Trask nodded. 'Yes, but please don't spoil things by lying to me on either one of them.'
'To you?' Turchin raised that eyebrow again. 'Do you think that's likely, Ben?'
'No, because I know it isn't possible,' said the other. 'I was reminding you of that fact, that's all.'
'I don't need reminding,' the Premier told him. 'And I say again, I'm not here to lie to you but to ask for your help. And now you ask how I know so much. Very well, then listen:
'When our Russian equivalent of your E-Branch failed — and failed so very spectacularly at the hands of Harry Keogh — then ESP as a weapon was largely discredited and the Russian organization disbanded. Or at least it was 'officially' disbanded. For our military commanders, down-to-earth fellows who would rather put their faith in conventional spying techniques, wanted nothing more to do with it. Which made it an ideal tool for a Premier who —'
'—Who was pretty much powerless but desperate to keep an eye on things,' Trask finished it for him. 'You yourself, Gustav. You are now in charge of the Opposition!'
'Covertly, yes. What's left of it,' Turchin nodded.
'And you've been using your mindspies to watch us?'
'Don't look so hurt, Ben! Haven't you been watching me and mine?'
Trask thought about it and grinned… and was serious again in a moment. 'But you still haven't told me why you asked my HQ if I was attending the conference?'
The other smiled. 'It was my way of telling you that I was attending, without spelling out a request to meet with you.'
'Still sharp as a tack,' Trask said. And: 'Okay. So, as you now know, I too have a problem… shit, I mean the whole world has a problem! Three of them, and big ones. But yours has to be urgent, too, and probably personal, else you wouldn't be taking chances talking to me. Obviously we need to make a deal, and we will, a mutually beneficial arrangement. But I can't do or promise anything until I know what your problem is.'
'Urgent, yes, definitely,' said Turchin. 'But personal? Not any longer, not after what you have told me. For it seems to me our problems mesh, becoming one and the same. Very well, I know one of yours — or ours, as it now appears — and the worst of them at that: that there are vampires in our world. But somehow I think there's a lot more than that to it. Am I right?'
'A tangled skein, yes,' Trask nodded. 'But synchronous, all coming together at the same time. And meanwhile our time is flying. So okay, you first Just what is your problem, comrade?'
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX Dilemmas, Dreams, And Deadspeak
'My problems, plural, are not so simple,' said Gustav Turchin. 'Suvorov told a handful of his military cronies that he was onto something big,' also that he'd probably be incommunicado for a while, but in the event he was gone for too long they should come to me for answers. Well, some eighteen months ago they started to ask questions, not too many, for with Suvorov out of the way they had been playing their own hands. These are people with small armies of their own, funded by the drugs trade, I suspect, for they certainly can't be getting it through official channels. Why not? Because the bank is broke.' Anyway, sooner or later they'll become more insistent, and I'm the one whom they'll squeeze for information. Obviously I don't want to tell them anything about Perchorsk, so what can I tell them?
'Next problem:
'The Perchorsk complex is still dry, the Gate stands open, and the Wamphyri are back in Sunside/Starside. Which means, of course, that the Gate has to be closed. But how, since Mikhail Suvorov's gang of criminal 'engineers' are still in control up there, standing guard on the place and waiting for his return? Which brings up another question: how long before some of them decide to follow him through the Gate?
'Well, despite that the complex is isolated, remote, still I can't attack it. Even if I had the military muscle I wouldn't dare use it for
fear of attracting the rest of Suvorov's 'colleagues' to Perchorsk. There you have it: it's a vicious circle, and frankly I can't see any easy way to break out of it.'
'Me neither,' said Trask, frowning. 'But that doesn't mean it's hopeless. In E-Branch I have a good many first-class problem-solvers, and I promise I'll do what I can. But first let me get it straight. No one else knows about Sunside/Starside's mineral riches?'
'Now that Suvorov is dead, no. Not that I'm aware of.'
'And there are no documents to lead anyone in that direction?'
'None that I know of.' Turchin shook his head.
'Then what it boils down to is this: you've got to find a way to tell Mikhail Suvorov's cronies he's dead, while simultaneously ensuring that they don't go looking for him.'
'What?' Turchin was at once alarmed. 'And without telling them how or where he died, surely — that is, if you would save Nathan's world from uttermost destruction! For if you think for a moment they wouldn't go searching for Suvorov, you're wrong. They would. And they would see what they would see, and having seen it… then they would turn a whole world into a nuclear, chemical, and biological wasteland!'
'Zfthey managed to get back here to tell about it,' said Trask. 'But in any case you're right: eventually we'll have to get into Perchorsk and close the Gate, for good this time.'
'Precisely. Until which time the problems remain…'
Trask was silent for a moment, then said, 'As for the one we've just formulated, how to get into Perchorsk and close the Gate: I may soon have the answer to that one at least. But not right now. It's something I'm working on.'
'Harry Keogh could have done it,' said Turchin knowingly, perhaps wistfully.
'Harry's dead,' said Trask.
'But Nathan isn't/ said Turchin. 'And he owes me.'
Trask shook his head. 'No, Nathan can't help us. Not right now. He has problems of his own, in Sunside/Starside. And there isn't any way we can contact him.'
But didn't you say you were working on something?'
'Something, someone, yes. Don't ask me any more about it.'
Turchin nodded. 'I see…'
'But don't lose hope,' Trask told him. 'Like I said, we'll do what we can. Meanwhile you'll have to sit tight, play dumb.'
'Play dumb?' Turchin snorted. 'I may be the Premier, but I can't hold these people off forever! Suvorov and a good many men, scientist and soldier both, have gone missing and they believe I have the answers. And when I won't supply them, then they'll think I'm involved.'
'Then keep out of their way for as long as you can.'
'I intend to,' said Turchin. 'That is the other reason I'm here in Brisbane. Because it keeps me out of Russia. And that's why those 'friends' of mine in the other car, those—'
'Those goons?'
'—Why those goons are here, yes.' Turchin tried to smile but it was a futile effort. 'To make sure I'll find my way back home again. Hub!'
'You could seek political asylum.'
'Which might solve my problem, but it wouldn't solve ours, yours, Russia's, or the world's.'
'So what will you do?'
'These conferences look like they'll go on forever. Certainly for the rest of this year. Here, and in London, Brussels, Rio de Janeiro, Calcutta, you name it. I shall attend them all, one after the other if that's at all feasible. And of course I shall sweat and worry, and wait for you to come up with an answer.'
'And at the same time do something for me,' said Trask. 'Ah, yes! Your problems/ said Turchin. 'I had almost forgotten that this isn't a one-sided affair. So then, what can I do for you?'
'It's all part of the same problem,' Trask told him. 'Remember that and it might give you an incentive. First,
