Dimension Of Horror Part 14

"Yes, but . . ."

"Odd you have no more recent photos. Is she dead?"

"Yes, only I . . ."

"And no photos of a wife, no photos of the girl's mother."

"Dammit, I . . . "

"Anger? Are you angry? The mother's not dead, yet it is obvious neither she nor any other woman is sharing your present life. If she were dead we'd see her photo alongside your daughter's, wouldn't we? And I've seen how you speak to the female members of the staff, of whom there are surprisingly few. I sense a divorce, Dr. Colby, a divorce in which you were deeply hurt, a divorce from which you have not even now recovered, a divorce that poisons your relationship with every woman you meet."

Colby leaped to his feet. "Stop that! Stop!"

"Am I wrong?" Richard asked mildly.

After a long pause Colby said, "No, you're quite right." His voice was barely audible. "But I am not the patient here. You are."

Blade said gently, "Sit down, Saxton." Colby was about to protest against the undue familiarity, the blatant bossiness, but instead he did as he was told. Blade went on, "I know you want to help me. Believe me when I say you cannot. Each of us has a blind spot. Mine is that I cannot accept the kind of help you offer, even to save my life. I have always made my own decisions, helped myself, and my training has enforced that habit. In the field I have always had to act more or less on my own, and I certainly could never confide in anyone. As I may have told you, I have not been a docile agent, have even deliberately disobeyed orders several times, though thankfully it all turned out right. I have made mistakes, but they have been my own mistakes. I'm rather fond of them, since they've taught me so much. Now, with or without my memory, I intend to continue to make my own decisions, to ask no help from anyone, to reserve for myself all judgments of what is true and false, right or wrong, real or unreal. Do you understand?"

Colby felt a gray hopelessness, which he did not bother to conceal, as he replied, "I understand that there is no point in you and I continuing to work together."

Richard sat up and turned to look at Colby, saying, "That's not so, Saxton. While I am the sort who, ultimately, can't be helped, you are a different breed of man. You care what people think of you, you listen to advice, you can accept help."

"From whom?"

"From me, Saxton."

Saxton considered this for some time, then said softly, "All right."

When the hour reserved for Richard was up, Colby's secretary said over the intercom, "Time for your next patient, doctor." Her tone was crisp and businesslike.

Colby answered, his voice oddly hoa.r.s.e, "Cancel all my appointments for the rest of the afternoon."

"Yes, sir." The woman was puzzled but submissive.

Four hours later the door to Dr. Colby's office opened and Colby and Richard Blade emerged. Blade had his arm around the doctor's shoulders and the secretary could not help but notice that Colby's eyes were red, as if he'd been crying.

"Is there something wrong, doctor?" she demanded.

"Not anymore," Colby answered, a strange peaceful smile lighting up his gaunt features. She had never seen such relief, such calm, such inner stillness in a human face. It actually frightened her.

The two men pa.s.sed her and entered the hallway, and she could have sworn she heard Dr. Saxton Colby turn to the hulking Richard Blade and say, "Thank you, Blade. Thank you. Thanks."

She rolled her eyes heavenward, then went on reading her magazine.

After supper, when Zoe and Richard went upstairs, the usual guards trailed along behind them, two husky white-clad men with tranquilizer pistols.

"Do they watch you all the time, d.i.c.k?" she asked.

Richard smiled ironically. "When I'm safely locked in my room at night, they are satisfied to only spot-check me at half-hour intervals."

"They lock you in every night?"

He nodded. "That's right. They either lock me in or watch me. I daresay there was someone outside your door all last night." He gestured toward a door they were pa.s.sing. "They keep their weapons in there. Note the combination padlock. That's a mistake."

"A mistake?"

"On their part." He blew on his fingertips. "Colby is keeping special services men here, and many of us have a way with combination locks. Dr. Colby is a good man in his field, but MI6 is well rid of him. He's too careless."

