"What, with the Knights of Themis running the show?"

Em shrugged. "They can't do much worse than the politicians we have now: wars . . . famines . . . crime . . . drug running . . . people smuggling . . . bank crises . . . global warming. . . . Some of those are bound to get better under a world government."

"You're right," Victor said. "Most of those problems will disappear-all of them, in fact. But I doubt you'll like the way the Knights plan to make them go away."

"I don't understand."

"Primarily through population control," Victor said firmly. "Last time I checked, there were nearly seven billion of us on the planet-far too many for effective totalitarian government. The Knights plan to cut that figure down to approximately fifty million worldwide and keep it there."

Em decided he'd misheard the figure. "You mean five hundred million?" Even that sounded ludicrously small.

"I mean fifty million," Victor said. "About what it was at the time of ancient Egypt. Instant cure for famine as a start: enough food to go around, but not enough humans to pollute our environment-great idea, don't you think? And if you structure the world government to be run by a few thousand Themis elite, with the rest of the population effectively functioning as their slaves, you abolish war. The really scary thing is that they've started the process of taking away people's liberties already, to pave the way for their eventual slave state."

Em blinked. "Have they?" He vaguely remembered his father complaining about the government and civil liberties, but what Victor was saying seemed a lot more serious.

Victor shrugged. "The Patriot Act in America allows the state to search through your emails, bug your phone conversations, examine your bank records and your medical records. You can also be arrested and held without trial, just like the good old Soviet police states. But it's even worse here in Britain. You can now be arrested and held without trial, denied access to your own money, have your activities restricted for no reason whatsoever, and have samples of your DNA taken against your will. And the Knights of Themis are only really getting started."

Em hesitated, then decided he didn't believe it. Victor was talking about antiterrorist legislation that would probably only be temporary anyway. And it was one thing talking about a small, manageable population, but getting to it was a different matter. "How do you reduce the world population from nearly seven billion to fifty million?" Even as he asked it, a chilling idea occurred to him, and he added softly, "Start a nuclear war?"

But Victor was shaking his head. "A nuclear war would destroy the planet, leave it a miserable place for the survivors to live on. The Knights don't want that. Their aim is a new Garden of Eden, with themselves enjoying the benefits and a slave population to look after them. One plan for the population reduction is a combination of sterilization for the young and euthanasia for the old. It won't happen until they have a world government, and even then it will be introduced gradually. But there's a faction of the Knights who thinks that's too slow. They say we need to cut the population now before global warming gets out of control. Their favored method is a bioengineered virus designed to kill off most of the population and then die out itself, leaving a bright new world for the survivors. The problem, of course, is how you stop the virus from attacking the Knights themselves. They have scientists working on that already."

Em stared at him in something close to horror, then shook his head violently. "How do you know stuff like this? I mean, most people have never even heard of the Knights of Themis."

"I'm betting your father did," Victor said.

Em blinked. "What's my father got to do with it?"

"Your father was a world authority on Nostradamus, I gather?"

"Yes," Em said cautiously.

"Not just the prophecies, but the man's whole life?"

"Yes . . ."

"Nostradamus was a Themis initiate," Victor said bluntly. "It's the sort of obscure fact some scholars would know but nobody else cares about. There's a theory that he used his prophecies to predict a future world where democracy no longer existed; and if you read them, it's hard to argue with that."

"But that was back in the sixteenth century," Em protested. "You seem to know exactly what they're up to now."

"Wish I did," Victor told him. "But I do know more than most. Section 7 was set up specifically to combat the Themis threat. I've spent most of my working life investigating the Knights."

Em glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. Victor had been talking about his Knights of Themis for more than an hour now, and it was fascinating to listen to. But Em wasn't sure he had the time to listen much longer. The Knights might be plotting to take over the world, but right now Em had more personal things on his mind. Like how to keep clear of the man with the gun and his friends. Or how to get his mother out of the psychiatric clinic.

"Look, Victor," he said heavily, "what do the Knights of Themis have to do with me?"

"They're the ones who are after you," Victor said.

Chapter 23.

His room was a cramped monk's cell with a single bed, a tiny wardrobe, and a kitchen chair; but it was better than a dormitory and a lot better than sleeping in a railway tunnel. It was now well past midnight, and Victor was anxious for him to get some rest. But Em was too excited-too worried-to think of sleep. "Any chance of more coffee?" he asked Victor.

Victor sighed and headed back to the kettle. "Okay," he said, "maybe it was a bit unfair to spring it on you, but the I Ching advised directness."

