Champions Of The Gods

Chapter Nine

No light shone in the chambers of the computer complex. The electronic monitors that kept watch didn't need any light, and no people were here tonight. There might be one or two night owls still working in the laboratories along the main corridor, but Katerina Shumilova hadn't seen any. Hopefully they hadn't seen her either, but even if they had, why should they be concerned? She was a computer technician, with every right and privilege to come and go in the computer complex when she pleased.

She was also a crack agent for the KGB, the Soviet secret police. Her presence here as a full-fledged member of the complex's staff was a major breakthrough for Soviet intelligence. She had been here three months. Tonight she was to bring off the first full-fledged act of sabotage against the «Project.»

It would not destroy or disable anything that could not be repaired or replaced fairly quickly. Doing that would risk exposing herself to British counterintelligence, throwing away all the time and effort involved in placing her here. The KGB preferred not to waste important and well-placed agents to win small victories.

No, what she would do tonight would simply cause temporary but spectacular and annoying damage. She would see what the other people on the Project did to repair that damage. She would listen very carefully to what they said. Everything she saw and heard would tell her more about the nature of the computers involved in the Project, and therefore more about the Project itself.

For all the time she had spent in the complex, she still knew practically nothing about the ultimate purpose of the Project. She knew a good deal, but all of it was fairly obvious.

The Project was vital to British security. She knew that simply from the size of the complex and the expense involved in building and equipping it. With British capitalism in its final agonies, the British would never pour tens of millions of pounds into something that wasn't expected to produce enormous returns.

The Project itself involved some major scientific breakthrough, and that breakthrough involved advanced computers. She knew that from even a casual look around the complex, and also from the fact that Lord Leighton appeared to be heavily involved in the Project. Leighton's reputation as a brilliant, innovative scientist, an absolute wizard with computers, was worldwide.

British intelligence was taking a hand in the Project. She knew that, or at least suspected it. She had seen the man known as J in the complex too often for there to be any other explanation. That was neither surprising nor mysterious. If the Project was as important as it seemed, of course British intelligence would be concerned with it. They would be fools not to be, and Katerina did not think British intelligence was foolish. Those Soviet agents who thought otherwise very seldom lived long enough to learn from their mistakes.

There was one unanswered question she'd found worth thinking about. What was Richard Blade's connection with the Project? It was an important one, considering how often he was mentioned in even the few documents she'd been able to examine. She'd also seen him in the complex twice. None of this told her very much.

She was familiar with the KGB's dossiers on Blade and on other top ranked British intelligence operatives. What she knew of Blade only deepened the mystery. He was a field man, a superb and formidable one with an almost legendary reputation. He was about the last man in British intelligence who would be assigned to any sort of desk job in connection with a research project.

She realized that it was time she stopped running her mind over ground she'd already covered many times. Somebody might still come in, and then there would certainly be delay, perhaps awkward questions. Ten years of training and field work had hammered a number of rules into her. One of them was: don't waste opportunities.

She unbuttoned the top two buttons of her laboratory coat and reached into the concealed pocket sewn into it just under her left breast. She drew out the doctored tape, checked the serial number, and double-checked the setting on the anti-tamper charge. Then she reached down and opened the lid of the main tape storage bin. She'd seen Lord Leighton do it a number of times, and her memory was superb. She could match every one of his motions as precisely as a ballet dancer.

The tapes already on the racks inside the bin gleamed faintly in the dim glow from the small light set in the lid. There was a space near the end of the second row from the top. Katerina took a firm grip on her tape and reached down toward the empty space.

If the computer rooms hadn't been soundproofed, her scream would have been heard all over the complex. The soft thud as she fell unconscious to the floor wouldn't have been heard more than a few feet away.

The signal did not awaken Lord Leighton, since he wasn't asleep. He was seated at the desk in the small room where he lived while Blade was in Dimension X. Being awake at three o'clock in the morning was nothing unusual for him. He seldom slept more than four hours a night. When a man is past eighty, he knows that he has only so many days' work left. Every hour spent sleeping is one that can't be put to some better use.

Then the desk lamp started flashing. Three shorts and a long, three shorts and a long, three shorts and a long-the letter V, over and over again. The lamp was hooked into the anti-sabotage devices built into several of the key elements of the computer system. Each element had its own code letter. The letter V meant the main tape file.

Leighton grinned. There was real pleasure in seeing his own work justifying itself. He had installed and wired in every one of those anti-sabotage devices with his own hands, working late at night and saying nothing to anybody. That was one certain way of keeping a secret-make sure it would die with you.

It occurred to Leighton that few people might have suspected in any case. Few people realized how well he could still handle a spot welder or a circuit diagram. Of course, they didn't realize just how long he'd been at work, and what that meant.

Sixty years ago there had been fewer high-priced technicians around, and many more chances of electrocuting yourself in the average laboratory. He was one of the last survivors of that generation of scientists. He hadn't forgotten all the things he'd had to learn in order to do his early work.