Blade opened the door to his bedroom and ushered her in. When he had closed the door he stood a moment, finger to lips, then relaxed, saying, "They didn't lock us in. That means they'll be standing guard out there." He crossed to the window. "I should warn you not to say anything obscene. We wouldn't want to shock whoever it is that is on duty at the listening post."

She followed him. "Listening post?" she said.

"Of course. We must a.s.sume this room is bugged. And of course the heavy bars on the window are rigged with a burglar alarm. Isn't it rea.s.suring to know we're being taken care of so well?"

She stood beside him at the barred window, watching the color fade from the evening sky. His arm slipped around her shoulders and rested there, and once again she felt that familiar rush of ambivalent emotion he always inspired in her. He was like a bear in a cage, warm, seemingly docile, yet not tame, not a safe pet, perhaps dangerous. Was he plotting his escape? Was escape possible? No, there was no way even Richard Blade could get out of this place!

Abruptly Richard broke in on her thoughts with, "At supper Dr. Colby called you Mrs. Smythe-Evans. Did you marry during those years I've forgotten?" His voice was casual, as if commenting on the weather.

"Yes, but you must understand . . ."

"I was under the impression that you were going to marry me. "

"That wasn't possible." She was fl.u.s.tered, a little defiant.

"Why not?" He was calm, seemingly emotionless.

"You were a stranger. Everything about you was a secret. But even so, I was willing. It was you, after your first enthusiasm wore off, who backed away from the idea."

She saw a grimace pa.s.s fleetingly across his face, saw his eyes close. He said, "I'm remembering things. More than I've let on. I've been remembering bits and flashes since . . . I don't know. But I've been pushing them out of my mind. They're too insane to be real."

"Remembering what?"

"A machine. Some kind of computer that sends me into alien universes."

"It's not insane, d.i.c.k. It's true. That machine is what destroyed our relationship, though I didn't know it at the time."

"It's true? The swordsmen? The primitive societies? The monsters? It's not just my nightmares?"

"It's all true."

"And the Ngaa?" Richard's forehead glistened with sudden sweat. "Is the Ngaa real too?" He stepped away from her, looking at her intently.

She reached out and grasped his hand. "Yes," she said softly. "Do you remember the Ngaa?"

"No. Yes. I think so. I see a city drifting high in a dim red sky . . . a dying sun . . . a flame-blasted planet below . . . a hovering ball of blue-white fire . . . pa.s.sageways like crystal cathedrals . . . a jumble of dreams. Oh Zoe, suddenly my head is full of images, impossible images! Was I really there? In the home of the Ngaa?"

"Yes, you were! I wish I could tell you the Ngaa is nothing but a dream, but I can't. It's real and dangerous. And it's followed you here. Can you remember that, too?"

He nodded slowly, his face somber in the failing light. "Yes, I remember. I was in an aircraft, over London. The Ngaa attacked me, entered my mind. But I drove it out! By G.o.d, I won against it."

She hugged him excitedly. "Oh, d.i.c.k, that's right! We must tell J and Dr. Colby!"

But he stopped her as she turned toward the door, holding her shoulders in his powerful fingers, and he said, "Not yet. Let me work on my memories alone for a while. If I'm disturbed they may slip away." She wondered, Is he speaking to me, or to the hidden microphones he thinks are listening to us?

"It wouldn't disturb you if I . . . stayed with you tonight?" she ventured uncertainly.

There was a long pause, then he answered, puzzled, "But you're married, aren't you? In fact, I seem to remember you have children."

She could not meet his gaze, but looked out the window, answering unsteadily, "I'm a widow. Don't you remember that?"

"No, I ... "

"My children are dead, killed by the Ngaa. Don't you remember that, either?" Her eyes filled with tears. "Don't you remember how everything I'd worked so hard for, my whole carefully built-up life was incinerated in a single night? I envy you your amnesia. G.o.d, I wish I could forget! I wish I could forget it all!" The numbness that had gripped her since the fire was leaving at last, but leaving her with a pain she could hardly bear. She tore free of his fingers and threw herself face down on the bed, sobbing.