Em had been about to push him on the important stuff but sidetracked himself. "You asked the I Ching how to deal with me?"

"I asked for help in locating you, then how to deal with you." He shrugged. "Hey, it works for me!" He turned on the tap to refill the kettle. "One more cup, then we get some sleep. I must get my head down even if you don't-we need to be fresh tomorrow. There's a lot we have to do."

"Right," Em said, not knowing what he was talking about and not much caring. "But for the moment, let me get this straight. There's this big, really scary secret organization that's trying to take over the entire world, but they're taking time out to chase me? Because . . . ?"

"I don't know why because," Victor told him. "I wish to God I did-it would make life a lot easier. I just know they had a serious interest in your father-a very serious interest-and now they have an interest in you."

"My mother thinks my father was murdered."

Victor glanced at him uncomfortably. "She may be right. They've had her sectioned, which would suggest she knows something they don't want made public. Did she talk about it a lot-that she thought your father was murdered?"

"I suppose she might have," Em said.

"It's standard Themis procedure when people get troublesome. If need be they're murdered, assuming that can be done without raising suspicions. If they can't be murdered-and they wouldn't want to kill a second member of your family so quickly: might arouse police interest-having them sectioned is the next best thing. Once you're in a mental institution, nobody believes anything you say."

"Yes, but how do they get the doctors to-" Em stopped abruptly. He'd suddenly remembered where he'd seen the eye-in-the-triangle design that Victor had shown him on the dollar bill. It was the logo on the map the nurse had given him. "My God," he said, "the Knights of Themis own the clinic!"

"Where they're holding your mother?" Victor nodded. "Yes, they do." He poured boiling water into the percolator. "I'm making this weak. You really need some sleep. So do I."

Em had never felt less like sleep in his life. "Why did they kill my father, Victor? He had no interest in politics. He wouldn't give a toss about some new world order so long as they left him alone to study his books. The only thing he really cared about was Nostradamus, for heaven's sake!"

"He must have been a threat to the Knights of Themis, otherwise they wouldn't have taken such drastic action," Victor said bluntly. "They're absolutely ruthless, but that doesn't mean they go around swatting people like flies. Above everything else, they want to preserve their secrecy. So they're careful. Murder is very much a last resort, and they only do it when they're certain nobody will suspect their involvement."

"You still haven't told me why they murdered my father!" Em's voice rose. "Last resort or not, it doesn't make any sense. He couldn't have been a threat to them. He couldn't have been a threat to anybody."

"I don't know why they murdered your father," Victor said quietly.

"All right." He made a massive effort to pull himself together. "All right, why are they after me, then? I can see they would want to put my mother away if she was blabbing about Dad's death, but I haven't been talking to anybody. I didn't even think he was murdered after I heard Mum talking about it. I thought she was just being, you know, paranoid, or miserable or something. So why come after me?"

Victor handed him the fresh cup of coffee. "I don't know that either." He sighed. "Drink it down. Go to bed. I need you fresh in the morning."

But Em wouldn't leave it alone-couldn't leave it alone. "You're going to help me-right?"

"We're going to help each other, kid," Victor told him tiredly. "You could have information I need to know-I still haven't debriefed you. But believe me, we're both on the same side. I hate the Knights of Themis, hate everything they stand for."

"Debrief me now," Em offered.

"In the morning," Victor said. "I'm too tired now. Early in the morning, if you like."

"What else are we going to do tomorrow?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are we going to rescue my mum?"

"Who do you think I am-James Bond?" Victor demanded. "We don't just burst into a psychiatric clinic guns blazing and drag your mother out by the ears. You'll find that her commitment papers are perfectly legal. If we did try to take her out by force, we'd have every police station in the country on our case, as if we haven't enough problems already."

"Can't just leave her there," Em muttered. He was annoyed by Victor's attitude.

"That's exactly what we do," Victor told him firmly. "What we will do. What we're going to do tomorrow is debrief you properly, then make our plans."

"Can't you start to debrief me now?"

"No. Have you finished your coffee?"

"Do you have a gun, Victor?"

"Yes, I have. What do you want to know that for?"

"Can I see it?" Em asked.

"No, you can't."

"What sort of gun is it?"

"Czech CZ-TT 15-shot semiautomatic. Polymer frame so it won't trigger airport metal detectors."

"Can't we just start the debriefing tonight?" Em asked again. "That way you can sleep on it, and we have a head start in the morning. We can make plans, and you can clarify any stuff that comes up that you need to clarify. Don't you think that makes sense, Victor?"

