roar of rage, he threw him through the windows. The glass shattered and Larson screamed as he fell to his death on the street below.
The blood was pouring from Volkov's shoulder and from the wound in his chest. He brought his hand to it and it came away wet with blood. He staggered and braced himself against the wall, his breath rasping in his throat. Even though he was in human form, Volkov started to whimper like a dog. Linda Craven lay unconscious on the floor. Volkov moved towards her, unsteadily, gasping for breath, blood frothing on his mouth. He collapsed just as he reached her, falling down on top of her.
Moreau wasn't taking any chances. He did not think Wells would betray him to the temporal agents, but there were ways of making men talk who didn't wish to and if they put Wells through a debriefing session, Wells would have no choice but to reveal Moreau's hideout above the apothecary shop. It was time to move. Lin Tao would accompany him, leaving the apothecary shop in Jasmine's hands. If the temporal agents questioned Jasmine, she would not be able to tell them anything, since she had been kept ignorant of the whole affair. Or at least so Lin Tao and Moreau believed, not realizing that since the first time she accidentally overheard them talking, she had made a habit of going upstairs to bed and then sneaking hack down quietly to eavesdrop on their discussions. They told her they would be away for some time and that, if she needed any help, she could count on Chan, a young member of the Green Dragon tong who would stay with her while they were gone. Chan would protect her and just to be on the safe side, they made sure he did not know where they were going, so even if Wells proved unable to convince the temporal agents and they traced Moreau to the apothecary shop, the trail would end there. However, neither of them had counted on Jasmine's growing sense of independence, nor had Lin Tao anticipated the full effect of western culture on his late-blooming granddaughter.
To both men, Jasmine was no more than a child, sheltered and naive, and in some respects, she was just that. But at nineteen, she possessed the body if not the emotional development of a full-grown woman. And though, in some respects, Jasmine had led a sheltered life, she had lived in two widely divergent cultures and knew more about the world than many other young women her age. What she didn't know, she filled in with her imagination, fueled by her private fantasies and by the novels she purchased without telling her grandfather-for fear that he might disapprove-and read at night in the privacy of her room above the shop.
And Lin Tao would indeed have strongly disapproved of the works his granddaughter had chosen to complete her western education, novels such as Gustave Flaubert's Madame Bovary and Thomas Hardy's Return of the Native and Tess of the D'Urbervilles, works that were highly controversial in the atmosphere of Victorian morality, works which dealt openly and frankly with themes such as lust, adultery, illegitimate birth and murder. Flaubert had been brought to trial on the basis of his novel's alleged immorality and narrowly acquitted and Hardy's work had scandalized proper Victorians. Jasmine had even read Dorian Gray, by Oscar Wilde, but it was Hardy who had captured her imagination, with his tragically romantic heroines. Their grand frustrated passions became Jasmine's own. In her mind, she and Moreau were lovers linked by destiny, despite the fact that Moreau was completely ignorant of her feelings towards him. That made it even more romantic and now there was the added impetus of her 'lover' being in danger. Like her literary role models. Jasmine was prepared to throw everything else aside and give way before the torrent of her feelings. But unlike the women of Hardy and Flaubert, she was Chinese, with oriental values, and her outward delicacy was not an indication of fragility. She was not going to remain idle at home while the two people she caredl about the most went out to risk their lives. The decision made, escaping from the watchful gaze of Chan was simple. She made an infusion of spearmint and chamomile, sweetened with honey. Into Chan's cup, she stirred ten drops of her grandfather's favorite sleeping draught-a tincture of opium and belladonna. The honey masked its bitter flavor and the opium-laced tea quickly did its work. The moment Chan dozed off, she ran upstairs and changed her clothing, then slipped out of the shop. She had heard them talking and she knew where they had gone. What she did not know, exactly, was what she would do when she arrived there. She had never before been to a house of prostitution.
The last thing Neilson expected when Amy Robbins opened the door of the house on Mornington Place was to find Sgt. Christine Brant standing just inside the doorway, armed with a disruptor pistol.
Amy Robbins rushed up to Wells and threw her arms around his neck. 'Oh, thank God!' she said. 'Thank God you're safe! They told me that you had been abducted!'
'I'm perfectly all right,' said Wells. 'What's happening here? Who is this woman?'
'She's one of us,' said Neilson quickly. 'What's going on? There was no one at the command post-'
'We're blown,' she said. 'We've moved the command past here.'
'What? How?'
'Didn't Larson and Craven tell you? Where are they'?' 'I haven't seen them,' Neilson said, frowning.
'What do you mean, you haven't seen them? Didn't they contact you at the crime lab?'
Neilson shook his head, mystified. 'No, something came up and I left early. There's been another murder, a nineteen-yearold male. It looks like Hesketh was responsible. 'The deceased was gay.”
'The deceased was gay?' said Wells.
'It's just an expression, Mr. Wells,' said Neilson. 'It means the dead man was a homosexual.'
'Is that what you Americans call it?' Wells said. 'I shall have to remember that if I ever go to America. If someone asks me how I'm feeling, I would not wish to give the wrong impression.'
'Please, Mr. Wells,' said Christine Brant impatiently. 'Go on, Scott. -
'Well, Doyle was at the lab. He received a message from Brant Stoker and rushed out. The note said Stoker had some information about the murders. I thought I should get back right away and let Colonel Steiger know, but there was no one at the hotel. I saw that the arms locker had been opened and I was afraid something had gone wrong. I was just about to leave when Wells arrived, looking for us.'
'Looking for us?' Christine said. 'Did you search him?' 'Search him'?' Neilson said, glancing at Wells and then back at her. 'What for?'
'They've been picking our people off one at a time.' she said. 'Davis is dead, Rizzo’s gone, and now Larson and Craven are missing! Moreau could have planted a homing transmitter on him! You could have led them right to us!'
She spun the astonished Wells around and shoved him up against a wall, then started frisking him quickly and professionally.
'Really, madame!' Wells said, blushing. 'I must protest! This is highly improper! I assure you that I am concealing nothing!'
I'm sorry, Mr. Wells.' she said. 'I just can't take that chance.'
'You're probably going to have to,' Neilson said. 'If Moreau was going to do that, you can be sure he'd plant a bug you'd never find without a full body scan. Besides, if what Wells told me is true, Moreau is on our side.'
'What?'
Quickly, Neilson recounted everything that Wells had told him, glancing at Wells from time to time for confirmation. 'So with nowhere else to go,' he finished, 'we came here. Unless something had gone seriously wrong, I figured the house would still be under surveillance and I could contact whoever was on duty here to find out what the hell had happened. When I didn't spot anyone outside, I started to get a little worried, but-'
'I knew I was forgetting something!' Brant said, rushing to the window. She parted the curtains and gazed outside for several moments, then turned around to face them once again, a grim expression on her face. 'Ransome was supposed to be on surveillance duty outside. I was wondering why he didn't warn me you were coming. Now there's no sign of him. He wouldn't leave his post. Something must have happened to him.'
Neilson glanced quickly at Wells.
Wells shook his head. 'If anything has happened to your friend.' he said, 'I swear to you that I did not have anything to do with it. Neither did Moreau.'
Neilson's. 45 was in his hand. 'I wish I had your confidence.' he said.
'Oh, Herbert!' Amy said. 'What's happening?'
'You two had better go into the study,' Bram said to them, checking the windows once again.
Wells quickly sized up the situation. 'If my home is about to be invaded, I am not about to hide quaking in my study while-'
'Mr. Wells, please. I don't have time to argue!' she said. 'Scott, get them in there and make sure they stay in there until I tell them to come out!'
