As to who 'they' were: international entrepreneurs, or so the hotel manager had been given to understand; nor was he alone in his ignorance. For from the outside looking in, very few would suspect that the building in toto was anything other than it purported to be: an hotel. Which was exactly the guise or aspect, or lack of such, which 'they' wished to convey. And so, except to its members, and to a select core of Very Important Persons in the Corridors of Power, who could be numbered on the fingers of one hand - only one of which, the Minister Responsible, knew the actual location of E-Branch HQ - the Branch simply did not exist.
Yet paradoxically E-Branch's existence and indeed its location were known of elsewhere in the world, to one organization at least and probably more than one. The Soviet equivalent knew of it certainly, and possibly China's mindspy organization too. They knew about E-
Branch HQ but made no great show of it - not yet. Let it suffice that the hotel had been earmarked and was atarget; in the unlikely event of global conflict it would be an early casualty, simply because it gave the West too much of an edge.
This was of small concern: since the end of World War Two inner London itself had been a target, as were all centres of government, finance, and commerce worldwide, not to mention a thousand military establishments. And for that matter, so were the Russian and Chinese ESP-agencies targets, including Soviet HQ on Protze Prospekt in Moscow, next door to the State Biological Research Laboratories. Also the Soviet 'listening' cell in Mogocha near the Chinese border, where a team of telepaths kept an eye (or an ear) on the Yellow Peril; and likewise the Chinese outfit itself on Kwijiang Avenue, Chungking. The commencement of World War Three would be a hot time for espers, which was as good a reason as any why such agencies should work for its prevention. And so to all intents and purposes, perestroika and glasnost were still very much the order of the day.
Which was why it came as no surprise to Trask when Chung told him, 'Our "friends" on Protze Prospekt have confirmed it: something has come through the Perchorsk Gate. They've got it trapped there and want our help with it - urgently.' He used the term 'friends' loosely; the British and Soviet E-Branches had never been more than wary adversaries. In fact the Necroscope in his time had twice pared 'the Opposition' down to the bone. But ever since the Chernobyl disaster, the Russians had been far less reluctant to ask for outside help. They'd asked for it not only with that horror but also with the decommissioning and mothballing of a dozen more outdated, outmoded and positively lethal nuclear reactors, and for ten years now the West had been helping them dispose of the rest of their seemingly endless toxic-waste junkyards. For Earth's sake, if for no other good reason.
As the elevator doors hissed open, letting them out into the main corridor, Trask said, 'I think you'd better start at the beginning. Let me see the whole picture. Also, let's have every available hand in on it. The Duty Officer, espers doing paperwork, administration: the whole shoot.'
But Chung had anticipated him. They're waiting for us in the Ops room. But only Millie Cleary knows what it's about. She was Duty Officer last night and took the call from Moscow just an hour ago. As for myself: I couldn't sleep and came in early. Then, passing Harry's room, I ... I sort of felt it. By which time the head of Soviet E-Branch had been on the blower asking to speak to you.'
'Harry's room?' Trask frowned.
They were heading down the corridor towards the Ops room. Chung took Trask's elbow and brought him to a halt, looked over the other's shoulder at a door behind him and nodded. 'Harry's room, yes,' he said. The expression on his face was curious, questioning.
Then Trask remembered. When Harry Keogh stayed here after the Bodescu affair, they'd given him a room of his own. Indeed the Necroscope had literally lived here, however briefly, until his wife's problem had become apparent. That had been ... what? A quarter century ago? And eight years after that he had been debriefed here, after his return from Starside. God, the passage of time: it made Trask feel old! Who was he kidding? Well past fifty he was getting old, and too fast!
He turned and looked at the door, which had its own faded plastic name plate:
Harry's Room
Trask frowned again, and said: 'You know, I don't think I've ever been in there? Well, not since Harry's time, anyway.' He looked at Chung and saw that he was suddenly pale; his mouth was tight and his slanted eyes were blinking rapidly. 'David?'
The other shook his head. 'It's nothing. Just this room, I think. You've never been in there? Well, you're not alone. The Necroscope used it for a while, since when ..." He shrugged. The room housed a computer terminal for eight years, until we refitted. In fact the old machine is still in there, gathering dust. Then the room fell into disuse, and no one seems to have had any use for it at all! But now ... I find myself wondering if it doesn't go deeper than that? I mean, it's always cold in that room, Ben. All of the espers feel it: it has an aura. The room itself doesn't seem to want anyone; it doesn't want to be messed with.' Chung stared hard at Trask. 'Haven't you felt it too?'
Trask looked blank. 'I don't think I've even noticed the room,' he said. 'I mean, I have noticed it - the name plate and all - but it hasn't made any impression. It's just a place I've lived with every day of my life all these years, without really seeing it.'