The Shadow Project, page 13
“Here we are, I think,” Sir Roland said, and slowed the picture to its normal speed as Danny was saying: “I’ll wave to you as I come out of my body.” Opal noticed that he was gripping the edge of the chair, probably because he was nervous. But he didn’t look as if he was about to attack Fran. He wasn’t even looking in her direction.
“That would be nice,” Fran said. “Are you all set?”
“Hit the juice!” Danny told her cheerfully.
The overhead camera showed Fran reaching out to the control console. The microphones picked up the low growl of an electronic organ. Beside Opal, Michael leaned forward. Danny looked around vaguely as if trying to discover where the sound was coming from. Then it stopped.
Opal gasped out loud. On the screen something struck Danny Lipman with such force that he was bowled over onto a display case. Broken glass sounded from the speakers. “Jesus!” George Hanover exclaimed.
“What the hell is that?” asked Carradine. He was leaning forward, his eyes locked on the screen.
Michael hissed something under his breath. Opal thought it might have been demon.
There was half a heartbeat as the creature stopped and Opal could see what it was: a gray, naked, apelike thing with vaguely feline features, clawed hands, and reddish, hate-filled eyes. It tilted its head briefly to one side as if listening, then launched itself across the room with superhuman speed. For a split second Opal thought it might attack Danny again, but it ignored him in favor of Fran. Its limbs actually blurred as it attacked her. Fran screamed and blood spurted across the room. Opal felt suddenly, violently sick and turned her head away.
“It wasn’t Danny,” said Mr. Hanover in surprise. “Danny didn’t kill her.”
Opal forced herself to turn back to the screen. Fran was clearly dead. She was lying on her back, eyes open, her clothes shredded and blood oozing from a dozen wounds. The thing was actually squatting on her chest. Then over an endless second, something almost unbelievably frightening happened. It turned its head to look toward the camera lens so that it seemed to stare directly into her eyes. Then it turned away and…
Opal felt her stomach convulse and retched violently. But now there was no question of looking away. She was paralyzed by the sheer horror of the scene.
“Hey!”
It took Opal a moment to realize where the exclamation came from. Then she saw that Danny had climbed to his feet and was moving unsteadily toward the beast. The thing climbed off Fran’s bloody chest and loped with slow, horrid determination toward him. Even watching the security tape, Opal wanted to scream at Danny to run, but Danny didn’t run. Instead, he threw himself toward it.
The sheer speed of the creature was terrifying. Danny didn’t lay a hand on it, and suddenly there was blood oozing from his thigh. He half fell backward, against a table. The thing crouched and leaped. Danny’s hand came up and there was something in it, a knife or dagger of some sort. He stabbed the creature as it struck him.
The screen went blank.
“What was that?” Opal demanded. She looked desperately from one face to the other. Michael was still staring at the blank screen, his mouth open in shock.
“This is the point where the alarms went off,” said Carradine.
“There seems to have been some sort of electrical discharge,” Mr. Hanover volunteered. “It set off the alarms and burned out the security cameras.”
“Yes, but what happened?” Opal demanded.
Her father shook his head. “You know as much as we do. Danny said this was what happened—something attacked them…some thing attacked them—but he was fairly incoherent and his whole story sounded utterly fantastic, so we didn’t believe him.”
Opal swung around to Carradine. “What was that?”
Carradine had the look of a man in shock. “I don’t know. When my men reached G.R. 1, there was nothing there. Obviously. Otherwise we would have believed Danny.”
Opal blinked. “Do you think it escaped?” She only just managed to suppress a shiver. If the creature was on the loose…
But Carradine was shaking his head. “There was nowhere it could go. You know the sort of security we have in the operations rooms. I think we have to assume Danny killed it.”
“What did Danny say happened?”
“He said there was a wild animal and it disappeared in a flash of light. It didn’t sound all that likely until now.”