Victor released a long, defeated sigh. "All right," he said. "We try to get a handle on the situation. But I need to get some stuff from my room. If we're going to do this, we may as well start off right."

Em sat staring into his coffee, heart thumping, until Victor returned with a small, solid-state recording device, hardly larger than a credit card, and an old-fashioned notebook and pen. He set them all down on the table and sat facing Em like a policeman about to start an interrogation. "The last few months before he died," Victor began without preliminary, "did you notice anything unusual in your father's behavior?"

Em took a deep breath and began to tell him everything he knew.

Chapter 24.

They reviewed their situation over a breakfast of bacon, eggs, sausages, tomatoes, sliced fried mushrooms, baked beans, and a piece of toast each. Between the good night's sleep, the place to stay, the first-class food, and a professional agent (with a gun!) to help him, Em felt almost optimistic.

"The problem," Victor said thoughtfully, "is we don't know who we're up against. I mean, we're up against the Knights of Themis, we know that; but that's like saying we're up against the Russian army. We might know all about the generals in Moscow, but it's the sniper in the next tree we actually have to worry about. You don't know the name of the man who followed you, nor the men who broke into your father's study. I don't suppose you remember the license plate number of the black Mercedes at the funeral."

Em shook his head. "Sorry."

"Didn't think so. As I see it, we have two choices at the moment. We can sit tight, wait for them to make another move, then play it by ear, take things as they come. Or we can try to find out specifically who we're dealing with in the Knights of Themis and take the fight to them."

Neither option appealed very much to Em, but he couldn't think of a better one. "How do we find out who we're dealing with?" Something struck him, and he added, "Hey, we could start with the clinic! The one where they're holding Mum."

Victor poured himself his third mug of coffee. "I already know the names of everybody involved in running that clinic-Section 7 has had it under investigation for nearly three years. It won't do us any good. The clinic is a genuine medical practice mainly looking after rich neurotics. These special patients' backgrounds are on a need-to-know basis, and the clinic's shrinks have only telephone contact with the Themis cell that sent them. They don't even know the name of the Knight involved: he gives them a code word when he calls."

"You're telling me none of the doctors in the clinic knows why Mum's being held there or the names of the people who had her sectioned?"

"That's what I'm telling you," Victor said.

"What about the other doctor?" Em asked at once.

Victor looked nonplussed. "What other doctor?"

"Alexander Hollis," Em exclaimed excitedly. "Our family doctor. He was one of the two doctors who signed the papers. We've known him for years. He can't be a member of the Knights-"

"Anybody could be a member of the Knights, believe me," Victor interrupted. "That's their strength."

"All right, either he's a member of the Knights of Themis, or he was forced to do what he did by them. Either way, he's worth talking to." He hesitated. "I think Uncle Harold said something about him being out of the country, but only for a few days. He might be back by now."

"You know what?" said Victor thoughtfully. "You may have something there." He stood up. "What did you say his name was?"

"Hollis. Dr. Alexander R. Hollis. His office is on Oakland Avenue, near the university."

"Okay, I'll go call, find out if he's back at work. You do the dishes."

Em blinked. "How come I get to do the dishes?"

"I cooked breakfast."

"Yes, but I could call them."

Victor gave him a long, slow look. "You really don't know what you're up against, do you? These people want to rule the world, and they've already gone a long way toward doing just that. They've infiltrated every power structure on the planet. They have money to spend-more money than some entire countries. They're looking for you. Do you really imagine it's beyond them to run a voice recognition bot throughout the British phone system? They could trace your call from any phone, including phone booths and the one in this apartment. Until this thing is over, until we know exactly what's going on, it's no more phone calls for you, my boy."

Em stared back for a moment and then said, "You make the calls. I'll do the dishes."

Victor took his time getting through to Dr. Hollis's surgery. Em rinsed and stacked the dishes, turned on the portable radio beside the sink, discovered he was listening to some boring news channel-there was a holdup in the distribution of Death Flu vaccine-and switched it off again when he couldn't find any music he liked. Victor returned, frowning slightly. "He's still not back at work, but he's back in the country. I got that much out of his dragon of a secretary. What she wouldn't tell me was where he lives. I don't suppose you know?"

"I do, actually," Em said. "Been there for supper twice with Mum and Dad."

Victor instructed the cab to drop them off on a corner several blocks away from Dr. Hollis's home. "How come we're getting out here?" Em asked him at once.

"Just a precaution," Victor told him as he paid the cabbie.

"Precaution against what?"