Contest

Twelve strong surges of some unknown kind of energy -- the sources of which were also unknown -- had all occurred in New York City between 6:03 and 6:46 p.m.

Added to that, the first surge, which had come from somewhere inside Connecticut. Curious also was the last surge -- distinctive because it had lasted thirty-four seconds, more than three times longer than any of the others. Not to mention the four consecutive two-second surges that Marshall had underlined.

What it amounted to was a puzzle, a puzzle Marshall wanted to solve.

And Levine's news was good. The taps on Con Edison's phones had been worthwhile, if not altogether legal. The theory that large energy surges would affect local electricity systems had turned out to be correct.

Robert Charlton had led them right to the source of the energy surges.

The New York State Library.

Now they had the location. And they were going to get whatever was there.

James Marshall grinned at the thought as his Lear hit the tarmac at Newark.

----ooo0ooo------

Hawkins lowered Balthazar to the floor, resting him up against the concrete wall of the janitor's room. Then he himself collapsed, breathless, alongside the big bearded man.

'You're one heavy bastard, you know that?'

The janitor's room was a complete mess. The cyclone fence cutting across the middle of the room had been crumpled by the Karanadon. The splintered remains of smashed wooden boxes lay strewn everywhere. And without the big hydraulic door, the doorway was nothing more than a gaping hole in the wall.

Hawkins glanced at Balthazar by his side. He wasn't looking good. Eyes still badly bloodshot. A red rash forming on the surrounding skin. Bubbles of saliva still running through his bushy beard.

Balthazar groaned, and then as if testing himself, he put a hand to the floor to get up, but immediately fell awkwardly back against the wall.

They would have to hole up here for a while. But first, Hawkins thought, he had to do something about that doorway.

At last, Selexin got up and walked across the elevator and stared at the massive body of the unconscious Karanadon. He bent down and peered at the long white fangs that protruded from the jet-black snout.

He made a face of pure disgust. 'Hideous,' he said. 'Truly hideous.'

Swain was holding Holly in his lap. She had gone to sleep quickly, complaining of a terrible headache. 'Yeah, not too bright, either,' he said. 'Have you ever seen one before? Up close?'

'No. Never.'

Swain nodded and they both just stared at the gigantic black beast in silence. Then he said, 'So what do we do? Do we kill it? Can we kill it?'

'I do not know,' Selexin shrugged. 'No-one has ever done this before.'

Swain offered a crooked smile and spread his hands. 'What can I say?'

Selexin frowned, not comprehending. 'I am sorry, but I am afraid I do not understand. What exactly can you say?'

'Don't worry. It's just a saying.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah,' Swain said, 'like 'Fuck you'.'

Selexin blushed. 'Oh, yes. That. Well, I had to say something. My life was in the balance too, you know.'

'Hell of a thing to say to something like that,' Swain nodded at the Karanadon.

'Oh, well...'

'But it was pretty bold. And I needed it. Thanks.'

'Think nothing of it.'

'Well, thanks anyway,' Swain said. 'By the way, are you allowed to do that? Allowed to help me?'

'Well,' Selexin said, 'technically, no. I am not supposed to help you physically in any battle -- whether against another contestant or the Karanadon. But considering what Bellos has done by bringing hoods into the Presidian, then, to use another of your sayings, I think that all gambling has been cancelled.'

'Huh?'

'Is that not how you say it? 'All gambling has been cancelled.' It means that the rules no longer apply.'

'I think what you're trying to say is, All bets are off,' Swain said gently. 'But you were close. Very close.'

Selexin preened at that, pleased with himself.

Swain turned back to the Karanadon. The long spiked bristles on the beast's back were rising and falling in time with its loud, strained breathing. It was absolutely enormous.

'So can we kill it?'

'I thought you did not kill defenceless victims,' Selexin said.

'That only counts for people.'

'Balthazar was not a person, and you did not kill him. He is amorphic, remember. As a matter of fact, I am sure that you would be rather surprised at Balthazar's true form--'

Swain said, 'All right. Only for things that look like people, then. And besides,' he looked at the Karanadon, 'Balthazar wasn't going to rip my head off if he decided to fight back.'

Selexin looked as if he was about to object but stopped himself. He merely said, 'Okay.'

'So. What do you think? Can we kill it?' Swain asked.

'I don't see why not. But what will you kill it with?'

They surveyed the elevator. There wasn't much to be found by way of weapons. The roof of the lift had been made of thin plasterboard and one whole half of it had simply disappeared, destroyed by the Karanadon's fall. Large jagged shards of frosted plastic from the fluorescent lights lay strewn across the floor. Swain picked one up. In his hand, it looked like a pretty pathetic weapon.

Selexin shrugged. 'It could work. Then again, it might not do anything except wake it up.'

'Hmm,' Swain didn't like the thought of that.

He didn't want to rouse the Karanadon. It was fine now. Out cold. But for how long? And killing something that was bigger and stronger than a grizzly bear, by hand, with a shard of plastic, somehow didn't seem very likely.

At that moment, the Karanadon's right claw reached up lazily and swatted at something buzzing around its snout. Then the claw resumed its position by the creature's side and the big beast continued its slumber as if nothing had happened.

Swain watched it intently. Frozen.

The Karanadon snorted loudly, shuffled onto its side, rolled over.

'You know, upon further reflection, I am not so sure that killing it is a very good idea,' Selexin whispered.

'I was just thinking the same thing myself,' Swain said. 'Come on, let's go.' He stood up and lifted Holly.

'Come on, honey. Time to go.'

She stirred groggily, '-- my head hurts.'

'Where to?' Selexin asked.

'Up,' Swain said, pointing to the big hole in the roof of the elevator.

After heaving the outer elevator doors open, Swain looked out into the musty yellow gloom to see row upon row of bookshelves stretching away to his left and right.

It was Sub-Level Two.

The Stack.

They were standing on what was left of the roof of the destroyed elevator, five feet below the floor level of Sub-Level Two. The concrete bottom of the elevator shaft, it seemed, was still a fair way below Sub-Level