“Can we see where it came from?” Michael asked suddenly. The shock was gone from his face, and he was looking grave but in control. Opal admired his aplomb.
“Ah,” said Opal’s father. He picked up the remote again. When the screen flashed back into life, the tape had reverted to the scene where Fran and Danny entered the room. In a moment Sir Roland had forwarded it to the point just before the appearance of the creature. “At normal speed, the impression you get is that it jumps out of a cupboard. I’m going to slow it down.”
He pressed the button and the picture slowed. “Hit the juice!” Danny said in a deep bass voice.
Opal’s eyes were glued to the screen now that she knew where to look. Even so, the creature seemed to leap from a cupboard—a closed cupboard—albeit in slow motion. Then the picture reversed and the speed dropped again to frame-by-frame. There was no sound: the picture simply jerked forward one step at a time. Danny sat in his position looking vaguely uneasy. Fran’s hand edged toward the controls. Opal watched the cupboard and nothing else.
Flip! It happened between one frame and the next. In the first, everything was as it should be. The cupboard was closed. Fran Hitchin’s hand was on the switch. In the next, the creature was there, hanging in midair outside the cupboard. It hadn’t jumped out of the cupboard at all. It seemed simply to have…materialized in the room.
There was a drawn-out moment of stunned silence; then Sir Roland said, “We’d better let young Danny go.”
Carradine pulled a set of keys from his pocket and tossed them to Opal, who caught them reflexively. “Usual cell,” he said.
“You want me to release him?”
Carradine said soberly, “He’ll be less angry with you.”
Michael put a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”
She appreciated that, whatever his earlier behavior. The sooner Danny was released, the better. If everyone here was in shock from watching a replay of Fran’s violent death, imagine what Danny must feel, having lived through it. And he’d been injured in the process. She stood up. “Yes, all right.”
But when they reached the prison block, the door of Danny’s cell stood open and the cell itself was empty.
38
Danny, Beaconsfield
There were eight men in the basement. Six were squatting at the tips of a large six-pointed star painted inside a circle on the floor. Outside the circle was a large painted triangle. The seventh was the man Danny had been following, except that he was now in two places at once. One of him sat cross-legged in the center of the circle, head bowed, looking as if he was fast asleep. His twin was gliding toward him from a closed doorway.
From his hiding place in the depths of a gloomy fireplace, Danny suddenly realized there weren’t eight men at all, but seven. The moving figure was the man’s energy body, now approaching its physical counterpart. He watched fascinated as the two gently blended and the man in the circle raised his head.
There was an immediate shout from the remaining six. One of them called out something in what sounded like Russian, or possibly Hungarian, but the man in the center snapped sharply, “In English! While in this country, we speak English always so that it may become our habit.”
The man who had spoken looked suitably chastened. “Yes, Master Farrakhan.”
But another called out at once, “How went the ilmu khodam, Master? Did our servant teach our enemies a lesson?”
Farrakhan’s posture relaxed as he allowed himself a small, cold smile. “Most successful, Pieter. He carried one of the accursed British agents straight to hell!” There was a burst of general laughter. As it faded, the man Farrakhan added soberly, “But not the girl; and our servant was destroyed in the process.”
His followers nodded solemnly one after another. They looked like hard, ruthless men, accustomed to loss.
“It is of small importance,” Farrakhan was saying. “Now we know this nest of vipers can be penetrated. What we send next will kill the girl.” He gave a thin smile.
What girl? Danny wondered. His mind was turning somersaults trying to make sense of what he was hearing. These goons had sent a servant to kill somebody. And Farrakhan—obviously their leader—went to find out if the murderer had succeeded. Went to the Project. But there’d only been one killing at the Project—poor Fran—and nobody’s servant was responsible for that one.
What girl? If it was somebody else in the Project, it had to be Opal. She was the only girl there at the moment. Danny frowned. Opal had been spying on the Skull—he’d overheard them talking about it. Maybe these guys were a Sword of Wrath terrorist cell. Danny watched to see which one was the servant who was supposed to sneak off and kill Opal, but nobody moved.
