he did it, Alec did it right.'
Thanks,' Harry breathed, and put the 'phone down.
And now he knew. Knew how to be himself again: by not being himself. Feelings of illicit atraction? Chemistry, that's al. Alec Kyle's chemistry. And the need to have a good stiff drink folowing a period of prolonged stress? Again, chemistry: the ex-precog's body doing its own thing - or rather the thing it had used to do.
And there stood Harry smack dab in the middle, firm in his determination to get used to his new body, without giving a moment's thought to the fact that it must get used to him!
So maybe a night on the town wasn't such a bad idea after al. Maybe then he'd be able to get it al going - get body and mind working together - and figure something out. And come to think of it, he did know where to go to get a drink, and probably a free one at that. She owed him that much at least.
Alec Kyle's personal body chemistry? Illicit atraction? Sheer loneliness? Maybe it was al of these things. And initials, certainly.
B.J.'s ...
BJ.'S
II
BJ.'S
It was 3 p.m. and just as grey in London as in Edinburgh, and even darker for Darcy Clarke, who had been sitting at his desk for the last hour, ever since the Necroscope called him, still feeling bad about things in general and wondering what the hell this latest 'thing' was all about. Alec Kyle's personal habits? Especially the fact that he'd liked a drink now and then? What in the world could that have to do with Harry's search for his wife and baby son? Answer: nothing. Which meant that Harry was still dealing with the same basic problem, still getting used to the fact of his new body.
And as if that weren't enough, Darcy thought, / had to go and fuck about inside his head! Or get someone to do it for me, anyway.
The 'had to' part was the only tiling that let Darcy live with it: the fact that E-Branch and the security of the people, the country, came first above all other considerations. But it had been inevitable from the moment the Necroscope had let him know that he would probably be moving on. Then, even hating it, Darcy had been obliged to set the thing in motion. But all the time he'd been hoping against hope that it would never have to be brought into being, and he'd kept right on hoping until the moment Harry had said he was through, definitely.
From then on it had all been down to Doctor James Anderson, whose business address was a consulting room and a highly rewarding practice in prestigious Harley Street. One hell of a step up for a man who only three years ago had been working the nightclub circuits as a stage hypnotist! But E-Branch had found and elevated him, which was about the same as saying that they owned him. And certainly he owed them. That was why he'd come in that night a half-hour after Darcy called for him, and why he had done what he'd done.
Sinister? But in a way it might be argued that everything E-Branch did had sinister implications for someone. Except this time it was being done to a friend. And that was what bothered Darcy the most: that this
time the Department of Dirty Tricks had come down on Harry Keogh.
Yet for all that Darcy felt guilty about this thing, the fact was that he hadn't initiated it. That had come from much higher up, from a grey, almost anonymous entity known only as the Branch's 'Minister Responsible'. It had been Darcy's duty merely to let the Minister know how things stood, and the Minister's to order counter measures.
And (Darcy was pleased to remind himself) they could very easily have been much harsher measures, except he'd been able to advise in that respect, too. So Harry had suffered a degree of minor, or maybe not so minor, interference: so what? He was still functioning, wasn't he? Darcy gave a small shudder as he put what might have been to the back of his mind.
As for why it had had to be done:
Harry Keogh was potentially the most powerful force in the world, for good or evil. He was the Necroscope, and Sir Keenan Gormley had 'spotted' him almost from scratch, and homed in on him with unerring instinct, recruiting him to E-Branch. But if Sir Keenan had 'discovered' him,