Manolis shook his head. 'Not cold,' he said, 'just very strong. I simply ne eded reminding, that's all. You see, Harry, some of us are not so strong.'

Harry sighed and nodded. 'I think you'll do,' he said. He picked up his gla ss of rich red wine.

Darcy said: 'So, three or four days before you head for Hungary, right? A nd between times? You think it's time we took on the rest of them, right?'

'That's exactly what I think,' Harry answered. 'Janos has men, or vampir es, at his dig in Halki. It's possible there are others on his island, and t here's also the crew of his boat. Which makes quite a few of them, and we do n't yet know how dangerous they are. I mean, if they're all vampires then th ey're all dangerous,- but there are vampires and vampires. Janos is ... one h.e.l.l of a vampire! By comparison the rest of them won't be too hard to handle. No harder than Armstrong was, anyway.'

'Jesus!' said Manolis, crossing himself. 'You don't think the American wa s hard enough?'

'Oh yes I do,' said Harry. 'I was just thinking out loud, remembering s ome of the things I saw on Starside. But right here and now . . . Manolis, you've seen how effective a crossbow firing hardwood bolts can be. So what can Rhodes supply in the way of special weaponry?'

'Crossbows? I don't think so. Next best thing: spearguns!'

Harry started to shake his head, then stopped and narrowed his eyes. 'With steel spears, right?'

'Steel harpoons, yes,' Manolis nodded, and he wondered what Harry was thinking. The Necroscope didn't keep him in suspense.

'Do we have silver-plating facilities? A factory or plant that can put a sheath of silver on a handful of harpoons?' Manolis's eyes opened wide. 'Cert ainly!' he beamed. 'Very well, let's buy ourselves two or three high-performa nce spearguns. Can we leave that to you?'

'Tomorrow morning, first thing. I am the spear-fisherman and know these guns. The best model is called "Champion", Italian manufacture, with single or double rubbers. Using a single barb, with a metal flap that opens on maki ng a strike . . . they will be quite as effective as your crossbow.'

'Rubbers?' Darcy Clarke wasn't much for water sports.

Harry explained: 'These guns use rubber hurlers for propulsion. They're pr etty deadly. Slow to load, though, so we'll need single, powerful rubbers. Man olis, better make it half a dozen guns. And Darcy, I think it's time you calle d in extra help. I don't think it will be too difficult to find three or four volunteers from your lot back in London.'

'E-Branch?' Darcy answered. 'They're just waiting for the word! I'll bring in the blokes from the Bodescu job. I can get on it just as soon as we're finis hed here.'

'Good,' Harry nodded. 'But it might be a good idea to get it started even before they get out here. I think our first priority has to be Halki. We kno w there are only a couple of Janos's creatures there. And actually, we don't yet know that they are "creatures"! They could be men pure and simple, dupes in his pay, who don't know what they're working for. Well, I'll only have to see them to know them. Manolis, how long will it take to get those spears - e r, harpoons - silvered up?'

'By tomorrow night?'

'And how long to Halki?'

'In a fast boat,' Manolis shrugged, 'two hours, two and a half at most. I t sits in the sea only a few miles from the island of Rhodes, but fifty miles down the coast from Rhodes Town, where we are now. Halki's only a little pla ce. A big rock in the sea. One village with a couple of little tavernas, one short road, some mountains, and one Crusader castle.'

'Tomorrow's Wednesday,' said Harry. 'If you can fix us up with a boat an d a pilot by Thursday morning, we can easily be there before midday. So that 's what we'll aim for. Between times, is there any chance of taking a look a t this "fang of rock" that Janos is buying in the Dodecanese?'

Manolis shook his head. 'That would take the best part of a day. I sugge st we do Halki Thursday morning, and go straight on to have a look at Karpat hos and this bay close to the airport where the Lazarus is laid up. Incident ally, both Halki and Karpathos lie in what used to be called the "Carpathian Sea"! This vampire, he likes to feel at home, eh?'

Harry nodded. 'I fancy it's a coincidence. A funny one, but a coinciden ce anyway. But I agree with you on the rest of what you said. And in any ca se, we should have reinforcements from E-Branch by Thursday evening. Friday will be soon enough to take a look at Janos's 20th-century aerie.'

Harry's large steak, rare, without vegetables, must surely be cold by no w. He hadn't yet touched it and the others had long since finished eating. H e shrugged and ate anyway. It was a long time since he'd tasted meat so rare and b.l.o.o.d.y. In fact he couldn't remember the time. And the deep red wine wa s good, too. And to himself, wrily: If you can't beat 'em, join 'em!

Maybe Manolis was right and he was a cold one after all...

A message was waiting for them back at the hotel: a Sister at the asylu m has requested that Inspector Papastamos call her back. Manolis did so imm ediately. He spoke on the phone in his usual rapid-fire Greek, with long pa uses between each burst, while Harry and Darcy watched his face going throu gh a variety of expressions: from wary and inquiring to astonishment, then disbelief, and finally sheer delight. And at last he was able to translate the message back to them.