She felt Richard's hand on her heaving shoulder, heard him say, "I can't bring back what you've lost, but perhaps I can bring you revenge. The Ngaa is powerful, yes, but not omnipotent. I think I can kill it."

She rolled over and clutched him to her, crying, "No, d.i.c.k! Don't try to fight that thing alone. It will kill you!"

She desperately kissed his lips, but he was distant, his thoughts elsewhere. "It won't kill me," he said. "I know its weakness."

She thought, He's planning already . . . .

She kissed him again, and this time he returned her kiss. They made love half-dressed, as if afraid that there was no time, and when she left his room to go to her own she heard the guards locking his door.

The "attendant" looked up as J entered the room, then started to remove his headphones.

"No, no," said J. "I'm just checking in."

Disappointed, the attendant gestured toward the amplifier on the table. "Nothing to check. Nothing to hear but snoring. Blade is sleeping like a drunken horse. Want to hear?"

"No, thanks."

"What time is it?"

J took out his pocket.w.a.tch and inspected it in the dim yellow light from the lamp on the bedtable, then answered, "A little after two."

"Isn't it odd, sir, how people think secret agents lead such exciting lives? They've no idea how b.l.o.o.d.y boring it is in reality."

"If they did we'd never be able to recruit anyone, would we?"

"I suppose not."

"Well, good night."

"Good night, sir."

J opened the door to the hall. The sanitarium was so silent the faint distant sounds of a freight train pa.s.sing through Berkeley were clearly audible. J felt somewhat relieved now that some of his own men, flown in from London, had taken over the watch on Richard. Colby's men were not particularly bright, and one could never be frank with them.

"Wait, sir!" The attendant leaned forward intently.

J reentered the room and closed the door. "What is it?"

"Blade is talking in his sleep."

"If that's all . . ." J turned to leave.

"No, he's calling out, 'The Ngaa! The Ngaa!' and tossing and thrashing around. Give a listen."

"No, I don't think . . . well, all right."

J accepted the headphones and put them on.

He recognized Richard's murmuring voice, but could not understand what he was saying except for the one word Ngaa. The bedsprings were creaking and crashing violently.

Suddenly there was silence.

J was about to remove the headphones when he heard Blade speak again, this time clearly, like a man fully awake.

"The Ngaa," Richard said calmly, without fear.

Then J heard a sound he would hear again and again in nightmares for the rest of his life, the voice of the Ngaa, like the wind, like rustling trees, like a vast mult.i.tude of voices whispering in chorus: "Yes, we are the Ngaa."

"What do you want?" Richard challenged.

"Open the way for us. Let us come through."

"Never!"

"You are our entrance. Let us come through."

"No."

"We have served you well. We have removed your rival, made everything as it was long ago when you were happy. Now you must fulfill your side of the agreement."

"I made no agreement."

"You did! With your subconscious mind. We read your desires, listened to your unspoken prayers, and, because we are much like the being you call your G.o.d, we have answered. Is there something else you want? Do not speak. We will see it in your mind and obey. We will grant your wish, whatever it may be. But as we serve you, so must you serve us. Escape! We will help you. Return to London. Activate the computer and come to us. Help us to invade your dimension in all our power, to make our home on your world. Our planet is dead and our sun dying. Your planet is green and tempting. Your planet has air and water and living things. Come to us! Come!"

"No."

The mult.i.tude of whispering voices grew fainter. "All you desire, in waking life or in dreams, we can give you. Come. Come." They were now scarcely audible.

Blade said, "Your time moves more quickly than mine, Ngaa, and your time is running out. I will not come to you. I will leave you in your crystal city in the sky, above the planet you have burned clean of life, leave you there to die."

The Ngaa answered with a fading sigh. "You will change your mind, Richard Blade, and soon."

When he heard nothing more, J removed the headphones. It was then he became aware that the hairs on the back of his hand were standing up and swaying. He glanced around, startled. The room was bathed for an instant in a dim blue glow.