'Can't promise you that.' Light blazed the land again.
'I'll answer as many as I can, though,' Kline added, and the thunder was nearer this time.
'Tell your Arab friends to go on ahead.' Halloran indicated Monk and Palusinski. 'You two follow behind. And don't watch us—keep your eyes on those slopes and the road.'
'Ain't nothin' here to worry us,' Monk protested.
'Just do as I say,' Halloran snapped.
Palusinski slapped a hand on the American's shoulder as if to warn him not to argue. 'You go,' the Pole said to Halloran. 'We'll follow. Everything is fine.' As the group started walking towards the house, fanning out so that Kline and Halloran were at the centre of a square formation, the first raindrops spattered the grass. Kline grinned at his protector. 'I told you it was about to rain,' he said.
The deluge broke as though by command and within seconds the men were soaked through. That didn't appear to worry Kline at all. He laughed and suddenly ran free of the formation, twisting his body around in the air, raising his arms high, fingers stretched outwards. He came to a stop facing the hurrying group, his face turned up towards the sky, mouth open wide to receive the pelting raindrops. He slowly lowered his head and arms and something in his gleeful expression brought the others to a halt.
Kline pointed behind them. 'Look at the lake!' he shouted over the downpour.
They turned to look back.
The broad expanse of water, suddenly lit by another flickering of lightning, was a churning mass, the rainfall exploding into the surface and creating millions of tiny geysers.
After the light was spent, Halloran was left with the unnerving impression of a million fingers pushing through the surface from the other side.
26 AN ANCIENT CULTURE
They sat opposite each other in the drawing room, Kline furiously rubbing at his dark curly hair, grinning across at Halloran as he did so.
'Refreshing, huh?' he said. 'I love the rain. It purges the flesh. Pure and fresh, uncontaminated by human effluence. You ought to get dry. Don't want my bodyguard coming down with pneumonia.'
'I'll take a bath before I turn in.' He realised ruefully there would be scant time for sleeping if he were to keep to his own schedule.
The room was like most others at Neath—sparsely furnished and cold in atmosphere, even the roaring fire Kline had ordered to be lit infusing little spiritual warmth to the surrounds. Save for the fire glow there was no other light source in the room, for Kline had switched it off moments before. On a pedestal in one corner, its face animated by dancing shadows, stood the stone figure of a robed woman; the eyes were wide and staring, her hair swept back in almost mediaeval style. Above the mantel over the fireplace was a frieze depicting chariots and soldiers on the march; its colours, almost lost in the shadows, were of blue and white with the palest of reds for contrast.
'Made of shell and limestone,' Kline said when he noticed Halloran studying the frieze while Khayed tended the fire and Daoud went off to fetch a towel. 'Part of the Royal Standard of Ur. See one of the enemy being crushed by a chariot? There was plenty of gore in art and literature even in those distant days. People's taste doesn't change much, does it? You know anything at all about the Sumerians, Halloran?' With the feeling he was about to find out, Halloran shook his head. 'History was never one of my strong points.'
'Not even ancient history? I think you'd have found it fascinating., 'I'm more concerned with what's going on right now. You agreed to answer some questions.'
'Sure. Just relax. Let me tell you something about these Sumerians first, okay? Never too late to learn, right?' Daoud returned with a towel at that moment, which he handed to his employer.
'You can go ahead and feed Palusinski,' Kline told him. 'Our Polish friend has been drooling all evening.'
The Arab grinned. 'I have kept for him some tasty morsels,' he replied and beside him, having completed his task at the fireplace, Khayed chuckled. Halloran noted that, unlike yesterday, Daoud had not bothered to disguise his understanding of the English language. Both Arabs gave a slight bow and left the room.
Kline dried his hair with the towel, his rain-soaked jeans and sweater apparently not bothering him.
Halloran watched his client, tiny orange glows fluttering in Kline's dark eyes, his features sharp as if he were eager for conversation, with no thought for the lateness of the hour. One side of the psychic's body was in shadow, the side close to the fire warmly lit, shades of yellow dancing on his skin. His chair and body cast one corner of the room into deep, wavering gloom, but from its midst Halloran could see and feel those enlarged eyes of the stone woman staring at him.
Kline draped the towel over his head like a shawl so that only the tip of his nose and chin caught the glow from the fire. 'Did you know they invented the written word' At Halloran's quizzical expression he added, 'The Sumerians.'
'No, I didn't know that,' Halloran answered tonelessly.
'Yep. And they were the first to count in units of ten and sixties. That's how we got sixty minutes to an hour and sixty seconds in a minute. They applied it to time, y'see. It's why we divide a circle into 360
degrees, too. Not only that, but those old boys invented the wheel. How about that?'
'Kline, I'm not really -'
'You might be.' The retort was sharp, but a hand was immediately raised, palm outwards, to indicate no offence was meant. 'They knew about algebra and geometry, even had some idea of anatomy and surgery. I'm talking about 3000 BC, Halloran, 3000 BC and earlier. Can you beat that? Shit, the rest of the world was barely past Neolithic!'
'You haven't told me why you went out on the lake tonight.'
'Huh? I thought I had.'
'No.'
'Okay, okay. Look, would you believe me if I told you that the lake acts as some kind of conductor to my psychic power? That my psyche draws strength from certain physical sources. You know how a divining rod in the hands of special people is attracted towards an underground spring or subterranean lake, how it vibrates with energy and bends towards the source? My mind does the same thing, only it also absorbs psychic energy from these places.'
'That's impossible. You're mixing the physical with the psychical.'
'And you naturally assume there's no connection between the two. Never heard of kinetic energy, Halloran? How d'you imagine certain gifted people can move inanimate objects through the power of their own minds? It's that very connection I'm talking about, the link between the physical and the psychical. There's energy in everything around us, but energy itself has no form, no substance—it's an incorporeal thing, just like our own mindwave patterns. Is it getting through to you, or are you the type that never wants to understand?' Kline was leaning forward so that his whole face was in the shadow of the cowl. Halloran did not respond to the last question.
'It's the reason I bought Neatly' Kline went on. 'In these grounds I have my own psychic generator—the lake itself, one huge receptacle for spiritual force. You saw for yourself tonight how the lightning was drawn to it, and how those mysterious properties of the waters reacted. There are hundreds, maybe thousands, of such fields on our earth, places that different races have worshipped from, built their shrines on, paid homage to, since man first became aware of the other side of his nature. They still do to this day.
And very few really understand why.' He sat back and the towel swung away from his jaw. He was smiling.
'In some locations, metaphysical and physical deposits become almost one, and that's because both kinds of energy are related. The moon affects the minds of men, ask any psychiatrist or psychologist, as well as influencing the earth's tides. Vast mineral deposits—ores, oil, gas or whatever—have that potential because they're all sources of energy. How d'you think I locate them for Magma? My mind's attracted to them because it's from these sources that it draws sustenance, the same way an animal can sniff food from great distances, a shark can sense blood in the water from miles away. Instinct or mind-power'? Or is it all the same thing?' Halloran understood what he was being told, could even appreciate that there was some kind of weird logic to it, but Kline's dissertation was difficult to accept.