Part 28 (1/2)

He opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut again. She was still busy with the fire. He concentrated: Can you hear this?

Yes.

But how?

We were not in you before.

In me! McNeely thought in panic.

Do not worry.

What's happening to me? What are you doing?

Just then Gabrielle set down the poker and rejoined him, putting an arm around his waist. He smiled crookedly and she lifted an eyebrow. ”Anything wrong?”

”Uh . . . the soup? Stomach's a little funny.”

”Oh, thanks a lot. You'd better get used to my cooking.”

He heard himself chuckle. ”Firing your cooks?”

”I always used to cook. I like to.”

”Ah.” He nodded, drawing her head down so that it rested on his shoulder and she could not see his face. He tried to keep his mind clear until he felt certain she would not continue the conversation. Then he thought: Why are you in me?

We must be in you when we leave.

Are we leaving then?

Soon. We are coming into you slowly, little by little.

Why not all at once? When we leave?

We entered c.u.mmings all at once. It was too fast.

Why didn't you enter me before?

For a moment there was no response. It had to be of your own free will. Otherwise we could not leave with you.

What if I change my mind when I leave?

We will already be in you. And we will punish you if you do such a thing. And her. A soft breath hissed dreamily in McNeely's mind. She is so warm. Soft.

McNeely almost withdrew his arm from around her. Will you be coming into me from now on? From now until we leave?

Coming into you. It is a suggestive phrase. Coming into you, slowly. Little by little. There was a time when you'd have liked that.

You go to h.e.l.l!

We are h.e.l.l.

There was no more. McNeely thought consciously, but his thoughts brought no response. And he was afraid to think, afraid to plan against them, for now they were in his own headquarters, spies behind every panel, listening to ... what? How deeply could they probe? Could he mix his thoughts as he had done before? Confuse the inner listeners by scrambling the message? And even if he could, could he then uncode it enough for it to make sense to his own waking self?

He felt like a blind madman in a maze with no exit. And the woman he embraced wondered at the unexpected stiffening of the arms that held her, almost as if the man were afraid to move, to breathe, even to think.

Chapter Twenty-two.

By the third ring Simon Renault started to wonder. By the fourth he began to worry. By the sixth small droplets of perspiration dappled his florid complexion. He let it ring five more times before he hung up.

Stop worrying, he told himself. Don't be an old woman. There's certainly a logical reason. Both outside perhaps.

But his specific orders had been to have a man in the cabin at all times. He was not sure of Monckton, but he knew Sterne would never disobey his orders. Unless ...

Unless something more important countermanded them.

The alarm.

He dialed the number again. This time he let it ring only six times before slamming down the receiver. He sat for a minute trying to think, then picked up the receiver and jabbed a b.u.t.ton on his console.

”Yessir?” Harrison's voice, thin and reedy, responded.

”Something's wrong at The Pines,” he barked. ”There's no answer on the phone.”

”Yessir?”

”Can you hear me?”

”Y-yes. Yes sir.”

”Good G.o.d! Just shut up then! Call the police at Wilmer. Tell them to get a car up to the cabin right away. And get a Learjet ready for takeoff. I want to leave as quickly as possible.”

”Yessir.''

Renault slammed down the phone. ”Good G.o.d ...” He threw a few things in the overnight bag he kept at the ready, cursing the luck that made him rush. It was the twenty-eighth of October, and he'd hoped to fly up on the thirtieth, spend the night in Wilmer, and drive to The Pines the following day to be there when the house opened; he'd been calling the cabin to let Sterne know of his arrival. And now this. Scenarios ran through his mind. Fire? Madness? Murder? He hadn't believed anything would happen, but now he was horribly unsure.

He closed his bag, snapped the latches. Then he grabbed the phone again. ”Harrison? The plane?”

”The plane will leave in a half hour, Mr. Renault.” The voice shook. ”Can you be on the heliport roof in five minutes?”

”Of course I can! What about the police?”

”I was just about to call them when you-”