It doesnt really matter, of course, said McCready. We were expecting it, anyway.
McCready shook his head irritably. By God! he said. Theres someone around here cleverer than I am.
Id better not comment on that, said Diana tartly, You might get annoyed.
It doesnt really matter, of course, said McCready. We were expecting it, anyway.
But we were expecting to use it to find out who the opposition is. She tapped him on the chest. You know what this means. There are three separate groups after us. She ticked them off on her fingers. The Americans; another crowd who is vaguely Slav Russians, Poles, Bulgarians, Yugoslavs, take your pick and now someone mysterious whom we havent even seen.
Its what Carey was expecting, isnt it?
Yes, but its worrying all the same. Lets see how Denison is.
They went back to the rock where Lyn was saying worriedly, It is just concussion, isnt it?
Im not too sure, said Harding. Lyn, youll find a black box in my pack about half-way down. Bring it, will you?
Lyn ran off and McCready went down on his knees by Denison. Whats wrong with him apart from a crack on the head?
His pulse is way down, and Id like to take his blood pressure, said Harding. But theres something else. Look at this. He took Denisons arm by the wrist and lifted it up. When he let go the arm stayed there. He took the arm and bent it at the elbow, and again it stayed in the position into which he had put it.
McCready drew in his breath sharply. You can mould the man like modelling clay, he said in wonder. What is it?
A form of catalepsy, said Harding.
That did not mean much to McCready. Does it usually accompany concussion?
Not at all. Its the first time Ive seen it induced by a knock on the head. This is most unusual.
Lyn came back and held out the box to Harding. Is this what you wanted?
He nodded briefly, took out an elastic bandage of a sphygmometer and bound it around Denisons arm. He pumped the rubber bulb, and said, His blood pressure is down, too. He unwrapped the bandage. Well carry him back and put him into a sleeping bag to keep him warm.
That means we dont move from here, said McCready.
We cant move him, said Harding. Not until I can find out whats wrong with him, and that, Im afraid, is mixed up with whats been done to him.
A bleak expression came over McCreadys face. If they stayed at the camp theyd be sitting ducks for the next crowd of international yobbos.
Lyn said, Is he conscious or unconscious, Doctor?
Oh, hes unconscious, said Harding. Blanked out completely.
Harding was wrong.
Denison could hear every word but could not do a thing about it. When he tried to move he found that nothing happened, that he could not move a muscle. It was as though something had chopped all control from the brain. He had felt Harding moving his limbs and had tried to do something about it but he had no control whatever.
What he did have was a splitting headache.
He felt himself being lifted and carried and then put into a sleeping bag. After a few minutes he was lapped around in warmth. Someone had tucked the hood of the bag around his head so that sounds were muffled and he could not hear what was said very clearly. He wished they had not done that. He tried to speak, willing his tongue to move, but it lay flaccid in his mouth. He could not even move his vocal cords to make the slightest sound.
He heard a smatter of conversation... still breathing... automatic functions unimpaired... side... tongue out... choking... That would be Harding.
Someone rolled him on to his side and he felt fingers inserted into his mouth and his tongue pulled forward.
After a little while he slept.
And dreamed.
In his dream he was standing on a hillside peering through the eyepiece of a theodolite. Gradually he became aware that the instrument was not a theodolite at all it was a cine camera. He even knew the name of it it was an Arriflex. And the small speck of blue lake in the distance became one of the blue eyes of a pretty girl.
He pulled back from the view finder of the camera and turned to Joe Staunton, the cameraman. Nice composition, he said. We can shoot on that one.
Great slabs of memory came slamming back into place with the clangour of iron doors.
Its no good, Giles, said Fortescue. Its becoming just that bit too much. Youre costing us too much money. How the hell can you keep control when youre pissed half the time? His contempt came over like a physical blow. Even when youre not drunk youre hung over. Fortescues voice boomed hollowly as though he was speaking in a cavern. You cant rely on the Old Pals Act any more. This is the end. Youre out.
Even in his dream Denison was aware of the wetness of tears on his cheeks.
He was driving a car, the familiar, long-since-smashed Lotus. Beth was beside him, her hair streaming in the wind.
Faster! she said. Faster! His hand fell on the gear lever and he changed down to overtake a lorry, his foot going down on the accelerator.
The scooter shot, insect-like, from the side road right across his path. He swerved, and so did the lorry he was overtaking. Beth screamed and there was a rending, jangle of tearing metal and breaking glass and then nothing.