He stood up, flicked off the light, and pulled on his coat. He had better go see what had happened. Then as an afterthought he reached into his desk drawer and pulled out the huge Webley revolver J had given him for a birthday present last year. Frankly, he thought it was rather, primitive. He would have preferred a hand laser, and he hoped to live long enough to see them available. But he couldn't turn down a present from J, or neglect to keep it in working condition. Besides, the anti-sabotage devices might have really caught a saboteur, instead of having some sort of electronic fit. If that was the case, the gun might come in handy.

The device had been telling the truth. Lord Leighton realized that the moment he saw the white-coated figure sprawled facedown on the floor by the tape bin. He wasn't going to need the gun, though.

He knelt down, made sure the woman was still breathing normally, then opened the door to the main computer room, his own inner sanctum. Gritting his teeth at the pain in his back, he hauled the woman through the door. He kept on hauling until he reached the changing booth, then shoved the woman inside. She would not be very comfortable, but once he locked the door she could see and hear nothing. As for getting out, that would take a stick of dynamite.

Then Leighton pulled the observer seat down and collapsed on it for a moment. He hadn't exerted himself like that in months. Unfortunately, this was just the beginning of what looked like a long, tiring night.

After a few minutes he heaved himself to his feet and went to the telephone. Assuming that J slept at all while Blade was in Dimension X, he slept at his London flat. The scientist punched in the code for J's security phone and waited.

The conversation was brief, at least on Leighton's part.

«Hello, J? Leighton here. You remember I mentioned something about leaving a few mousetraps around the complex? Well, I've got a mouse, and I'd like your help with it. One of the lab technicians, a woman. Yes, full interrogation. So come loaded for bear. Sorry, didn't mean to imply that you're forgetting your business. Half an hour? Good. Come straight on into the main rooms. I've got her in the changing booth.»

He hung up and sat back down. He would never have admitted it to J, now or at any other time, but he was glad to have the spymaster around and available. When things came to a head as they had now, J knew a great deal more than he did about what to do.

The clock showed just after five. On the surface far above them, London's early-morning life would be starting up. Here in the main computer room there was nothing but two tired men, one sleeping woman, a gigantic computer, and a knotty problem that involved all of them.

J finished resterilizing the hypodermic needle and put it away in the battered leather case that held his interrogation kit. He shook his head wearily. The last time he'd handled an interrogation personally, he'd been fifteen years younger. He looked down at the woman asleep on the blanket they'd spread on the tiled floor, and then at Lord Leighton.

«She'll sleep now for-how long?» asked the scientist.

«With this dosage, about four hours. I can give her up to six successive doses. We can keep her out until we've figured out what to do with her.»

Leighton nodded. «I was hoping you'd say that. You know, she's a bit of a sticky problem.»

J laughed. There was no humor or amusement in that laugh, however-only a great deal of bitter experience. «The logical thing to do would be ring up the Special Branch and MI6. They can take her away and do further work on her much better than we can.»

«Haven't we learned enough already?»

«Enough, yes,» said J. «But not necessarily as much as she knows or as much as we could learn from several more days of interrogation. We can't tackle that without calling in more people and turning her over to them.»

«Then why not do it?»

«Two reasons. One, she already knows more about the Project than any of our intelligence people do. Second, even if she didn't, we'd have to tell them a good deal in order for them to interrogate her effectively.»

«So?»

«So that means a major breach of the security of Project Dimension X the minute we let her out of this room. A breach large enough so that sooner or later things that we don't want them to hear will get back to the opposition. At the very least they'll know we have Katerina. They may learn how much we know. They might even find out how much she knows. That isn't enough by itself to do us immediate damage. It is enough to make the KGB make the Project an even higher-priority target than it is already. That could do damage. The KGB is a formidable, tenacious, and ruthless opponent. I take them very seriously indeed.»

«You don't seem to have much faith in our own intelligence people,» said Leighton.

J started to flare angrily, then realized that Leighton hadn't meant to insult him. It was a sober scientist's question, and it deserved a sober scientific answer. He rubbed his eyes, which were beginning to smart with strain and fatigue, then spoke slowly.

«We do the best we can to keep our own organizations secure. But it is not humanly possible to guarantee one hundred-percent security against penetration by a first-class opposition. The KGB is first-class. It is almost a statistical certainty that there is a route to the opposition from inside the groups that would be interrogating Katerina.

«Besides, even if the opposition hasn't penetrated, what about our friends and allies? The CIA might not want to blow up the complex or kidnap you or assassinate Blade. But they might want-I believe the American phrase is 'a piece of the action'-for themselves and for the United States. Furthermore, if they know anything, we have to worry about their leaks as well as our own. The more people who know, the worse the problem gets, as I'm sure you've already realized. Your own mousetraps-«

J broke off as he realized that Lord Leighton wasn't listening to him. He was about to clear his throat to get Leighton's attention. Then he realized that the scientist was staring blank-faced at the ceiling, eyes half-closed and lips pursed, both hands clasped behind his back. It was one of the poses Lord Leighton adopted when he was working with total concentration on a particularly knotty problem.