'Trevor Jordan is much improved!' he almost shouted, his face a huge smi le. 'He is conscious, talking, making sense! Or at least he was. They made h im take food, then gave him a shot to put him down for the night. But before he slept he said he wanted to see you, Harry. They say you can see him firs t thing in the morning.'

Darcy and Harry looked wonderingly at each other, and Darcy said, 'What do you make of it?'

For a moment Harry was bewildered. He frowned and scratched his chin. '

Maybe . . . maybe distance has put him beyond Janos's reach? I had thought his condition was permanent - that his mind had been tampered with, like mi ne - but maybe Janos isn't up to that. Maybe he isn't that good. h.e.l.l, who cares? Whatever it is, it sounds like good news to me. We'll just have to w ait until the morning to find out.

13.

First Contact - the Challenge - Thralls

Before he went to sleep, Harry tried again to contact Mobius. It was us eless; his deadspeak went out to Mobius's grave in Leipzig, but no one answ ered. One of the reasons Harry had delayed pursuing Janos was that he'd hop ed (hope against hope) to regain his numeracy - and through it access to th e Mobius Continuum. This had been his plan but ... it was fading now, possi bly into oblivion.

Still worrying about it, eventually he slept.

But his obsession of the moment was carried over into his dreams where , separated from the lesser problems and diversions of the waking world, H arry continued to transmit his thoughts across that Great Dark Gulf which men called Death. Many of the teeming dead in their graves heard him, woul d answer or comfort him, but dared not. None of them was the one he sought ; communication for its own sake would be pointless; they knew that their commiserations, even their inevitable approbations, would only const.i.tute obstructions in Harry's path. For the Necroscope had never been able to re fuse conversation with the dead, whose suffering of solitude he alone of a ll living men understood.

There was one among the dead, however, who - for all that she loved hi m more than the rest - stood much less in awe of him. Indeed, on a good ma ny occasions she had chided him. The mothers of men are like that.

Harry? her deadspeak touched him. Can you hear me, son?

He sighed and abandoned his search for Mobius. There had been that in her tone which commanded his attention. What is it, Ma?

What is it? (He could picture her frown.) Is that how you speak to me, Ha rry?

Ma, he sighed again, and tried to explain, I've been busy. And what I'm doing is important. You don't know how important.

Do you think so? she answered. Do you really think I don't know? But who knows you better than me, Harry? Well, I know this much, anyway - that you're wasting your time!

Harry's dreaming mind played with her words and found no explanation fo r them. Nor would he unless she was willing to supply one. She picked that up at once and flew at him in the closest she'd ever come to a rage. What!?

And would you take that att.i.tude? Would you take your impatience out on me ? Well, the dead might prize you, but they don't know you like I do. And Ha rry, you . . . are ... a ... trouble!

Ma,I - You, you, you! Always you! And are you the only one? Who is this T you'r e always mentioning, Harry? And why is it you never speak of 'we'? Why must you always think you're alone? Of all men you are not alone! For a million y ears men have died and lain silent in the dark, thinking their thoughts and following their solitary designs, each separate from the next but joined in the belief that death was an airless, lightless (oh, yes, and painless too!) but relentless prison . . . until a small bright light named Harry Keogh ca me along and said: 'Why don't you talk to me? I'll listen. And then you migh t like to try talking to each other!' Ahhh! A revelation!

Harry remained silent, didn't know how to answer. Was she praising or chastising him? He had never heard her like this, not even when he was awa ke. She had never been so angry. And his Ma picked that up, too.

Why am I angry? I don't believe it! For years you couldn't speak to me if you wanted to - not without killing yourself for it and finally when you can speak to me - Now he believed he understood, and knew that she was right, and hoped h e also knew how to deal with it. Ma, he said, the others need to know about me, need to be rea.s.sured that there's more than just loneliness in death.

And they need to know that there's safety in it, too. From such as Dragosan i and the Ferenczys, and others of their sort. But there are so many of the dead - I have so many good friends amongst them - that I can't ever hope t o speak to them all. Not until I'm one of them, anyway. But you don't need to know these things because you already know! Yes, and you've always known . . . that I love you, too, Ma. She was silent.

So if there's ever a time I don't contact you, it's because something very, very important is getting in the way. And Ma, that's the way it's always going to be . . . Ma?

She was full to the top, which was why she wasn't answering, but at leas t she wasn't crying. Harry hoped not, anyway. And eventually she said: Oh, I know that, son. It's just that I. . . I worry about you so. And the dead .

. . they ask after you. Yes, and because they love you they go out of their way for you, too. Don't you know that? Can't you understand that we all want to help?-And don't you know that there are experts among us - in every field - whose talents you're wasting?

What? Wasted talents? The dead wanted to help him?

But didn't they always? What had she been up to? What's that, Ma? he said. About the dead? And what did you mean: I'm wasting my time?

