And then a strange sensation overtook me. Maybe it was the lack of sleep or my nervous state in general. I imagined that the elevator shaft in the center of the building was the vortex of a whirlpool. Try as I might, the inward spiral was swooshing me along into its square yellow maw. It had perhaps licked out at me as I brooded aboard the Whimsea, as fine and subtle as the mycelium of wood-pulp fungus, hair-thin and stretching many yards, invisible. Once in the factory compound it had licked out again, like a rainbow of promise or the dry creek bed, the arroyo followed by the thirsty prospector. Once inside the building it was stronger and stronger, until now it resembled the lead tentacle of a giant squid, wrapped around my torso and drawing me in toward the gnashing beak amidst the folds of slimy muscle.
I had decided, upon smelling the faint booze breath, not to meet Mutt and Jeff, the guys I first saw on the pier who spoke briefly in my hidden presence., They didn't sound that friendly to begin with, and the metallic clack I'd heard as they rounded the far comer of the pier didn't add to their collective image. The best thing for me to do was to snake all the way back again to the other end of the building. I would find a hidey-hole there, deep behind or underneath some crates or skids or barrels, and wait. Wait till some bodyguard opened the door again, allowing me to dash by him and out. Wait till dawn, and Jim called the fuzz. Wait till hell froze over, but not to-
A giant spider jumped on my face. It clung across the front of my skull with menacing ferocity. It squeezed its inky legs down tight.
A hand.
Then two quick belly chops and a kidney punch and I was down and doing a slow roll. But before I could yell the least little thing the spider came back, jumped upon me again, and found my mouth. It snuggled down and made a nest there, tight. I couldn't speak. I couldn't even breathe.
There were two of them. I saw a light flicker between cupped hands. Flashlight again. Strong arms had pinned mine behind me. They helped me to my feet. I wasn't eager. Who was it? Probably the watchman by the cage. I had made a small sound and been ferreted out. I didn't think it was Mutt and Jeff. I smelled no booze, and also they were, as far as my crude and damaged reckoning could place them, still at the far terminus of the big brick barn.
A whisper said: 'Walk forward slowly until I tell you to stop. Keep your hands up above your head where I can see them at all times. If you drop them or try to turn I'll kill you before you know what's happened. Nod your head to show you understand?
I did. I felt the cold pressure of a gun muzzle in my spine.
'Now walk forward slowly where I point the light.'
He pointed it at the doorway to the stairs, and I started walking. The pressure left my back but I didn't try anything. The episode in the barn had taught me how foolish that course of action was. The man-and it wasn't the same one who'd gotten the drop on me earlier-certainly held the pistol aimed square at me.
'Open it and start down.'
I swung the door back and entered. On the fourth or fifth step down the door snapped shut behind us. Then it grew light. I could see the winding staircase I was descending. Lights were on. Apparently it was a strict policy to show no lights on the warehouse's ground floor.
We kept walking around and around, down and down. Who was down there? What monstrous hairy arthropod clutched at the middle of the great web, waiting for me? Was it Sydney Greenstreet, complete with cigar and fez? Emperor Ming? The Rockettes?
I had a feeling it was none of the above.
'Keep going,' the voice said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
We walked under the reflector lights of the lower level. Here the huge concrete pillars were much heavier and more numerous, about twelve feet apart and arranged-in grids to hold up the entire center portion of the warehouse above. There was only one row of lights on; the pillars and old spools and drums that cluttered the place disappeared gradually into the darkness on each side of us. The place was big. Not as big as the vast amphitheater above, but big nevertheless. Ahead of us was a metal-clad door hung with counterweights on pulleys. I sure didn't like the look of it.
'Stop,' he whispered.
We waited. I expected to feel a tap on the back of my neck, then a blinding white flash. Then nothing, because I would be dead.
But nothing happened.
'Who's there?' he asked. His voice had an anxious tone, which surprised me.
'Who is that behind us?'
No answer. I then heard the click of his flashlight. It was probably as good a chance as I'd get, and I was just about to begin my spin and high kick when he told me to move on. There went my last chance. We stopped in front of the metal fire door..
'Knock on it. Hard.'
I did.
'Who is it?' said a barely audible voice.
'Hartzos. I found a spy, John.'
'Police?'
'Don't know. He knocked Micky cold out on the dock, then worked his way in.'
'Where were you, Hartzos?'
'He must've come in when I was with Micky. I got to get back up quick. Want help with him?'
'No. Step back.' I thought the voice was faintly familiar…A The heavy door slid open. It was almost dark beyond; A flashlight shone on our faces.
'Well?' asked Hartzos.
Still the man with the light was silent.
'John, do you want me to stay?'
'Uh uh,' was the grunted reply. I heard the sound of fading footsteps behind me as Hartzos the watchman returned to his post. They certainly had the place sealed off effectively. Two tall fences with barbed wire, a series of deserted buildings, a lower level of an old wharf with solid rock walls, and a swarm of silent `guards that prowled around in the pitch black.
The man grabbed me by my upper arm hard and I felt a gun in my ribs, He spun me fast around and up against the doorjamb as he flicked off the flashlight. I heard the big door slide shut and John and I were alone. I didn't like the feeling one bit. When I next heard his voice it was right in my ear: 'Well, well, Doctor Adams, you certainly dawnt seem to have such bleedin' keen luck mucking about in old buildings, eh?'
'You!'
'Shhhhhh! Now you listen good these next few seconds or we're both dead, hear?'
'I hear. But tell me who you are-'
'Shhhhh!' He jammed me in the rib cage hard with the gun. The voice commenced again, in a whisper almost delicate for all the menace it conveyed.
'Who I am's not important. Savin' your neck should be, and your chances aren't good. If they find out we've met before we're both dead. You've never laid eyes on me.'
'Right. Never laid-'
'C'mon!'
He marched me through a narrow hall into the room beyond. I will never forget that room. As I entered it I was almost buoyant with hope that I'd run into my friend from the barn again. But one glance around the dismal chamber with the damp rock walls was enough to take the tar out of anybody. The room was perhaps twenty by thirty feet. The ceiling was low. It was full of junk: old cable spools, machinery, and crates and pallets. A doorway in the far wall led to another room or passageway that was dark. What dominated the room was a chute that projected at an angle from above. At the chute's end was a long narrow table of sheet metal with wooden sides to it. It was a dressing table for fish. Along the sides of this table were troughs, no doubt for the fishheads and offal
