The Last Aerie by Brian Lumley Read Free Book Online Page B

Trask prayed that he hadn’t), “and if there’s any profit in it … then we alone reap the benefits. Can you really afford to refuse us? I should think you’d jump at the chance to help!”
    He was right. If the visitor was like or “of” Harry, he must never be allowed to fall so easily into the Opposition’s hands. What a weapon they’d make of him! Before Trask let that happen, and if it should be necessary, why he’d kill the visitor himself!
    “Very well,” he nodded, “you shall have our cooperation. But this is a busy time, Turkur, and if we’re to work together in Perchorsk there are things I have to see to here first. I’ll get my Duty Officer to phone you back, within the hour, to make the necessary arrangements.”
    “To phone me?” Tzonov raised his customary eyebrow. “Is it not better to talk face to face?”
    Trask smiled. “The walls of trust are built by degrees, my friend. First pebbles, later boulders.”
    The Russian nodded. “And they are just as easily tumbled. Remove a pebble, and the whole wall breaks. That is one of our sayings.”
    “Exactly,” Trask answered.
    “Very well,” Tzonov agreed. “ My Duty Officer will stand by for your Duty Officer’s call, for I too have things to put in order. Meanwhile, I shall look forward to working with you and yours.” His face disappeared from the screen and was replaced by white dazzle …
    “Just the two of us,” Trask spoke to his precogs. “Myself and one of you two. The flip of a coin.” He held a penny, his good-luck piece of pre-decimal coinage, between thumb and finger.
    Ian Goodly shook his head; his high-pitched voice belied his mournful expression as he answered, “No need for that, Ben. We already know.”
    Guy Teale pulled a wry face. “I’m staying here. That’s how we see it, anyway.”
    Trask shrugged and said to Goodly, “Then you’d better get your things together. It won’t be long.” His advice wasn’t necessary, but between them the espers kept their conversations as near normal as possible. As the precogs left his office, Trask saw David Chung waiting in the corridor and called him in.
    “David?”
    “I’d like to come with you.”
    “You think you’d be of use?”
    “I’m fascinated to know the connection between this thing and Harry Keogh.”
    “And that’s it?”
    “More or less.”
    Trask shook his head. “You’re one of our best, David, and I know you have enough to do right here. Also, I have to think of the Branch. If anything were to happen to us out there … well, the organization would be weakened enough without losing you, too. Still, it’s not my decision entirely; I’ve just been speaking to the Minister Responsible. He’s okayed it, however reluctantly, but just for the two of us. So I’m afraid that’s that. Incidentally, you’ll be in the chair while I’m away. And if anything was to happen to us in Perchorsk, you’d most likely stay in the chair. So you see: there’s no way we can also jeopardize the life of the heir apparent!”
    Chung remained silent, standing there before Trask’s desk, until the Head of Branch felt obliged to ask, “Was there something else?”
    Chung looked embarrassed. “Don’t you think it’s possible you made a mistake when you were talking to Tzonov on-screen?”
    “In what way?”
    “When you asked him if he thought his visitor at Perchorsk might be a spy for the Wamphyri, possibly working for Harry? Up until then Harry Keogh hadn’t been mentioned. It seemed to me an error, to bring up the question of the Necroscope.”
    Trask shook his head. “I only mentioned him by name, not by talent. I deliberately avoided even thinking of Harry’s talents. But you see, you’d already put thoughts of Harry into my head. They were in there, fresh after sixteen years. Tzonov is possibly the world’s finest telepath: his eyes look right into your mind. So even covered by all that static, I still wasn’t sure he wouldn’t read something.