Finally Leighton unclasped his hands and looked at J. «A question. Would we lose anything essential if Katerina were to disappear tonight, without any further interrogation, and without anyone else knowing what happened to her?»

J shook his head. «No. In fact, the opposition would have a nice knotty mystery on their hands if she just vanished. But how are we going to get her out of the-?» He broke off, as he saw Lord Leighton's eyes drift toward the glass booth in the center of the room-the glass booth from which Blade departed on his journeys to Dimension X. J's eyes met Leighton's. Each read agreement in the other's expression.

Why not? thought J. He couldn't imagine a more complete solution to the old problem of disposing of the body. There would be no blood or signs of a struggle-the woman would be alive and healthy until the moment Lord Leighton pulled down on the master switch. After that, Katerina would die more quickly than a good many people J had ordered killed, or killed with his own hands. He recalled a German colonel, dead these fifty years from a bayonet thrust into his stomach. There had been many others.

«Very good,» he said.

Leighton nodded. «Do you have anything that will wake her up in a hurry?»

«Why? Can't we just strap her in as she is?»

Leighton shook his head. «Our information indicates that the computer won't operate reliably on an unconscious mind. She needs to be reasonably awake and alert, but cooperative. Can you prepare her that way?»

«Oh, certainly,» said J. He opened his case, and as he did so an irresistibly amusing thought struck him. He straightened up with the ampoules and needle in his hand and looked at Leighton.

«I've just thought of something. Suppose our friend Katerina turns out to be our long-awaited new person? Suppose she can somehow travel into Dimension X and remain alive and sane?»

Lord Leighton looked pained. It was obvious that he thought J's remark in something less than the best taste.

Katerina knew that something unusual was going to happen to her. She suspected it was going to involve the computer that loomed so monstrously over her, and the glass booth in the center of the room. At least the two men standing over her showed no signs of taking her anywhere else, or calling anyone else to take her away.

Also, they kept looking toward the booth and the metal chair inside it.

They had her full of drugs, drugs that kept her awake and aware but kept her from moving. In spite of everything, she was glad she was awake, She had been a candidate in physics at Moscow University before her KGB training began, and she still retained a scientist's curiosity. She would stay alert and observant until the end. She accepted that she would never leave this room alive, but she would at least satisfy her own curiosity if she couldn't do anything else.

That thought calmed her. A moment later her calm vanished, as the man she knew to be J bent down and calmly began undressing her. He worked quickly, not stopping until she was entirely nude. That in itself didn't bother her so much. What did bother her was the way both J and Lord Leighton looked at her and touched her. She knew she was an attractive and desirable woman. Quite a few men had said so, and several had responded accordingly. These two were handling her as impersonally as if she was a side of frozen mutton, lifeless, sexless, and uninteresting.

It was even worse when they began smearing the black cream on her skin. It smelled dreadful, and they were smearing it on in great dripping, gooey handfuls. They were touching every inch of her skin, even smearing the stuff into her pubic hair. But they were still doing it impersonally. Now they reminded her of two mechanics hard at work on an automobile.

They lifted her, carried her over to the booth, and sat her down in the chair. The seat was made of black rubber that felt unpleasantly cold against her bare skin. Lord Leighton went to work, attaching an incredible number of electrodes to every part of her body. From each electrode a wire ran off into the computer. Leighton's touch and manner remained as lifeless as the computer, even when he attached an electrode to each of her nipples.

Eventually Lord Leighton ran out of electrodes, or at least of places on her body to attach them. Lights were flashing on the computer's main console. Now it was obviously programmed and ready for-whatever was about to happen. Katerina found herself wanting to hold her breath, forced herself not to, but could not make herself relax. In another few moments she would know the secret of this Project, a mightier secret than any Soviet agent or scientist had ever unearthed. A moment after that she would be dead, but she would be dead knowing, rather than ignorant. Somehow that was enormously important to her.

The two men were standing side by side in front of the main console now. Both of them were looking at her, but Lord Leighton's hand was resting on the plastic handle of a large red switch. His fingers closed on the handle and began to pull the switch downward in its slot. It reached the bottom, and Katerina's world exploded.

It felt as though a giant hand with steel fingers ending in red-hot claws had clamped down on her head, squeezing and squeezing until her skull cracked and her brains ran out and were charred by the claws. She had never felt such pain, never even imagined that she could feel such pain. Then another giant hand clamped itself just as tightly on her stomach and groin.

She screamed then, screamed in pain, screamed in fear, screamed at the sense of loss that filled her. She was going to die without knowing what the Project was all about, die in agony, die with her body bursting open like a rotten fruit and melting like butter in the sun. She screamed as if by screaming loudly enough she could forget the pain or drive it away. She screamed, and screamed, and screamed-