come, and very serious-looking. And he was quite obviously highly intelligent. It was in his eyes just as it was in Trask's; a light behind them, shining out. But it was also in the high dome of his head. Jake didn't need advising of the extraordinary brain that was housed within. Chung's raven-black hair was thinning; there might even be a few strands of grey here and there. But his skin was clear and unwrinkled and his posture was ramrod-straight. He was sprightly, alert… and excited, yes. That, too, showed in his eyes.
'Hi, David/ Trask greeted him with a smile — but in a moment got down to business. 'How did it go?' he said.
'Ben/ the other nodded, then immediately fixed his attention on Jake. And Jake could see that his curiosity was intense. But Trask had seen it, too. And:
'Save it/ he told the locator, his tone of voice carrying something of a warning. 'I suggest we deal with the other matter first.' And turning to the D.O.: 'Are we scrambled?'
'Yes/ the D.O. nodded.
And Chung said, 'All bad news, I'm afraid. It's as Greenpeace and the others suspected. In fact, it's worse then anyone suspected. The Russians are still doing it, but now it's where they're doing it. You know, if we'd had Anna-Marie English in on this we could have cracked it without even leaving the HQ?'
'I know/ Trask answered, his shoulders slumping a little. 'But we don't have her, and anyway she's happier where she is — God help us all! But is it really as bad as you make out? What, yet another treaty gone up in smoke — or nuclear pollution? I suppose you'd better put me in the picture, but not on-screen. Let me have a printout.'
Chung spoke to someone off-screen, turned again to Trask. 'It'll take a few minutes. And later, when I've done a little checking, I'll also be sending you, er, a weather report? Some unexpected smog? But I'd like to check it out first and see if it's still hanging around, you know? Meanwhile, what about the other business?' His gaze switched however momentarily to Jake, then back to Trask.
Understanding Chung's 'coded' message, Trask gave a cursory nod and said, 'Do you remember what happened at E-Branch HQ when Nathan arrived in Perchorsk? I mean you personally? Do you remember how you proved his identity, or his connection?'
Chung grinned, his excitement plainly in evidence. 'Do I remember? How could I ever forget? I'm way ahead of you, Ben.' And he held up a hairbrush, showing it to Trask and Jake.
'I wasn't sure you still had it.' Trask sighed his relief. 'It wasn't in Harry's Room; I had it searched immediately after Jake… came visiting. But I knew that if you had it, it would be secure with your special items at the HQ. That's why I asked you to go and dig it out as soon as you got finished with what you were doing.'
Now the locator looked at Jake again and said, 'I suppose this is Jake Cutter?' He nodded a greeting. 'So why is he looking so — what, lost?'
Before Trask could answer, Jake leaned over him and said, 'I look so 'what, lost,' as you put it — though personally I'd prefer 'stunned' — because no one has bothered to tell me what the fuck is going on! It's okay for E-Branch to put my life in jeopardy, set me in conflict with… I don't know — vampires? Mutated things? Alien invaders that live on the blood of human beings? — but totally out of the question to tell me what it's all in aid of. The human race, perhaps? Well, great! But since I'm a member, don't
'Right first time,' said Trask. 'And on both counts. It's in aid of the human race, and no, you don't have any say in the matter.'
Chung saw now why the head of E-Branch was so cautious: as yet Jake Cutter knew very little. But Chung was already certain that Jake would have to know it all eventually. And so he said, 'That's fine for now, Ben. But if you're asking for my opinion, he'll have plenty of say in the not too distant future.'
Trask quickly held up his hand. 'We understand each other, and that's for the future — maybe. But don't say any more right now. Instead you can tell me about the brush.'
'Oh, it's active,' Chung said. 'Very definitely. Why, it's like a live thing in my hand even now!' He looked at the man's hairbrush — just a well-used wooden oval tufted with pig bristles, some of them coming loose — and smiled. But alive? From what Jake could make out the brush was about as dead as… as a piece of wood sprouting pig bristles!