In trying to contact Mobius, that's what I mean, she immediately answer ed. If only you'd stay in touch you'd know! Why, we've been trying to get h old of Mobius for you ever since you got your deadspeak back!

You what? But . . . how? Mobius isn't here. He's out there somewhere.

He could be anywhere. Literally anywhere!

We know that, she answered, and also that anywhere's a big place. We h aven't found him yet. But if and when we do he'll get your message and, we hope, get back to you. Meanwhile you needn't concern yourself about it. Y ou can get on with other things.

Ma, said Harry, you don't understand. Listen: Mobius is probably in the Mobius Continuum. The dead-even the ma.s.sed thoughts of all the dead - couldn 't possibly reach him there. It's a place that isn't of this universe. So yo u see it's not so much that I'm wasting my time, but that you are wasting yo urs!

He could sense her shaking her head. And: Son, she said, when Harry Jn r took away your deadspeak and your mathematical intuition, did he also ad dle your brains?

Eh?

When you use the Mobius Continuum, how much time do you actually spe nd in it?

And he at once saw that she was right, and wondered: is logic linked w ith numeracy in the human mind? Has my son diluted my powers of reason, to o? No time, he said. It's instantaneous. Mobius wasn't in the Mobius Conti nuum - he merely used it to get wherever he was going.

Exactly. So why waste your time aiming deadspeak thoughts at his grave in Leipzig, eh? It's like you said: he's out there somewhere. An astronomer in life, death hasn't changed him. So right now there are an awful lot of us dir ecting our thoughts outwards to the stars! And if he's there we'll find him, eventually.

Harry had to give in to her. Ma, what would I do without you?

I was only putting you straight, Harry. Telling you that between times yo u should get on with other things.

Such as?

Harry, you have access to the most extensive library in the world, books which not only hold knowledge but can also impart it. The minds of the dead a re like books for you to read, and their talents are all there to be learned.

Just as you learned from Mobius, so you can learn from the rest of us.

But that was something Harry had long ago considered, and long since turned down. Dragosani had learned from the dead, too. Thibor Ferenczy had in structed him - in evil. Likewise, as a necromancer, Dragosani had stolen th e talents of Max Batu, and the secrets of the Soviet E-Branch from Gregor B orowitz. And yet none of these things had helped him in the end. Indeed, Ba tu's evil eye had a.s.sisted in his destruction! No, there were certain thing s, like the future, which Harry preferred not to know. And these thoughts o f his were deadspeak, which of course his mother read at once.

Maybe you're right, she said, but still you should keep it in mind. There are talents here, Harry, and if and when you need them they're yours for the a sking . . .

Her voice was fading now, dwindling away into dreams. But at least this time Harry would remember their conversation. And at last, weary now in mi nd and body both, he relaxed, let go, sank down even deeper into dream and lay suspended there, simply sleeping. For a little while. Until - Haaarry? It was Mobius! Harry would know his dead-speak anywhere. But even by dreaming standards Mobius's voice was . . . dreamy. For this was a very different Mobius, a changed Mobius.

August Ferdinand? Is that you? I've been looking for you. I mean, a gre at many of us have been searching for you everywhere.

I know, Harry. I was . . . out there. But you were right and they were w rong. I was in the Continuum! For as long as I could bear it, anyway. The th oughts of your dead friends reached me as I emerged.

Harry didn't understand. What's to bear? he asked. The Mobius Continuum is what it is.

Is it? Mobius's voice was still mazed and wandering, like that of a sleepw alker, or 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 tal ked 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 a ble to. Something had happened to me - to my deadspeak - and I was cut off f rom everyone. And that's one of the reasons why I had to contact you now. Yo u 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 EVERYT HING! 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 s liding 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, fa ding 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 re maining. So that Harry knew Mobius had returned to the one place above a ll 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, so mething 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 di d. I mean, they were waiting for me when I landed - goons of theirs, anyw ay. So, someone must have told them. Someone here on Rhodes!'

For a moment Manolis looked blank, but then he grinned and slapped his t high. 'Harry,' he said, 'you are the very strange person with the extremely weird powers - but I think you will never make the policeman! Yesterday, whe n 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 mysel f 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 lookin g 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 wa nt is that someone should be waiting for me in Hungary, too. I mean, if it wor ks out that I must go there.'

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

Neither Manolis, Harry, nor Darcy had any way of knowing that at that v ery moment the police were at the airport, talking to a man who worked on t he pa.s.senger 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 windo ws, and a door with a peephole. The door was locked from the outside; obvio usly the doctors were still a little wary. The Sister looked through the pe ephole and smiled, and beckoned Harry forward. He followed her example and looked into the room. Jordan was striding to and fro in the confined s.p.a.ce, his hands clasped behind his back. Harry knocked and the other at once sto pped 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 s aid, '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 un.o.btrusively. Now he mumbled: 'Will you excuse me a moment?' He went back out into the corridor, with Manolis following quickly on behind. In the co rridor Darcy was standing beside the Sister - or rather, he was leaning aga inst 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 r inger to his lips.

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

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