that man. He thinks all you have to do is take a pill and everything will be all right.»
«A common superstition of his profession,» J replied smoothly.
«Tell me about the fire. Were there many casualties?»
«Twenty-seven dead, by the latest count. I don’t remember how many were hurt.»
«Twenty-seven dead.» She lay back and closed her eyes.
«I think I must be a very selfish woman. That number doesn’t seem to mean anything to me.»
«No more selfish than the rest of us, Mrs. Smythe-Evans, though perhaps a bit more honest.»
«I don’t think about all those poor people who got burned up. I don’t even think very much about my husband, though he was a good man. I know to some he was a clown, a figure of fun, but he was kind most of the time, and trustworthy and reliable. Reliability is a vastly underrated virtue, I’ve come to believe. It’s like a good English suit; a man can wear it for a long time and it still looks well on him. Yet, though I’ve honestly tried, I can’t seem to burst into hysterical tears over Reginald. Is there something wrong with me?»
«No.»
«I’m going to shock you yet. My children. Mrs. Kelly. Are they among the twenty-seven?»
J hesitated, then nodded. «Yes, Mrs. Smythe-Evans.»
«You’re sure?»
«They were… rather badly burned, but my men were able to identify them… by their teeth. Your family dentist came down from Norwich with their X-rays. He was very helpful.» J was choosing his words with care.
«You see how selfish I am? I don’t even think about them, poor lads.» Her voice began to quaver and she paused before going on. «Except for Dickie. Dickie wasn’t like the others.»
J thought she was indeed going to burst into tears, but she gave herself a little shake and opened her eyes. «You see? Selfish to the core! Reginald often accused me of that, of thinking only of myself, of loving only myself. It’s a pity he can’t be here to enjoy being right again, as he usually was.»
J said gently, «To be, as you put it, selfish may be an advantage in a situation like this. You can look at things calmly, plan for the future.»
«Future? What future?» she demanded. «I have no future.»
«It may not appear so, but… «
«I haven’t worked at a regular job since my marriage. I have, unfortunately, been a completely faithful wife and mother, and so haven’t got a lover waiting in the wings to spirit me away to a new and better life. Oh, I’m sure I won’t starve. There will still be plenty of money in the Smythe-Evans coffers, even after inheritance taxes. But a future? That’s too grand a word to describe the years I’ll be spending in that ugly house in Norwich, listening to echoes and washing dishes for myself, discreetly and with dignity turning into a hag.»
«Surely it’s not as bad as all that.»
«No?» She sat upright and glared at him. «Can you think of anyone on God’s green earth who would offer decent employment to a woman of my age and inexperience?»
«Yes I can.»
«Who?» Her tone was almost contemptuous.
«Me, Mrs. Smythe-Evans, on behalf of Her Majesty’s Special Services, Department MI6A.»
«You’ve finally taken leave of your senses, my dear J,» Lord Leighton said, more amused than angry.
Dr. Ferguson, not so good-humoredly, agreed. «That’s a layman’s diagnosis, but I cannot help but concur.»
J, Leighton and Ferguson were in what remained of Ferguson’s office. Ferguson sat behind his desk, J sat near the gaping hole in the wall, and Leighton sat near the badly dented filing cabinet, which had been returned to it
s place against the back of the room. The cabinet was so bent that J suspected it could not be opened without a crowbar.
Leighton continued with agitation, «Of all of us, you’ve always been the most sticky about security clearances and all that rot, but now… «
J smiled. «Mrs. Smythe-Evans is no security risk. I’m certain of that. You see, many years ago I took the liberty of starting a security check on the lady when it appeared that Blade might marry her. He would have had to violate the Official Secrets Act to do it, of course, but he was a hot-blooded lad in those days, if you’ll recall. He broke off with her before the investigation was complete, but we’ve kept track of her ever since. She has never in her life joined any of the wrong organizations, signed any of the wrong petitions, or had any of the wrong friends. Moreover, if she was an agent, even a sleeper under deep cover, we would find her somewhere closer to the seats of power, not married to a C.P.A. in a place like Norwich. I’ve reactivated her security check, and we should have an official clearance within a fortnight.»
Ferguson said stiffly, «Wait until then to swear her in.»
J chuckled. «It seems you were not listening, Ferguson old boy. I said I’ve already sworn her in.»
«You can revoke… «began the little fat man.
«I’ve made up my mind, gentlemen. I revoke nothing. If she doesn’t work out, I take full responsibility. Really, since the Katerina Shumilova affair I’ve become more than somewhat skeptical about the effectiveness of our security precautions. We would probably get a higher percentage of loyal, patriotic Britons if we chucked the whole bloody screening process and recruited our people by lottery from the local Salvation Army breadline.» J took out his omnipresent pipe and began filling it with an air of satisfaction.
Lord Leighton said gloomily, «What’s done is done, I suppose, but I can’t see the good of it.»
J answered, tamping down his tobacco, «The simple truth is that we need her. She was able to get a reaction out of Richard… «
«A violent reaction,» put in Ferguson.
«But a reaction nonetheless,» J said. «As things stand, literally everything depends on Richard Blade’s recovery.» He paused to let this sink in. «Therefore I think we must work closely with her, hiding nothing from her, granting her an unlimited need-to-know. How could we do that if she wasn’t one of us, eh?» He lit up, exhaling little puffs of blue-white smoke. The air was filled with the strong but not unpleasant aroma of crude sailor’s rough-cut tobacco.