distraction. He hung a 'do-not-disturb' sign on his doorknob, double-checked that the door was locked, got out his suitcase and opened it on his bed. Four T-shirts, a black track-suit, a pair of soft black canvas shoes (a bit scuffed), a light-blue summer jacket, and ... an ex-Army web belt, with canvas pouch attachments, a box of six tear-gas canisters, and nine fragmentation grenades, packed like dully glinting, blued-steel eggs in a three-by-three plywood nest of straw-stuffed compartments. The mere presence of the last couple of items would suffice to make most people extremely nervous, but the Necroscope had played around with far more deadly things in his time.
He put the stuff away again, went down to the bar, drank mineral water and sat alone, determined to remain mainly unnoticed.
Beyond patio windows a swimming pool's lights came on. A party of British tourists was out there, hooting and splashing about. A pretty blonde girl came in with a towel wrapped round her, ordered drinks, smiled at Harry and said, 'English?'
'Nicht verstehen,' he told her, went back to his room and fidgeted. But on his way to his room he remembered to stop off at the gift shop and buy a pencil-slim flashlight... he might well need it, in the treasure vault under Le Manse Madonie.
His room had a smal balcony; he sat out there under briliant stars and counted satellites tracking the sky, until just after one o'clock in the morning when his patience ran out. It was stil early, but it would have to do.
He put on the track-suit and black shoes, fitted the belt and attachments to his waist, stuffed the pouches with canisters and grenades, then tested their weight and his own freedom of movement. Everything was just right, yet still he felt... not unlike he'd felt before he 'invaded' the Chateau Bronnitsy for the first time. But surely it wasn't as bad as that? Then: Harry had been full of mayhem, bloodlust; he had been going up against Boris Dragosani, a vampire. This time: it was 'just' a couple of Godfathers ... Wasn't it?
Also, Dragosani had been expecting him, and these people weren't.
But in any case, Harry's course was set; too late to have second thoughts now; he had to fund his search for Brenda and the baby - and fund it big - and the Francezcis were crooked as they come, and murderers to boot. That last couldn't be proved in a court of law, no, but the Necroscope was satisfied to take J. Humphrey Jackson Jr's word for it. He'd rarely known a dead man to lie. Some dead things lied, but not men.
He conjured a Mobius door and 'went' to Le Manse Madonie, to that spot under the walls of the place whose co-ordinates he remembered from his second flash forwards. And without pause he jumped again -this time a half-mile away across rugged, barren terrain, to where uneven fang-like outcrops of rock jutted from the stony, desiccated mountain soil like shattered teeth. That was far enough.
Using his flashlight, he climbed a few feet to a good vantage point and looked back at the dark, squat silhouette of Le Manse.
There were just a handful of dim lights shining out from rooms built into the walls -servants quarters, Harry supposed.
But the arched-over entrance to the inner courtyard was lit up by a battery of spotlights. That was okay; he wasn't going in through the main door. He had his own doors.
'Humph,' he said, under his breath, 'are you out there?'
Hey, I've been expecting you, Necroscope! The other came back at once. Then the excitement ebbed as the American asked him: What happened, Harry? I mean, when we were talking? You were there and you were gone. You sort of faded out, as if you were being blocked out... but by what?
The Necroscope frowned, shook his head. 'I'm ... not sure. I don't remember. I get this feeling occasionally that someone is messing about with my mind, and when I find out who there's going to be hell to pay! But for the moment
... I think maybe I'd better keep a tight rein on this conversation at least. So it'll be just you and me this time, Humph.'
How can I help you?
'Show me the route to the vault again - not from your room but just the underground part, the tunnels in the bedrock.'
Humph was puzzled. But with your talents, why not go right on into the vault?
For the life of him, Harry couldn't think