by Brian Lumley
— even his own existence is in doubt! He wants to ‘talk’ about all of his experiences, everything he ever did or saw or said, because that way he will know that he is real, that he has existence. But if he physically tried to do it at the speed his mind is working, he would rapidly dehydrate
and burn himself out; especially if he were awake, conscious. Also, we are not interested in the accumulation of all of that information, we do not wish to know ‘everything’. His life in general holds little of interest to us, but of course we are completely fascinated with details of his work for INTESP.’
Dolgikh shook his head in bewilderment. ‘You are stealing his thoughts?’
‘Oh yes! It’s an idea we borrowed from Boris Dragosani. He was a necromancer: he could steal the thoughts of the dead! We can only do it to the living, but when we’re finished they’re as good as dead…‘
‘But… I mean, how?’ The concept was over Dolgikh’s head.
Gerenko glanced at him, just a glance, a twitch of the eyes in his wizened head. ‘I can’t explain “how” — not to you — only “what”. When he touches upon a mundane matter, the entire subject is drawn from him swiftly — and erased. This saves time, for he can’t return to that subject again. But when we are interested in his subject, then the telepaths absorb the content of his thoughts as best they can. If what they learn is difficult to remember or understand, they make a note, a jotting which can be studied later. And as soon as that line of inquiry is exhausted, then that subject, too, is erased.’
Dolgikh had taken most of this in, but his interest now centred on Zek Föener. ‘That girl, she is very beautiful.’ His gaze was openly lecherous. ‘Now if only she were a subject for interrogation. My sort of interrogation, of course.’ He gave a coarse chuckle.
At that exact moment the girl looked up. Her bright blue eyes blazed with fury. She looked directly at the oneway glass, as if.
‘Ah!’ said Dolgikh, the word a small gasp. ‘Impossible! She looks through the glass at us!’
‘No,’ Gerenko shook his head. ‘She thinks through it — at you, if I’m not mistaken!’
Foener stood up, strode purposefully to a side door and left the room, emerging into the rubber-floored corridor where the observers stood. She came straight up to them, glanced once at Dolgikh and showed him her perfect, sharp white teeth, then turned to Gerenko. ‘Ivan, take this… this ape away from here. He’s inside my radius, and his mind’s like a sewer!’
‘Of course, my dear,’ Gerenko smiled and nodded his wrinkled walnut head. He turned away, taking Dolgikh’s elbow. ‘Come, Theo.’
Dolgikh shook himself loose, scowled at the girl. ‘You are very free with your insults.’
‘That is the correct way.’ She spoke curtly. ‘Face to face and out with it. But your insults crawl like worms, and you keep them in the slime in your head!’ And to Gerenko she added: ‘I can’t work with him here.’
Gerenko looked at Dolgikh. ‘Well?’
Dolgikh’s expression was ugly, but slowly he relaxed, shrugged. ‘Very well, my apologies, Fräulein Föener.’ He deliberately avoided use of his customary ‘Comrade’; and when he looked her up and down one last time, that too was quite deliberate. ‘It’s simply that I’ve always considered my thoughts private. And anyway, I’m only human.’
‘Barely!’ she snapped, and at once returned to her work.
As Dolgikh followed Gerenko to his office, the Second in Command of EBranch said, ‘That one’s mind is very finely tuned, finely balanced. We must be careful not to — disturb it. However distasteful this may seem, Theo, you should never forget that any one of the espers here is worth ten of you.’
Dolgikh had pride. ‘Oh?’ he growled. ‘Then why didn’t Andropov ask you to send one of them to Italy, eh? Maybe you yourself, eh, Comrade?’
Gerenko smiled thinly. ‘Muscle occasionally has its advantages. That’s why you went to Genoa, and it’s why you’re here now. I expect to have more work for you very soon. Work to your liking. But, Theo, be warned: so far you’ve done very well, so don’t spoil it now. Our mutual, er, shall we say “superior”, will be well pleased with you. But he would not be pleased if he thought you’d tried to impose your matter over our mind. Here at the Château Bronnitsy, its always the other way around — mind over matter!’
