Necroscope IV: Deadspeak

a man in some sort of trance. Is it, Harry? Or is it much more than it appears to be? But… it's strange, my boy, so strange. I would have talked to you about it — I wanted to — but you've been away so long, Haaarry.

That wasn't my fault, Harry told him. / couldn't keep in touch, wasn't able to. Something had happened to me — to my deadspeak — and I was cut off from everyone. And that's one of the reasons why I had to contact you now. You see, it's not just that I'd lost my deadspeak, but also my ability to use the Mobius Continuum. And I need it like I never needed it before.

The Continuum? Need it? Still Mobius wasn't entirely himself, far from it. Oh, we all need it, Harry. Indeed, without it there's nothing! It is EVERYTHING! And… and… and I'm sorry, Harry, but I have to go back there.

That's all right, Harry desperately answered, feeling Mobius's deadspeak sliding off at a tangent. And I swear I wouldn't be troubling you if it wasn't absolutely necessary, but-

It… it talks to me! Mobius's voice was an awestruck whisper, drifting, fading as his attention transferred itself elsewhere. And I think I know what it is. The only thing it can be. I have… to … go… now… Haaarry.

Another moment and he had gone, disappeared, and not even an echo remaining. So that Harry knew Mobius had returned to the one place above all others which was now forbidden to him. Into the Mobius Continuum.

Finally Harry was left alone to sleep out a night which, for all that it was dreamless, was nevertheless uneasy…

The next morning, on their way in Manolis's car to see Trevor Jordan, something which had been bothering Harry suddenly surfaced. 'Manolis,' he said, 'I'm an idiot! I should have thought of it before.'

The Greek glanced at him. 'Thought of what, Harry?'

'The KGB knew I was going to Romania. They knew it almost before I did. I mean, they were waiting for me when I landed — goons of theirs, anyway. So, someone must have told them. Someone here on Rhodes!'

For a moment Manolis looked blank, but then he grinned and slapped his thigh. 'Harry,' he said, 'you are the very strange person with the extremely weird powers — but I think you will never make the policeman! Yesterday, when you told us your story, I thought it was understood that I must arrive at this selfsame conclusion. And of course I did. My next step was to ask myself who knew you were going other than your immediate circle? Answer: no one — except the booking clerk at the airport itself! The local police are looking into it right now. If there is an answer, they will find it.'

'Good!' said Harry. 'But the point I'm making is this: the last thing I want is that someone should be waiting for me in Hungary, too. I mean, if it works out that I must go there.'

Manolis nodded. 'I understand your concern. Let's just hope the local boys turn something up.'

Neither Manolis, Harry, nor Darcy had any way of knowing that at that very moment the police were at the airport, talking to a man who worked on the passenger information desk; to him and to his brother, against whom they'd long entertained certain grudges and suspicions of their own. Talking to them, and not much caring for the answers they were getting, but sure that eventually they'd get the right ones.

At the asylum a Sister met the three and took them to Jordan's room. He had a room now as opposed to a cell: a small place with high, barred windows, and a door with a peephole. The door was locked from the outside; obviously the doctors were still a little wary. The Sister looked through the peephole and smiled, and beckoned Harry forward. He followed her example and looked into the room. Jordan was striding to and fro in the confined space, his hands clasped behind his back. Harry knocked and the other at once stopped pacing and looked up. His face was alive now, alert and expectant.

'Harry?' he called out. 'Is that you?'

'Yes, it is,' Harry answered. 'Just give us a moment.'

The Sister unlocked the door and the three went in. She waited outside.

Inside, Jordan took Darcy's hand and shook it; he slapped Manolis on the back, then stood stock still and slowly smiled Harry a greeting. 'So,' he said, 'and we have the Necroscope back on our team, eh?'

'For a while,' Harry answered, returning his smile. And: 'You scared us, Trevor. We thought he'd wrecked your mind.'

Darcy Clarke, after the initial handshake, had backed off a little, but unobtrusively. Now he mumbled: 'Will you excuse me a moment?' He went back out into the corridor, with Manolis following quickly on behind. In the corridor Darcy was standing beside the Sister — or rather, he was leaning against the wall. And his face was white!

'What is it?' Manolis hissed. 'I've seen that look on your face before.'

'Call Harry out of there,' Darcy whispered. 'Quickly!'

The Sister was beginning to look alarmed but Darcy cautioned her with a ringer to his lips.

'Harry,' Manolis's voice was casual as he leaned back into the room. 'Would you come out here a moment?'

'Do you mind?' Harry lifted an eyebrow, glanced at Jordan.

'Not at all,' the other shook his head and smiled strangely, knowingly. Harry went out to the others.

'What is it?'

Darcy closed the door and turned the key. He looked at Harry and his Adam's apple was working. 'It's all wrong!' he said. 'There's something… not right with him. In fact nothing's right with him!'

Harry's soulful eyes studied his drawn, trembling face. 'Your talent?'

'Yes. That doesn't feel like Trevor. It looks like him, but it doesn't feel like him. Not to my guardian angel. My talent wouldn't let me stay in there.'

'Harry?' came Jordan's voice from beyond the door. 'What's the delay? Look, I have something to tell you — but only you. Can't we talk, you and I, face to face?'

Manolis was quick off the mark. He showed the Sister his police identification, again warned her to silence as Darcy had done, with a finger to his lips, took out his Beretta and gave that to Harry. And: 'Leave the door ajar behind you, and we'll stay right here,' he said.

'But,' said Darcy, his voice wobbly, 'will that stop him?' He indicated the gun in Harry's hand.

Harry nodded. 'He's not a vampire,' he said. He put the gun into an inside pocket of his jacket, unlocked the door and went through it. Inside the room Jordan had sat down in an armchair. There was another chair facing him and he beckoned Harry to take it. Harry sat down… but carefully, warily, never taking his eyes off the man opposite. 'Well,' he finally said, 'and here I am. So what's the big mystery, Trevor?'

'All of a sudden,' said the other, still smiling his weird, knowing smile, 'you're not so concerned about me.' And Harry noticed how he formed his words slowly, carefully, making sure he got them right.

Right there and then the Necroscope guessed what Jordan's trouble was and decided to put it to the test. 'Oh, I'm concerned about you, all right,' he forced a smile onto his face. 'In fact you wouldn't believe just how concerned I am! Trevor, do you remember what you people at E-Branch used to call Harry Jnr when you looked after him that time?'

The strange, almost insinuating expression slid from Jordan's face. His features went slack and gaunt, his eyes blank, but just for a moment or two. Then… animation returned and he said: 'Oh, of course. The Boss, that's what we called him!'

'That's right — ' Harry nodded, and reached for the gun in his pocket, ' — but you were much too slow in remembering. And you were the one who was always especially fond of him. It's not something you'd need time to think about — or enquire about? — if you were you!'

As his gun started to come into view, so Jordan moved. Previously the man's movements had seemed slow to match his speech… but so are the movements of a chameleon before its tongue flickers into deadly life. And Janos's grip was strong on Jordan's mind. He moved like lightning, his left hand grabbing Harry's throat and his right bearing down on his gun hand, ramming it back inside his jacket. The Necroscope's reflexes took over. As Jordan straightened up from his chair, Harry kicked him hard between the legs… useless, for the mind which controlled Jordan's body simply turned the pain aside. In return, Jordan released Harry's throat and back-handed him with a clenched fist hard as iron! Before his eyes could focus from that, Jordan had lifted him half out of his chair and tried to butt him in the face. In the last moment Harry saw it coming and managed to turn his face aside, but even so the