— Until it looked at him and said, 'H-h-help meeeee!' And then he knew it was real!
As his eyes rolled up and he flopped, so the minders were there beside him, taking him under the arms, bearing his weight as easily as if he were a child. Tall, thin and spidery as Santeson was, his knees scraped along the stony floor as they bore him up and away, out of the cave of the seething Thing, to Malinari…
Three hours earlier:
Crouching low under the circular shimmer of the jetcopter's fan, and calling Jake's name, Liz Merrick was buffeted by a blistering whirlwind of heat where she ran across the helipad to where Chopper Two was making ready to take off. Jake shouldn't have been able to hear her over the high-pitched whining of the engine and vanes, but he 'heard' her anyway.
Sliding a gunner's door halfway open, he clung to a strap, leaned out and down, and took the fluttering envelope that she passed up to him. And with a last long look into her eyes, seeing the pain in them, he felt the slight tremor that warned of imminent take-off and closed the door to the merest crack. The chopper lifted off, rose up and turned once, slowly, through a hundred and eighty degrees.
Liz came back into view. She'd moved into a safe position at the edge of the helipad and was waving up at him. He opened the door a fraction more, waved back. But then, as the chopper gained altitude, keeled on its side a little and headed north, she was lost to sight.
Jake closed the door and took his seat beside Lardis Lidesci. And thinking hard — thinking about Liz, and thinking at her — he said:
Take care of yourself, Liz. You be sure to take very good care of yourself.
You too, she told him, quite clearly. And also: … I'm sorry, Jake.p>
It was in Jake's mind to ask her what about, but since he believed he already knew, there wasn't much point in it. Moreover, he knew that it wasn't her fault, that she really didn't have anything to be sorry about. It was the job that kept coming between them — Ben Trask and E-Branch — and E-Branch would always come first.
But a picture of Liz stayed in his mind — her night-black hair, cut in that boyish bob; her intelligent, sea-green eyes; her curves, of course, and her smile like a ray of bright light — standing there at the edge of the helipad, waving, and gradually dwindling into the distance. And despite that it was all in his mind's eye, Jake knew that in fact she was still there, watching the jetcopter right out of sight.
He had put the envelope in his pocket. Now, as the rumble of the chopper's jets took over and he felt forward acceleration, he took it out to read what Liz had written on the single leaf of paper that was folded inside. But as he unfolded it:
'From Liz?' Lardis grunted.
'Mind your own business,' Jake answered.
'She thinks a lot of you.'
'That cuts both ways,' said Jake. 'Can you read our language?'
'Some,' said Lardis. 'When it's printed. But handwriting? Not a chance. It looks like spider shit to me!'
'Good!' said Jake. And despite the Old Lidesci's sideways squint, he read what was written:
Jake-It's a bit late, but you asked me to remind you of a name — the name was KORATH. You may not remember it, but if you do you'll probably think I'm a treacherous bitch. If so, well, there's not much that I can do about it. But it seemed to me you thought this was pretty important. And since we don't know what's coming, it could be a question of now or never, my one chance to put things straight—
— Or to mess them up completely. I care for you more than you know, and a lot more than circumstances have let me show.
Please take care. Liz.
Jake read it through again. Korath? The name rang a bell, but it was a far and almost forgotten clamour. Something he'd dreamed? Well, that was what she was talking about, obviously: the fact that she'd been snooping on him again, when he slept. But so what? It was her job and he would simply have to learn to accept it — and Liz would have to learn to accept whatever she found in there, in his subconscious mind, like it or not.
His recurrent nightmare? Well that would explain yesterday's coolness, certainly. But Korath…?
Again Jake heard the ringing of that distant bell — perhaps a warning bell? And this time more insistently — and he frowned as he tried to recall whatever it meant back into the focus of his memory. Was it something that he'd dreamed?
Jake had read a few things about dreams, and he knew that to many others they were of special significance. To him, however, dreams had usually been trivial, easily forgotten things, the scurf or sloughed-off skin of more fully fleshed-out ideas and concepts from his waking hours. And he wondered: How often does a man retain detailed memories of what he dreams, and for how long?
Nightmares were one thing (for they left lasting impressions, if only through the emotion of fear), but common or garden dreams? And again he thought: Korath? But this time it was a very deliberate thought, and unguarded.
And it was deadspeak.
Immediately there was someone — or some Thing — there in his mind. Shadows sprang into being, and It came with them.
You called! said a glutinous voice that was both surprised and pleased, causing Jake to start. And you remembered. But how much have you remembered? It's all there, Jake, just waiting to come back to you. But I feel your sense of shock — the way you recoil from me — and I wonder, do you really remember? What is it, Jake? Why did you call out to me?
'What in the name of…!?' said Jake, and at once, instinctively, brought mental barriers crashing down to shut whatever it was — this thing, this Other, this Korath — out of his mind.
The other fled or was banished at once, and Jake heard him
go: his frustrated cry of rage, denial, as he disappeared into the deadspeak aether:
No, Jake, no! Don't send me away! You'll know soon enough how much you need me. And you must always remember: I have the numbers! I have the numbers, Jake, and I know the waaayyy!
Then he was gone…
'Eh?' said Lardis, staring hard at Jake, at a face turned pale and gaunt. 'Eh, what? Is there something? You gave a start just then. You said something. And the way you look…' But:
'Shhh!' Jake shook his head, concentrated, and remembered! Remembered it all, but most of all that he'd almost made a deal with a vampire. And he remembered something else: Harry Keogh's warning, that even a dead vampire is a dangerous thing that you should never, ever, let into your mind!
'You look peculiar,' said the Old Lidesci.
Jake looked at him, swallowed hard, and slowly got a grip of himself. 'It was… it was nothing,' he said. 'Nothing that I want to talk about now, anyway. Later, maybe — to Liz and Ben Trask — when tonight's business is over.'
And between times… he dug out a ballpoint and began to make shaky notes on Liz's scrap of paper.
For while he still hadn't quite come to terms with everything that was happening to him, and whether or not this latest manifestation was some kind of daydream, mental quirk, evidence of a dual personality, or whatever, still Jake knew that it was something he must remember in detail, something that he really couldn't afford to forget…
Chopper Two disembarked its task force in Gladstone and refuelled. Earlier that day, three SAS men had made the long drive up to Gladstone to check that all was in order with the coastguard vessel. Now the two units met up for a final briefing.
The attack on the island would be two-pronged. Along with WO II Joe Davis and four NCOs, Jake and Lardis Lidesci would be airborne; four more NCOs would be in the boat.
Zero Hour — the time scheduled for the launch of simultaneous attacks on both the Capricorn Group island and the mountain resort of Xanadu — had been set for 6:30 p.m. The weather was good and the sea flat calm, and with just ninety minutes to go to Zero Hour, the boat cast off.