Sorry about that, said Staunton. This would have been a good one, but Fortescue wont have it. What will you do now?
Go home to Hampstead and get drunk, said Denison.
Hampstead! An empty flat with no personality. Bare walls with little furniture and many empty whisky bottles.
And then...!
In his dream Denison screamed.
He stirred when he woke up and opened his eyes to find Lyn looking at him. He moistured his lips, and said Beth?
Her eyes widened and she turned her head. Dr Harding! Dr Harding hes... hes awake. There was a break in her voice. When she turned back to him he was trying to get up. No, she said. Lie quietly. She pushed him back.
Im all right, he said weakly.
Harding appeared. All right, Lyn; let me see him. He bent over Denison. How are you feeling?
Not too bad, said Denison. Hell of a headache, though. He put up his hand and tenderly felt the back of his head. What happened?
Somebody hit you.
Denison fumbled with his other hand inside the sleeping bag, groping for his shirt pocket. They got the plan.
It doesnt matter, said Lyn. Giles, it doesnt matter.
I know. He levered himself up on one elbow and accepted the pills Harding gave him and washed them down with water. I think I gave you a shock, Doctor.
You were aware? asked Harding in surprise.
Yes. Another thing Ive got my memory back.
All of it?
Denison frowned. How would I know? Im not sure.
We wont go into that now, said Harding quickly. How do you feel physically?
If you let me stand up Ill tell you. He got out of the sleeping bag and stood up, supported on Hardings arm. He swayed for a moment and then shook himself free and took three steps. I seem all right, he said. Except for the headache.
The pills ought to clear that up, said Harding. But if I were you I wouldnt be too energetic.
Youre not me, said Denison flatly. What time is it? And where are the others?
Its just after midday, said Lyn. And theyre scouting to see if anyone else is around. I think the doctor is right; you ought to take it easy.
Denison walked to the edge of the bluff, thinking of the perturbation in McCreadys voice when he discovered that, because of the attack on himself, the party was pinned down. I ought to be able to cross the river, he said. That might be enough.
Thirty
Armstrong was digging another hole. He had filled in the first one and left Carey to replace the turf. Carey did his best but still the lawn in that place was bumpy and uneven and, in the circumstances, he did not feel like stamping it down too hard. He looked towards Armstrong who appeared to be systematically wrecking a flower bed. Found anything?
Not yet. Armstrong pushed again with the spade, and then stooped quickly. Wait! I think theres some before he finished the sentence Carey was by his side thing here.
Let me see. Carey put his hand down the hole and felt a flat surface. Flakes of something came away on his fingers and when he brought up his hand his fingerprints were brown. Rust! he said. This is it. Careful with that spade.
He looked back at the house and thought it was fortunate that Mrs K. had gone shopping and taken her son with her. A bit of good for a lot of bad. Earlier in the afternoon she had been out in the garden hanging out the weekly wash to dry, and then she had come over and chatted interminably about the iniquities of the planning authorities, the ridiculous prices in the shops and other matters dear to the housewifely heart. A lot of time had been wasted.
He said, If the trunk is corroded we might be able to rip open the top and take out the papers without making the hole any bigger.
I forgot my tin opener, said Armstrong. But this might do. He put his hand to the side of his leg and from the long pocket of the overalls designed to take a foot rule he extracted a sheathed knife. Bought it in Helsinki; thought it might come in handy.
Carey grunted as he saw the design. He took the knife from the sheath and examined the broad blade and the simple wooden handle. The Yanks think Jim Bowie invented these, he said. Dont ever try to tackle a Finn with one; theyre better at it than you. And probably the Russians, too, in these parts. Itll do quite nicely.
He cleared earth from the top of the trunk until about a square foot of rusty metal was showing, then he stabbed at it with the sharp point of the knife. The metal was rotten and the knife punched through with ridiculous ease. He enlarged the hole and bent up the metal into a tongue which he could hold in his fingers. He gripped it and pulled and there was a tearing sound.
Within five minutes he had made a hole in the trunk big enough to take his hand, and he groped inside and touched a hard square edge. His fingers curled around what felt like a book but when he tried to pull it out he found he was in the position of the monkey gripping the nut inside the bottle. The book was too big to come through the hole so he dropped it and concentrated on making the hole bigger.
At last he was able to get the book out. It was a school exercise book with hard covers and, when he flicked the pages, he saw mathematical symbols and lengthy equations in profusion. Jackpot! he said exultantly.