They climbed spiralling stone stairs in one of the Château’s towers, and arrived at Gerenko’s office. Before Gerenko it had housed Gregor Borowitz, and it was now Felix Krakovitch’s seat of control; but Krakovitch was temporarily absent, and both Ivan Gerenko and Yuri Andropov intended that his absence should become permanent. This, too, puzzled Dolgikh.
‘In my time,’ he said, taking a seat opposite Gerenko’s desk, ‘I’ve been quite close to Comrade Andropov — or as close as a man can get. I’ve watched him rise, followed his rising star, you might say. In my experience, since the early days of EBranch, there has been friction between the KGB and you espers. Yet now, with you, things are changing. What has Andropov got on you, Ivan?’
Gerenko’s grin was that of a weasel. ‘He has nothing on me,’ he answered. ‘But he does have something for me. You see, I have been cheated, Theo. Nature has robbed me. I would like to be a man of heroic proportions
— perhaps a man like you. But I’m stuck in this feeble shell. Women are not interested in me; men, while they cannot hurt me, consider me a freak. Only my mind has value, and my talent. The first has been useful to Felix Krakovitch: I’ve taken a great deal of the branch’s burden off his shoulders. And the second is a subject for intense study by the parapsychologists here — they would all like
to have my, shall we say, guardian angel? Why, an army of men with my talent would be quite invulnerable!
‘So you see how important I am. And yet what am I but a shrunken little man, whose lifespan is destined to be short? And so while I live I want power. I want to be great, for however short a span. And because it will be short, I want it now.’
‘And with Krakovitch gone, you’ll be the boss here.’ Dolgikh nodded.
Gerenko smiled his withered smile. ‘That for a start. But then comes the integration of EBranch and the KGB. Brezhnev would be against it, of course, but alas the Party Leader is rapidly becoming a mumbling, crumbling cretin. He can’t last long. And Andropov, because he is strong, has many enemies. How long will he last, do you think? Which means that eventually, possibly, even probably —‘
‘You’ll have it all!’ Dolgikh could see the logic — of it. ‘But by then, surely, you too will have made enemies. Leaders always climb to the top over the bodies of dead leaders.’
‘Ah!’ Gerenko’s smile was sly, cold, and not entirely sane. ‘But this time it will be different. What do I care for enemies? Sticks and stones will not break my bones! And I shall weed them out, one by one, until there are no more. And I shall die small and wrinkled, but also great and very powerful. So whatever you do, Theo Dolgikh, make sure you’re my friend, not my enemy.
Dolgikh said nothing for a moment but let all that Gerenko had said sink in. The man was obviously a megalomaniac! Tactfully, Dolgikh changed the subject. ‘You said there’d likely be more work for me. What sort of work?’
‘As soon as we are sure that we can learn everything we desire to know from Alec Kyle, then Krakovitch, his man Gulharov, and the other British agent, Quint, will become quite expendable. At the moment, when Krakovitch wants something done, he speaks to me and I in turn pass on his request to Brezhnev. Not directly to Brezhnev but through one of his men — a mere lackey, but a powerful lackey. The Party Leader is keen on EBranch and so Krakovitch usually gets what he wants. Witness this unheard of liaison between British and Soviet espers!
‘But of course I’m also working for Andropov. He, too, knows everything that is happening. And he has already instructed me that when the time comes you are the tool I shall throw-into Krakovitch’s machinery. EBranch has been soundly beaten, almost destroyed, by INTESP once before. Brezhnev wants to know how and why,
and so does Andropov. We had a mighty weapon in Boris Dragosani, but their weapon, a youth called Harry Keogh, was mightier. What gave him his power? What were his powers? And right now: we know that with the aid of INTESP Krakovitch has destroyed something in Romania. I have been through Krakovitch’s files and I think I know what he destroyed: the same thing which gave Dragosani his powers! Krakovitch sees it as a great evil, but I see it only as another tool. A powerful weapon. That is why the British are so eager to help Krakovitch:
the fool is systematically destroying a possible route for future Soviet supremacy!’