Farrakhan said, “Are you prepared for ilmu khodam? Are you prepared to call our vengeance?”
It had the sound of a ritual question and it certainly produced a ritual response. The others chanted, “We are prepared, Master.” They looked excited, even frenzied, like members of a cult.
Farrakhan stood up and said, “Take your places as Officers of the Conjuration.” Three of the others walked to the points of the painted triangle. There were religious symbols around the edge of that as well. Danny would have given a lot to have a closer look, but he wasn’t going to risk it.
“Prepare!” Farrakhan ordered.
There was an immediate scurry of activity, and for a minute Danny couldn’t figure what was going on. Two of the men sprinkled the circle thoroughly with water. Others set lighted candles at the six points of the painted star. Someone else set up a burner and lit several blocks of charcoal with a tiny blowtorch from the pocket of his coat. He blew on the charcoal until it glowed and sparked, then sprinkled it liberally with a granular gray powder. Billows of heavily perfumed smoke began to roll across the room.
When the preparations were over, somebody switched off the electric light. With the only illumination now coming from the candles, the scene looked like a horror-movie set.
Farrakhan knelt down in his former position in the center of the circle, but turned so he was facing the painted triangle. The man he’d called Pieter, a burly middle-aged East European, took up a position directly behind him.
“Begin!” Farrakhan commanded.
The two other men inside the circle began to chant in low, sonorous voices. The sound reminded Danny of the organ note he’d heard when Fran switched on the infrasound. “Deliver thou the scribe Farrakhan, whose word is truth, from the Watchers, who would slay those in the following of Osiris.”
“May the Watchers never gain mastery over me, and may I never fall under their knives!” responded Farrakhan in a high, melodious voice.
Danny watched, fascinated. The one word that jumped out at him was Osiris. Osiris was one of the gods in ancient Egypt. He knew that from his history lessons.
Farrakhan was still chanting. “For I know their names, and I know the being, Matchet, who is among them.” He laid extra emphasis on the word Matchet, and as he spoke it, all six of his companions, inside and outside the circle, began a wordless howl that was the weirdest sound Danny had ever heard in his life.
As the howl died down, Farrakhan’s body arched backward as he called out loudly, “It is I, the scribe Farrakhan, whose word is truth, who calls now on him who watcheth from the Lake of Fire, who feedeth on the living, who devoureth bodies, swalloweth hearts, and voideth filth, himself unseen.”
The big man, Pieter, placed his hands on either side of Farrakhan’s neck as if preparing to strangle him. His flat thumbs laced over each other at the base of Farrakhan’s skull, where his head joined with his spine.
“His name is Devourer Everlasting,” Farrakhan sang out. “He liveth in the Lake of Unt. Hail, Lord of Terror, who dost feed on the hearts of men! Come now and do the bidding of thy master and thy scribe!”
Pieter grunted as he pressed down with his thumbs so violently that Farrakhan’s spine gave an audible crack. Farrakhan himself convulsed, and his entire body jackknifed forward so that he might have fallen on his face had Pieter not quickly grabbed him by the shoulders. Farrakhan’s eyes were blank, his face contorted.
The man stationed at the apex of the triangle began to tremble violently. His eyes were unfocused too. Suddenly he clutched his throat, gasping and gurgling as if he was choking. Then, to Danny’s disbelief, he slowly levitated till his feet floated a foot or eighteen inches above the cellar floor.
There was something happening inside the triangle. Out of nowhere, a roiling mist had begun to form. It swirled shapelessly for a moment, then began to take on form. A head appeared, then faded, only to appear again. The mist began to coalesce into the loose outlines of a body.
“Come, Devourer,” Farrakhan shrieked. “Come to us now and feed!”
