Viki struggled. She kicked him in the chest. «I am not,» she moaned. «I'm not, Dick. Really. Please. I am terribly sore there. I don't want—»
He dropped her. She fell into his arms and he crushed her with one big arm and kissed her fiercely. «You do want,» he told her.
Abruptly she stopped struggling and slid her sharp little tongue into his mouth. She nodded and pulled away for a moment to say, «Yes, you awful beast. You make me want. God — I must be as crazy as you are.»
Blade lifted her by the elbows and carried her to the fire. He kissed her again. Viki responded avidly, but said, «There is no tenderness in you, Dick. None at all. You are just rogue male, all of you. And I am mad for you. I don't understand any of it. Nor you. Nor me.»
She was wearing a heavy cable-stitched sweater. As he searched under it, pulled it high and unfastened her brassiere, Blade admitted the accusation. It had not always been true. There had been a time—
To hell with that. One did not live in the past. Nor, in his profession, did one count on the future. There was only now.
The brassiere came loose. He lifted each perfect breast from its nylon sling. Soft milk-white marble brushed with flickering fire shadow. He caressed and kneaded and felt her go lax. Her knees sagged and he held her tight.
He pulled the sweater up over her dark cap of hair and tossed it away. The brassiere followed. Viki stood naked from the waist, her piquant face uplifted to his, the gypsy eyes narrowed and watching him. Her hands, small red-nailed talons, reached inside his robe and pounced. She sank against him and moaned.
«I can't, darling. I just can't. You are just too enormous. I told you— You have made me so sore now I can hardly walk. Please, Dick, can't we— I mean I–I know other ways. I'll make you happy. I promise.»
Blade was not a selfish man. Much of his enormous success with women was due to his regard for their pleasure. He gave her a half smile and said, «But will I make you happy? That is the question, ducks.»
Viki pulled his robe open and stared down. She would not look at him. It was either a trick of the firelight — or she was blushing.
«Oh, yes, darling. I will be quite happy. I really rather like to do it, you know.»
She giggled suddenly. «You are the first one, man or woman, that I have ever admitted that to.»
«Your secret is safe with me,» Blade said as he carried her to the bed. «And I want you to be happy, Viki. I really do. So if you like to do it you certainly shall do it.»
He did not awaken until after two. The fire had expired. Viki was sleeping soundly beside him, her mouth open a bit. Blade pushed it shut with a gentle finger and rolled out of bed. The cottage was cold and the gale from the Channel was gathering strength. He got into his robe and went to the phone, resolutely passing the brandy bottle and the siphon. No more of that. He might be afraid of going into Dimension X again but he was no drunk. And no coward. No one would ever know of his fear but himself, and he would keep it to himself. He would handle it somehow. Because he must.
He got a trunk call through to the office in London. J answered on the third ring. He sounded tired, but his remonstrance was mild enough.
«You took your time about calling back, dear fellow. Delay in message?»
«No, sir. I was swimming in the Channel and then, well, sir, I had some other business to attend to. Then I fell asleep. Sorry.»
«No real matter,» J said. 'It is just that I want you to stop past the office in the morning before you go on to Prince's Gate for the briefing. I want a chat with you. Understood?»
Mystified, Blade said that he understood. «That's all, sir?»
He heard J yawn in London. «That is all, my boy. And, er, no need to mention this little visit to Lord L. Also understood?»
Blade agreed. J said goodnight and hung up after suggesting that Blade get all the sleep he could.
Blade cradled the phone and stood for a moment staring at the pile of gray ashes in the fireplace. Viki snored softly. Blade glanced at the brandy bottle and shook his head. For the first time in weeks he didn't, really didn't, want a drink. Maybe that phase was over. Now if he could just get the slimy ice out of his guts whenever he thought of Dimension X.
He saw no point in going back to bed. He would not sleep again and it was better to stay awake and try to think this thing through. In the final analysis a man had to help himself — no one else could.
Blade rebuilt the fire, pulled up a chair and, smoking an infrequent pipe, stared into the flames and wondered where he would be this time tomorrow night? Would there be fire in this new Dimension X? Would they know the secret of flame?
What weapons? What dangers? What kind of men must he face — if they were men — and what sort of brains would they have? Cunning, cruel, complex or childish?
Viki snorted in her sleep and rolled over. Blade smiled. Who would have thought little Viki to be such an accomplished fellatrice? Blushing and shamed, or at least shamming it, and performing with an expertise that bespoke long experience. He smiled again and shook his head. How could you know, really know, about people? Anyone — even himself. People were robots wearing masks. They kept their real selves locked up in the vaults of their skulls. All the world ever saw was a reasonable facsimile. Even himself. Even Richard Blade. Who could ever guess about him? Guess at the unguessable.
He stood up and brushed his hand swiftly through the air. There. He had just invaded a dimension that he, nor any other living man with a normal brain, could not perceive or comprehend. This time tomorrow, with his brain cells restructured by the computer, he might well be wandering in that dimension. He alone of all the men in all the world.
In that moment Blade began to understand a little. And felt a growing relief. It was not so much fear — as fear — that plagued him. It was instead the terrible loneliness that he must bear. He examined the idea for several minutes and found that he was being honest with himself. The awful loneliness that he alone must bear. Just to be able to tell someone would help, but that he could not do. It was a burden that he must carry alone.
Even Lord Leighton and J could not share the load. They knew and yet they did not know. They had never been out there.
Blade laughed aloud. So be it. He was glad. Loneliness he could bear. Fear he could not. Not for long. It was good to know the true nature of his enemy. And now he could have a drink.
He poured himself a large brandy and drank it straight, then hurled the glass into the fireplace. And laughed again. He felt so much better, like a man let out of a prison cell.
Viki stirred at the sound of shattering glass. She peered from beneath the covers at him. «What is it, Dick? Are you getting drunk all by yourself?»
Blade went to tuck her in. He kissed her lightly and patted her shapely rump. «No, ducks. Now go back to sleep. I'll be getting you up at five and we've a long cold ride ahead.»
«I still think you're mad,» she said, and fell back into sleep.
Chapter Three
Blade, naked but for the loincloth, his body smeared with tar grease, sat in what he had come to think of as the «electric chair» and watched Lord Leighton tape the last shiny electrode to his inner calf. Lord L, in a long white surgeon's coat that covered his hump, seemed his usual cheerful and efficient sell. Not exactly a benign type, the old man, but Blade had never thought of him as sinister. Nor did he now. J was upset and nervous over what he imagined Lord L's plans to be.
An hour earlier, in J's cramped office in Copra House in the city, Blade had listened to his chief's suspicions with growing incredulity. J came very near to making Lord L out to be a kind of Dr. Frankenstein.
«I tell you, Dick, he means to get a knife into your brain!» J tapped his pipe nervously on his teeth. «His Lordship isn't satisfied with things as they are, particularly with your memory retention. He won't be satisfied until he works out a means of direct communication with you while you are in Dimension X.»