‘Then he’s a traitor?’ Dolgikh’s eyes narrowed. The Soviet Union was all. Power struggles within the structure were only to be expected, but treachery of this sort was something else. ‘No.’ Gerenko shook his head. ‘He’s a dupe. Now listen: At this very moment Krakovitch, Gulharov and Quint are stalled at a crossing-point on the Moldavian horder. I organised that through Andropov. I know where they want to go, and very shortly I’ll be sending you to deal with them there. When exactly rather depends on how much we get from Kyle. But in any case we must stop them from doing any more damage. Which means
that time is of the essence; they can’t be stalled forever, and soon must be allowed to proceed. Also, they know the location of whatever it is they’re seeking, and we do not. Not yet. Tomorrow morning you will be there to follow them to their destination, their ultimate destination. At least I hope so.
Dolgikh frowned. ‘They’ve destroyed something, you say? And they’ll do it again? What sort of something?’
‘If you had been in time to follow them into the Romanian hills, you’d probably have seen for yourself. But don’t worry about it. Let it suffice that this time they mustn’t succeed.’
As Gerenko finished speaking his telephone rang. He lifted it to his ear — and his expression at once became wary, alert. ‘Comrade Krakovitch!’ he said. ‘I was begin-fling to worry about you. I had expected to hear from you before now. Are you in Chernovtsy?’ He looked pointedly across his desk at Dolgikh.
Even from where he sat, Dolgikh could hear the angry, tinny clatter of Krakovitch’s distant voice. Gerenko began to blink rapidly and a nervous tic jerked the corner of his mouth.
Finally, when Krakovitch was finished, he said, ‘Listen, Comrade. Ignore that stupid frontier guard. He isn’t worth losing your temper over. Just stay exactly where you are and in a few minutes I shall have full authorisation phoned through. But first let me speak to that idiot.’
He waited a moment, until he heard the slightly tremulous, inquiring voice of the border official, and then very quietly said, ‘Listen. Do you recognise my voice? Good! In approximately ten minutes I shall phone again and tell you I am the commissioner for Frontier Control in Moscow. Ensure that you and you alone answer the phone, and that you can’t be overheard. I will order you to let comrade Krakovitch and his friends through, and you will do so. Do you understand?’
‘Oh, yes, Comrade!’
‘If Krakovitch should ask you what I have just said, tell him I was shouting at you and calling you a fool.’
‘Yes, of course, Comrade.’
‘Good!’ Gerenko put the phone down. He looked at Dolgikh. ‘As I was saying, I couldn’t hold them up forever. Already this affair is growing clumsy, becoming embarrassing. But even though they’ll now go through to Chernovtsy, they can do nothing tonight. And tomorrow you’ll be there to stop them doing anything.’
Dolgikh nodded. ‘Do you have any suggestions?’
‘In what respect?’
‘About how it should be done? If Krakovitch is a traitor, it seems to me that the easiest way of dealing with this would be —’
‘No!’ Gerenko cut him off. ‘That would be hard to prove. And he has the ear of the Party Leader, remember? We must never leave ourselves open to question in this matter.’ He tapped a finger on his desk, gave the problem a moment’s thought. ‘Ah! I think I may have it. I have called Krakovitch a dupe — so let it appear. Let Carl Quint be the guilty party! Arrange it so that he can be blamed. Let it be seen that the British espers came into Russia to discover what they could of EBranch, and to kill its head. Why not? They’ve damaged the branch before, haven’t they? But on this occasion Quint will err and become a fatality of his own strategy.’
‘Good!’ said Dolgikh. ‘I’m sure I’ll work something out along those lines. And — of course I’ll be the only witness.
Light footsteps sounded and Zek Foener appeared on the office threshold. She merely glanced coldly at Dolgikh, then fixed her gaze on Gerenko. ‘Kyle is a goldmine — the sane part of him, anyway! There is nothing he doesn’t know, and he’s releasing it in a flood. He even knows a
good many — too many — things about us. Things I didn’t know. Fantastic things…‘ Suddenly she looked tired.
Gerenko nodded. ‘Fantastic things? I had supposed that they would be. Is that why you think he’s partly insane? That his mind is playing him tricks? Believe me, it isn’t! Do you know what they destroyed in Romania?’
She nodded. ‘Yes, but… it’s hard to believe. I —’
Gerenko held up a warning hand. She understood, felt caution emanating from him. Theo Dolgikh was not to know. Like most of the other espers at the Château, Foener hated the KGB. She nodded, and kept her silence.
Gerenko spoke again. ‘And is it the same sort of thing that lies hidden in the mountains beyond Chernovtsy?’