And suddenly there was something towering over the triangle. It was still indistinct, but it clawed like a beast at a window, as if trying to tear the very fabric of reality to gain access. The thing had horns and fangs and fiery eyes. It was immense, slab-muscled, and still growing. It made the creature that killed Fran look like a Chihuahua. If the thing that killed Fran was some sort of beast, this thing was the mother of all beasts. It continued to grow larger and more solid with every passing second.
Danny slid back through the wall, his heart pounding.
39
Opal, the Shadow Project
“Escaped again,” Michael said. He stuck his head into the cell and looked around to make sure. But the cell was definitely empty.
“I don’t see how he could have.” Opal frowned.
Michael came back out into the corridor, biting his lip thoughtfully. “He did it before.”
Opal shook her head. “Mr. Carradine let him escape last time. Daddy told me. But they took away his burglary gear after that, so I don’t see how he could have….”
They were walking together back along the corridor when a hand reached out of the empty guard station and dragged Opal inside. She gave a squawk of surprise and Michael spun fiercely before an urgent voice hissed, “You have to get out of here!”
“Danny!” Opal exclaimed. “Danny, they know you didn’t—”
“We have to get you out of here,” Danny said. “Michael can come too, if you like, only we need to get moving now before—”
“Hold on,” Michael said. He reached out and firmly removed Danny’s hand from Opal’s shoulder.
“No, it’s all right, Danny,” Opal said. “You don’t have to go anywhere. You’re not in trouble anymore. They know you didn’t kill Fran now. They know it was—” She stopped, suddenly at a loss. What was it that killed Fran Hitchin? “A wild animal of some sort,” she finished lamely.
“That was no wild animal,” Michael muttered.
“I’m not the one who’s in trouble,” Danny said. “You are. And Michael’s right—it was no wild animal that killed Fran.”
“Why is Opal in trouble?” Michael asked quickly.
Opal said, “Danny, I know it must have been a big shock for you when you were actually there and saw Fran die, and I realize—”
“Don’t you ever listen?” Danny asked her. “I’m trying to save your life here.”
“Danny—” Michael said warningly, but Opal cut in.
“How did you know about that?” she asked, staring at Danny.
“About what?”
“The Sword of Wrath plot to kill me. You weren’t there when Father told us.”
“We don’t have time for Twenty Questions,” Danny said urgently. “I don’t know if it’s Sword of Wrath or the Hole-in-the-Wall Gang. I just know there’s something coming after you that looks like it could eat us all for dinner.”
But Opal was backing away from him. “The only people who knew about the plot were MI5 and Father, until Father told the rest of us. You couldn’t have known about it—you were in jail.”
“I don’t know what killed Fran,” Danny said. “And if you don’t want—”
“You just turned up here one night, broke in, and we don’t really know all that much about you, so how do we know you’re not with Sword of Wrath yourself?”
“Because I’m not some bleeding nutcase who goes around blowing himself up, am I?!” Danny shouted. He got himself under control enough to drop his voice. “And you,” he said, “are in big trouble if we don’t get you out of this place right now. He said he planned to kill the girl and you’re the only girl here, far as I know.”
“Just a minute, Opal,” Michael said, his expression worried.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Opal told Danny, ignoring Michael. “Not with you. I suggest we go back and talk this over with Father and the others, and they can listen to what you have to say and decide what we should do.”
“There’s no time!”
“And please don’t try to tell me I’m in any danger here. The Project has one of the tightest security ratings of any MI6 operation in the whole of Britain.”
“So tight I managed to break in and Fran got her throat ripped out? Do me a favor, Opal. Get your head out of your backside and introduce it to the real world.”
“I think we should listen to him,” Michael said.
This time Opal didn’t ignore him. “You think we should go with him?” she asked. “And not even take time to tell my father?”
“Yes, I do,” said Michael firmly. “You can phone your father after we get out, but that is exactly what I believe we should do.”
