Necroscope: Invaders

'Harry's dead,' said Trask.

'But Nathan isn't/ said Turchin. 'And he owes me.'

Trask shook his head. 'No, Nathan can't help us. Not right now. He has problems of his own, in Sunside/Starside. And there isn't any way we can contact him.'

But didn't you say you were working on something?'

'Something, someone, yes. Don't ask me any more about it.'

Turchin nodded. 'I see…'

'But don't lose hope,' Trask told him. 'Like I said, we'll do what we can. Meanwhile you'll have to sit tight, play dumb.'

'Play dumb?' Turchin snorted. 'I may be the Premier, but I can't hold these people off forever! Suvorov and a good many men, scientist and soldier both, have gone missing and they believe I have the answers. And when I won't supply them, then they'll think I'm involved.'

'Then keep out of their way for as long as you can.'

'I intend to,' said Turchin. 'That is the other reason I'm here in Brisbane. Because it keeps me out of Russia. And that's why those "friends" of mine in the other car, those—'

'Those goons?'

'—Why those goons are here, yes.' Turchin tried to smile but it was a futile effort. 'To make sure I'll find my way back home again. Hub!'

'You could seek political asylum.'

'Which might solve my problem, but it wouldn't solve ours, yours, Russia's, or the world's.'

'So what will you do?'

'These conferences look like they'll go on forever. Certainly for the rest of this year. Here, and in London, Brussels, Rio de Janeiro, Calcutta, you name it. I shall attend them all, one after the other if that's at all feasible. And of course I shall sweat and worry, and wait for you to come up with an answer.'

'And at the same time do something for me,' said Trask. 'Ah, yes! Your problems/ said Turchin. 'I had almost forgotten that this isn't a one-sided affair. So then, what can I do for you?'

'It's all part of the same problem,' Trask told him. 'Remember that and it might give you an incentive. First, call off your mindspies. If we're to work together — or at least on the same wavelength — you don't need to be watching me. But on the other hand I do need them to be watching out for me. Or rather, for vampires. But there's more than one kind of bloodsucker involved here. You mentioned the illicit drugs trade. It's no big secret how the so-called Russian Mafia are flushing your people and your country down the toilet. But in another way, a different way, they're also connected with our problem in general. So here's what I want you to do…'

And he quickly explained what he wanted: information from Turchin's side on the Moscow Mafia's connection with Marseille, with specific reference to Luigi Castellano's organization and its operation in the northern Mediterranean. And:

'This man Castellano is of particular interest to us,' he finished up. 'He's a dark horse indeed. My people in the Branch haven't so far been able to pin him down, and Interpol has next to nothing on him. I mean, it's not unusual for a drugs boss to keep a low profile, but this one's near-invisible. And frankly, I want his backside in a sling.'

Turchin looked doubtful. 'But doesn't this smack of common or garden police work? How does it fit into the big picture?'

'I'm trying to help someone who may soon be in a very good position to help me — or us,' Trask answered. 'If I scratch his back, with a bit of luck he'll scratch ours.'

And Turchin nodded. Til see what I can do. Is there anything else?'

'You can try to find out just exactly what we'll be going up against if or when we do try to take Perchorsk,' Trask said.

The Russian Premier looked at him; indeed, his dark, glinting eyes bored into him as he inquired, 'With a British force, do you mean? In which case you might require a route of access. Not to mention one of egress, an escape route.'

'Good idea,' said Trask. 'You can look into that, too, by all means. And you can think how to give us cover in the event of political flak, that is if we were seen to be involved. But at the moment I don't see it as a problem. It's like you said: Perchorsk is remote, isolated.'

'Oh? And you can come and go into foreign lands and alien places at will, can you?' And now Turchin's gaze was even more intense.

But Trask only said, 'We've talked enough, and our time's up.' Then he switched on the intercom and said: 'Mr Smith, the hotel, if you please.'

In a little while, Turchin said. 'Well, it seems our business is done for now. But if that's all you want, and if things eventually work out, it would appear I get the best of the bargain.'

Trask looked at him and shook his head. 'I understand what you're saying, Gustav, but I think it's a very narrow viewpoint. The way I see it, the whole world gets the best of the bargain. Which is to say, we all come out of it alive… and as men.'

Turchin shrugged and answered, 'Yes, yes, of course you're right. Still, on a moment-to-moment basis, one's own skin is oddly precious.'

But Trask only said, 'How about one's soul?'

And a little later, while Turchin thought about that — if he thought about it — the limo arrived at his hotel…

… And Trask was long gone before the second limo drew up where Turchin stamped 'angrily' to and fro, waiting for his minders.

Tfw^He grunted as they got out of the car. 'Couldn't at least one of you have made an effort to stay with me?'

'But Premier—' the senior man began to protest.

'No buts.'' Turchin snapped. 'I shall report your inefficiency back in Moscow. And I'll also be making a strong complaint here.'

'A complaint?' The other's jaw dropped.

'Of course, fool! No, no, not about you, but my driver and this bloody conference official, this Mr, er—'

'Smith?'

'Indeed, yes!'

'Both the driver and the official were Smiths?' 'Eh? Yes, I know that, you idiot! Please try not to inform me of what I already know. But, damn! You'd think that at least one of them would know the way to the hotel, wouldn't you…?'

By the time the precog lan Goodly picked up the locator David Chung from Brisbane's international airport, Trask was in bed asleep. But he had left a message not to be disturbed, with a note that said:

David, welcome—

But I'm afraid you will have to start 'swarming' in the morning. Right now we're all badly in need of a few hours' sleep. I imagine it must be pretty much the same for you, what with jetlag and all.

lan: make sure the D.O. knows to wake me if anything important comes in during the night. Other than that, give me a shake when the sun's up and there's a pot of coffee on the go. Thanks…

Jake Cutter had had his fill of sleep en route; so he thought. He sat up downstairs and played a quiet game of poker with the Warrant Officer commanders of the military contingent from the second jetcopter. By three in the morning, however, they were all yawning; then, deciding to call it a night (or a new day), each of them went off to his cramped sleeping quarters.

Jake didn't know it, but on the other side of his bunk's thin plasterboard panelling Liz Merrick had taken the cubicle next to his. Acting on Trask's instructions, she was intent on getting into his mind and following his progress through whatever esoteric activities might take place in his — and whoever else's — head or heads. Still not keen on what she was doing, Liz had nevertheless come to realize its importance.

Frustrated when Jake stayed up, she had tried to wait him out and failed. But as finally he went to his bunk, and tossed and turned a while before settling down, she was disturbed and came awake. Following which it became a matter of establishing telepathic rapport. As Jake grew still and his breathing deepened, so Liz concentrated on strengthening her now instinctive connection with his subconscious mind, inviting his 'detached' thoughts to mingle with her own.

Then for a while there was nothing, just a vague uneasiness of psyche as Jake's shields relaxed and his thoughts automatically sought to rearrange themselves into typical dream patterns, or perhaps into something else. And before too long Liz found herself nodding again…