Again she nodded.
‘Very well.’ Gerenko smiled without emotion. ‘And now, my dear, you must return to your work. Give it total priority.’
‘Of course,’ she answered. ‘I only came away while they were dosing him again. And because I need a break from…‘ She shook her head dazedly. Her eyes were wide, bright with strange new knowledge. ‘Comrade, this thing is utterly —‘
Again Gerenko held up his child’s hand in warning. ‘I know.’
She nodded, turned and left, her footsteps a little uncertain on the descending stone stairs.
‘What was all that about?’ Dolgikh was mystified.
‘That was the joint death certificate of Krakovitch, Gulharov and Quint,’ Gerenko answered. ‘Actually, Quint was the only one who might have been useful — but no longer. Now you can get on your way. Is the branch helicopter ready for you?’
Dolgikh nodded. He began to stand up, then frowned and said, ‘First tell me, what will happen to Kyle when you are finished with him? I mean, I’ll take care of that
other pair of traitors, and the British esper, Quint, but what of Kyle? What will become of him?’
Gerenko raised his eyebrows. ‘I thought that was obvious. When we have what we want, everything we want, then we’ll dump him in the British zone in Berlin. There he’ll simply die, and their best doctors won’t know why.’
‘But why will he die? And what of that drug you’re pumping into him? Surely their doctors will pick up traces?’
Gerenko shook his walnut head. ‘It leaves no trace. It completely voids itself in a few hours. That is why we have to keep dosing him. A clever lot, our Bulgarian friends. He’s not the first one we’ve drained in this fashion, and the results have always been the same. As to why he will die: he will have no incentive for life. Less than a cabbage, he will not retain sufficient knowledge or instinct even to move his body. There will be no control — none! His vital organs will not function. He might survive longer on a life-support machine, but…‘ And he shrugged.
‘Brain-death.’ Dolgikh nodded and grinned.
‘But there you have it in a nutshell.’ Gerenko emotionlessly clapped his child’s hands. ‘Bravo! For what is an entirely empty brain if not dead, eh? And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a telephone call to make.’
Dolgikh stood up. ‘I’ll be on my way,’ he said. Already he was looking forward to the task in hand.
‘Theo,’ said Gerenko. ‘Krakovitch and his friends — they should be killed with despatch. Don’t linger over it. And one last thing: do not be
too curious about what they are trying to do up there in the mountains. Do not concern yourself with it. Believe me, too much curiosity could be very, very dangerous!’
In answer to which Dolgikh could only nod. Then he turned and left the room.
*
As their car drew away from the checkpoint towards Chernovtsy, Quint might have expected Krakovitch to carry on raging. But he didn’t. Instead the head of the Soviet EBranch was quiet and thoughtful, and even more so after Gulharov quickly told him about the disconnected cable.
‘There are several things I not liking here,’ Krakovitch told Quint in a little while. ‘At first I am thinking that fat man back there is simply stupid, but now not being so sure. And this business with the electricity — all very strange. Sergei finds and fixes that which they could not — and he does it quickly and without difficulty. Which would seem to make our fat friend at the checkpoint not only stupid but incompetent!’
‘You think we were deliberately delayed?’ Quint felt an uneasy, dark oppressiveness settling all around him, like a positive weight on his head and shoulders.
‘That telephone call he got just now,’ Krakovitch mused. ‘The Commissioner for Frontier Control, in Moscow? I never heard of him! But I suppose he must exist. Or must he? One commissioner, controlling all of the thousands of crossing points into the Soviet Union? So, I assume he exists. Which is meaning that Ivan Gerenko got in touch with him, in the dead of night, and that he then personally called up this little fat official in his stupid sentry-box of a control hut — all in ten minutes!’
‘Who knew we were coming through here tonight?’ Quint, in his way of going to the root of things, asked the most obvious question.
‘Eh?’ Krakovitch scratched behind his ear. ‘We knew it, of course, and —’
‘And?’
‘And my Second in Command at the Château Bronnitsy, Ivan Gerenko.’ Krakovitch turned to Quint and stared hard at him.
‘Then, while I dislike saying it,’ said Quint, ‘if there is something funny going on, Gerenko has to be your man.’