'So,' said Trask, speaking to Chung. 'Can I take it you're thinking that just like once before maybe something of — well, let's for now call him a on«-friend of ours — has come back to us? But if so, come back from where? And in what form?'
'Absolutely,' Chung answered — then stopped smiling as the meaning of Trask's words sank in and he began to understand the other's caution. And: 'I think I see,' he said. 'So now we must ask ourselves whether or not it's beneficial. Is it here under the aegis of a friend, to help us, or is it here—?'
'—For something else,' Trask cut the locator short. And after staring at him for a long moment, he said, 'That's it for now, David. Stay there at the HQ. The chair's yours until we're all sorted out at this end. Okay?'
'Whatever you say,' Chung answered, his face once more inscrutable. And the D.O. blanked the screen…
'What was all that about?' Jake queried the Head of E-Branch on the way to his tent. Trask had a 'room' in the Ops vehicle but preferred a little more space. In keeping with his status, his tent was somewhat bigger than a bivouac.
'When we have a little light, I'll show you/ Trask said. 'Some of it, anyway. From which time on you'll need to be aware that you've signed the Official Secrets Act.'
'But I haven't.'' Jake said.
'But if you ever give me reason, I'll say you have,' Trask grinned his cold grin. 'And you'll have to anyway, eventually.'
Jake snorted, said, 'Could this mean you're actually going to let me in on some secret or other?'
'Sarcasm will get you nowhere,' Trask said. 'Except maybe in a whole lot of trouble.'
The camp wasn't far from the edge of a watering hole. Several large Australian night insects were fluttering, occasionally buzzing, through the smoky, flickering firelight. There were clusters of knobbly, fat-boled trees of a type Jake didn't recognize; Trask's tent stood shaded by one of these, in comparative darkness.
Trask squeezed a rubber button on a cable hanging outside the tent, and as a light glowed within he drew aside the canvas flap and a fine-mesh gauze fly screen to invite Jake in. Inside, a folding table supported Trask's briefcase, a bottle of liquor, and two glasses. There were folding chairs and a camp bed, and in a screened-off corner a portable toilet. Comfortwise it was better than a bivouac, certainly, but scarcely luxurious.
Trask sat Jake down, opened up his crammed briefcase, fumbled out a flat machine the size of a box of typing paper, and flipped a switch. The device whirred softly, and a slot opened in one end. Feeding Chung's printout into the slot, Trask said, 'It's enciphered, and this is a decoder.' 'Gadgets and ghosts,' said Jake.
'Yes,' Trask answered, 'I have to agree. This is certainly a gadget, and Chung's message is about ghosts — of a sort.'
'Are you kidding me?' Jake couldn't any longer be sure of anything.
'I suppose I am,' Trask suddenly looked tired, 'though not
necessarily. Don't you believe in ghosts, Jake?' And before the other could answer: 'Well, these ghosts are submarines. They're dead Russian subs, yes — except they're still very much alive. Another paradox? Not really. Just wait a minute and you'll see what you'll see. Meanwhile, why don't you pour us a drink? And consider yourself lucky. It's Wild Turkey.'
Jake poured; the machine whirred; eventually two sheets of paper slid from the slot, pushed out and followed by the original. One of the decoded sheets was a-large-scale map of Europe and the seas around, with numbered, circled pinpoints of reference. The other was a list of grid references, numbered to correspond with those on the map. All of the grid references were oceanic: two pinpoints in the Black Sea off Varna in Bulgaria, another off Podisma in Turkey; two more in the Tyrrhenian midway between Naples and Sardinia; one in the Atlantic off Portugal's Algarve; and three more between Iceland and Norway, south of the Arctic Circle. And there were others marked out by tiny question marks instead of dots. Looking at these little black marks on the map, and matching them with the grid references, Trask's expression was very bleak.
'Look there,' he indicated the question marks. 'As close to home as that: the Barents Sea, off Norway. Crazy!'
'Close to home?' Jake echoed him.
