Necroscope

Now, for a moment resting his wrist and mind both, Kyle glanced at the dates again and shook his head. He still believed - instinctively knew - that all of this was the absolute truth, but there was one massively glaring anomaly here. An ambiguity he couldn't ignore. Kyle frowned, looked up at the apparition where it floated upright on the other side of the desk, blinked his eyes at this shimmering spectre of a man and said: 'There's something I don't quite understand.' Then he laughed, and not a little hysterically. 'I mean, there are a good many things here which I don't understand - but until now I've at least believed them. This is harder to believe.'

'Oh?' said the apparition.

Kyle nodded. Today's Monday,' he said. 'Sir Keenan is to be cremated tomorrow. The police have discovered nothing as yet and it seems almost blasphemous to keep his body, well, lying about in that condition.'

'Yes,' the other nodded his agreement.

'Well,' Kyle continued, 'the point is I know a lot of what you've told me to be the truth, and I suspect that the rest of it is too. You've told me things no one else outside myself and Sir Keenan should ever have known. But -'

'But?'

'But your story,' Kyle suddenly blurted, 'has already outstripped us! I've been keeping a record of your time-scale and you've just been telling me about the coming Wednesday, two days from now. According to you, Thibor Ferenczy isn't yet dead, won't be until Wednesday night!'

After a moment the other said, 'I can see how that must appear strange to you, yes. Time is relative, Alec, the same as space. Indeed the two go hand in hand. I'll go further than that: everything is relative. There is a Grand Scheme to things

Some of that escaped Kyle. For the moment he saw only what he wanted to see. 'You can read the future? That well?' His face was a mask of awe. 'And I thought I had a talent! But to be able to see the future so clearly is almost unbe-' and he stopped short and gasped. As if

things weren't incredible enough, a new, even more incredible thought had crossed his mind.

Perhaps his visitor saw it written in his face. At any rate he smiled a smile transparent as smoke from a cigarette, a smile that reflected not at all the light from the window but allowed it to pass right through. 'Is there something, Alec?' he asked.

'Where... where are you?' Kyle asked. 'I mean, where are you - the real, physical you - right now? Where are you speaking from? Or rather, when are you speaking from?'

Time is relative,' the spectre said again, still smiling.

'You're speaking to me from the future, aren't you?' Kyle breathed. It was the only answer. It was the only way the spectre could know all of this, the only way he could do all of this.

'You'll be very useful to me,' said the other, slowly nodding. 'It seems you have a sharp intuitive ability to match your precognition, Alec Kyle. Or maybe it's all part of the same talent. But now, shall we continue?'

Still gaping, Kyle again took up the pencil. 'I think you better had continue,' he whispered. 'You'd better tell me all of it, right to the end...'

Chapter Fifteen

Moscow, Friday evening, Dragosani's flat on the Pushkin Road.

It was growing dark by the time Dragosani gratefully let himself into his flat and poured himself a drink. The trains had been maddeningly slow on the journey from Romania, and Max Batu's absence had made the return trip seem that much longer. Batu's absence, yes, and Dragosani's growing feeling of urgency, this sensation of being rushed towards some colossal confrontation. Time was quickly passing and still there remained so much for him to do. Achingly tired, still he couldn't rest. Some instinct urged him onward, warned him against pausing in his set course.

With a second drink inside him and beginning to feel a little better, he telephoned the Chateau Bronnitsy and checked that Borowitz was still in mourning at his dacha at Zhukovka. Then he asked to speak to Igor Vlady but Vlady had already left for home. Dragosani phoned him there, asked if he could come round. The other agreed at once.

Vlady lived in his own state flatlet not too far away but Dragosani took his car anyway; in less than ten minutes he was seated in Vlady's tiny living-room, toying with a welcoming glass of vodka.

'Well, Comrade?' Vlady finally asked when they'd done with the usual formalities and preliminaries. 'What can I do for you?' He peered curiously, almost speculatively at Dragosani's dark glasses and gaunt grey features.

Dragosani nodded, as if he silently confirmed something or other, and said: 'I can see you've been expecting me.'

'Yes, I thought I might be seeing you,' Vlady carefully answered.

Dragosani decided against beating about the bush. If Vlady failed to produce the right answers he would simply kill him. He probably would anyway, eventually. 'Very well, I'm here,' he said. 'Now tell me: how's it going to be?'

Vlady was a small dark man and normally open as a book. That was the impression he achieved, anyway. Now he raised an eyebrow, put on an expression of mild surprise. 'How's what going to be?' he asked, innocently.

'Look, let's not fool around,' said Dragosani. 'You probably already know exactly why I've come here. That's what you're paid for: your ability to see things in advance. So I'll ask you again: how is it going to be?'

Vlady drew back, scowled. 'With Borowitz, you mean?'

'For starters, yes.'

Vlady's face grew strangely impassive, almost cold. 'He'll die,' he said, without emotion. 'Tomorrow, at midday or thereabouts. A heart attack. Except -' and he paused and frowned.

'Except?'

Vlady shrugged. 'A heart attack,' he repeated.

Dragosani nodded, sighed, relaxed a little. 'Yes,' he said, 'that's how it will be. And what about me - and you?'

'I don't do readings for myself,' said Vlady. 'It's tempting, of course, but far too frustrating. To know the future and not be able to change it. Also, it's frightening. As for you... that's a bit odd.'

Dragosani didn't like the sound of that. He put down his drink and leaned forward. 'What's odd?' he asked. This might be very important to him.

Vlady took up both of their glasses and poured more vodka. 'First let's get something straight, you and I,' he said. 'Comrade, I'm not your rival. I have no ambitions

in respect of E-Branch. None at all. I know Borowitz had me in mind for the job - along with yourself - but I'm just not interested. I think you should know that.'

'You mean you'll step aside for me?'

Tm not stepping aside for anyone,' the other shook his head. 'I just don't want the job, that's all. I don't envy any man that job. Yuri Andropov won't rest until he's crushed the lot of us - even if it takes the rest of his lifetime! Frankly, I wish to hell I was out of it altogether. Did you know I was a trained architect, Dragosani? Well, I am. Read the future? I'd far prefer to read the plans of great buildings any day.'

'Why do you tell me this?' Dragosani was curious. 'It has nothing to do with anything.'

'Yes it has. It has something to do with living. And I want to live. You see, Dragosani, I know that you will have something to do with Borowitz's death. With his "heart attack". And if you can tackle him and win, which you will, then what chance would I have? I'm not brave, Dragosani, and I'm not stupid. E-Branch is all yours...'

Again Dragosani leaned forward. His eyes were pricks of red light gleaming through the dark lenses of his spectacles. 'But your job is to tell Borowitz this sort of thing, Igor,' he rasped. 'Especially -this sort of thing. Are you saying you haven't told him? Or does he in fact already know that I'll be ... involved?'