Necroscope

features.

Dragosani nodded, as if he silently confirmed something or other, and said: 'I can see you've been expecting me.'

'Yes, I thought I might be seeing you,' Vlady carefully answered.

Dragosani decided against beating about the bush. If Vlady failed to produce the right answers he would simply kill him. He probably would anyway, eventually. 'Very well, I'm here,' he said. 'Now tell me: how's it going to be?'

Vlady was a small dark man and normally open as a book. That was the impression he achieved, anyway. Now he raised an eyebrow, put on an expression of mild surprise. 'How's what going to be?' he asked, innocently.

'Look, let's not fool around,' said Dragosani. 'You probably already know exactly why I've come here. That's what you're paid for: your ability to see things in advance. So I'll ask you again: how is it going to be?'

Vlady drew back, scowled. 'With Borowitz, you mean?'

'For starters, yes.'

Vlady's face grew strangely impassive, almost cold. 'He'll die,' he said, without emotion. 'Tomorrow, at midday or thereabouts. A heart attack. Except — ' and he paused and frowned.

'Except?'

Vlady shrugged. 'A heart attack,' he repeated.

Dragosani nodded, sighed, relaxed a little. 'Yes,' he said, 'that's how it will be. And what about me — and you?'

'I don't do readings for myself,' said Vlady. 'It's tempting, of course, but far too frustrating. To know the future and not be able to change it. Also, it's frightening. As for you… that's a bit odd.'

Dragosani didn't like the sound of that. He put down his drink and leaned forward. 'What's odd?' he asked. This might be very important to him.

Vlady took up both of their glasses and poured more vodka. 'First let's get something straight, you and I,' he said. 'Comrade, I'm not your rival. I have no ambitions

in respect of E-Branch. None at all. I know Borowitz had me in mind for the job — along with yourself — but I'm just not interested. I think you should know that.'

'You mean you'll step aside for me?'

Tm not stepping aside for anyone,' the other shook his head. 'I just don't want the job, that's all. I don't envy any man that job. Yuri Andropov won't rest until he's crushed the lot of us — even if it takes the rest of his lifetime! Frankly, I wish to hell I was out of it altogether. Did you know I was a trained architect, Dragosani? Well, I am. Read the future? I'd far prefer to read the plans of great buildings any day.'

'Why do you tell me this?' Dragosani was curious. 'It has nothing to do with anything.'

'Yes it has. It has something to do with living. And I want to live. You see, Dragosani, I know that you will have something to do with Borowitz's death. With his 'heart attack'. And if you can tackle him and win, which you will, then what chance would I have? I'm not brave, Dragosani, and I'm not stupid. E-Branch is all yours…'

Again Dragosani leaned forward. His eyes were pricks of red light gleaming through the dark lenses of his spectacles. 'But your job is to tell Borowitz this sort of thing, Igor,' he rasped. 'Especially — this sort of thing. Are you saying you haven't told him? Or does he in fact already know that I'll be… involved?'

Vlady shook himself, sat up straighter. For a moment he'd felt almost hypnotised by Dragosani. The man's gaze was like that of a snake. A wolf? Something not quite human, anyway. 'I really don't know why I've told you any of this,' he finally said. 'I mean, for all I know the old warhorse might even have sent you here!'

'But wouldn't you know it if he had?' said Dragosani. 'Isn't that something your talent would have foreseen?'

'I can't see everything!' Vlady snapped.

Dragosani nodded. 'Hmm! Well, he didn't send me.

Now tell me 'truthfully: does he know he's going to die tomorrow? And if so, does he know that I'll be involved? Well, I'm waiting…'

Vlady bit his lip, shook his head. 'He doesn't know,' he mumbled.

'Why haven't you told him?'

Two reasons. First, it wouldn't change anything even if he did know. Second, I hate the old bastard! I have a fiancee and want to be married. I've wanted it for ten years. But Borowitz says no. He needs me to keep my wits sharp. He doesn't want my talent dulled. Too much sex might ruin me, he says! Damn the old bastard — he rations me with my own fiancee!'

Dragosani sat back and laughed out loud. Vlady saw the gape of his mouth and the length of his teeth and once more felt that he talked with some strange animal rather than a man. 'Oh, I can believe that!' Dragosani's laughter finally rumbled into silence. 'Yes, that's just typical of him. Well, Igor,' he nodded knowingly, 'I think you can now safely go ahead with your wedding arrangements. Yes, just as soon as you like.'

'But you'll want to keep me in the branch, eh?' Vlady's tone remained sour.

'Of course I will,' Dragosani nodded. 'You're much too valuable to be a simple architect, Igor Vlady — and far too talented! But the branch? That is merely a beginning. There's more to life than that. After this is over I'm going on and up. And you can come with me.'

Vlady's response to that was a blank stare. Suddenly Dragosani was sure he was hiding something. 'You were going to tell me what you've read in my future,' he reminded. 'Now that we've dealt with Borowitz, I think that would be a good idea. I think you said there was something… odd?'

'Odd, yes,' Vlady agreed. 'But of course I could be wrong. Anyway, you'll know all about it — tomorrow.'

And he gave a nervous twitch at Dragosani's startled expression.

'What? What's that about tomorrow?' the necromancer came slowly to his feet, uncoiling from his chair. 'Have you been wasting my time and confusing me with trivialities when all the time you knew there was something in store for me tomorrow? When, tomorrow? And where?'

Tomorrow night — at the Chateau,' said Vlady. 'Some thing big, but I don't know what it will be.'

Dragosani began to pace the floor, searched his own mind for clues. 'KGB? Is it likely they'll find Borowitz's body that fast? I doubt it. Even if they did, why should they suspect the branch? Or me? After all, it will only have been a 'heart attack'. That could happen to anyone. Or is it someone inside the branch itself? Maybe you, Igor, having second thoughts about your loyalties?' (Vlady hastily shook his head in denial.) 'Will it be sabotage?' Dragosani continued to pace. 'And if so what form of sabotage?' He angrily shook his head. 'No, no, I can't see that! Damn it, come on, Igor you know more than you're saying! What is it, exactly, that you've seen?'

'You don't seem to understand!' Vlady shouted. 'Man, I'm not superhuman. I can't be exact all the time!' It was true and Dragosani knew it; Vlady's voice betrayed his own exasperation; he, too, wished he had an answer. 'Sometimes things are very vague — like that time when Andrei Ustinov got his. I knew there would be a ruckus that night and warned Borowitz about it, but I couldn't for the life of me say who or what would be involved! It's the same this time, too. There'll be big trouble tomorrow and you'll be right in the middle of it. It will come from outside and it will be… big trouble! Of that much I'm certain, but that's all.'

'Not quite all,' said Dragosani, ominously. 'I still don't know what you meant by 'odd'. Why do you avoid the issue? Will I be in any danger?'

'Yes,' said Vlady, 'a great deal of danger. And not just you but everyone at the Chateau.'

'Damn it, man!' Dragosani slammed his fist down on the table. 'You make it sound like we'll all be dead men!'

Vlady's face slowly lost some of its dark colour. He half turned his face away but Dragosani leaned over him, clasped his cheeks in the fingers of one great hand, drew his averted face and the O-shape of his quivering mouth back towards him. He looked deep into the other's frightened eyes. 'Are you quite sure you've told me everything?' he asked, forming his words slowly and very carefully. 'Can you not at least try to explain what you meant by your use of the word 'odd'? Is there a chance, perhaps, that you've also foreseen my death for tomorrow?'

Vlady jerked his face free and pushed back in his chair away from Dragosani. The white pressure marks of