Watson, Ian - Novel 10 by Deathhunter (v1.1) Page B

moth, though there was nothing flimsy about it! It had big crystal eyes.
It was red — with a kind of redness, anyway. Maybe it was infrared.”
                 “So
now you can see in the infrared?” asked Alice Huron sarcastically. “Maybe that
explains why those cameras saw nothing!”
                 This
was true. When the videotapes were played back they had merely showed
Weinberger jerking upright when he was injected, then scrabbling at the empty
air for a minute or so — all on his own. Admittedly the record was confused by
all the multiple images of Weinberger in the mirrors, but certainly no other
creature was visible.
                 “It
didn’t register,” agreed Jim. “Yes, it’s exactly as though the tapes couldn’t
record light of the wavelength I saw. It’s as though it came from a different
spectrum entirely! But I swear that my eyes saw it.”
                 “You hallucinated ,” said Resnick , still arcing about. “You hypnotised yourself by
staring through that periscope into all those mirrors. Your attention drifted.
You were almost in a state of sensory deprivation — and you know where those
can lead! What was his name, eh? Mike Mullen, hmm? Your
friend. According to your dossier —”
                 “Thank
you for acquainting everybody with my dossier!”
                 “Necessary information, Jim! In case you don’t realize it,
we’re in trouble. First the murder, now this. If this fantasy gets out. . .! But it won’t, will it, Jim?”
                 “If
you put Weinberger on public exhibition, it may.”
                 “And
we must do that — though I do take grave exception to the word ‘exhibition’. Do
you think you have us in a cleft stick, then?” Resnick danced from side to side
as though to dislodge himself. “Let me remind you that in certain extreme
circumstances a guide can be required to retire prematurely. If you follow me . . .”
                 “Oh,
I do.” Jim looked from Resnick’s face to those of his accomplices of the stormy
night at the chalet. His minions . . . Mary-Ann smiled automatically at the
mention of retirement.
                 “All
right, so Weinberger didn’t Find peace in his
‘machine’,” said Jim angrily. “But damn it, he’s begun to purge his hostile
feelings about death. That’s what happened — don’t you see? They’re something
he can seize hold of now. That’s a darn good start.”
                 “And
what about your own hostile feelings about death?” asked Alice . “Since you’re so
positive that you saw the thing too!”
                 “Hostile —? What bloody nonsense! Just give me time with the
man! Anyway, it isn’t your job to
decide.”
                 Though who really did pull whose strings around this House?
                 “Maybe
I developed a sort of quasi-telepathic linkage with Nathan,” he admitted. “As a true guide should.”
                 “With
you in a state of sensory deprivation, that’s understandable,” said Resnick , in a more mellow tone. “You hallucinated, freely
and grandiosely, when Weinberger sat up and began his phantom battle. You
filled in the empty space in his hands. You gave it unreal life. So did
Weinberger. He was torn out of deep trance by those stimulants. The blood was
pounding through his heart valves, and probably through his eyeballs too. He
saw that blood personalised .”
                 ‘I
couldn’t have hypnotised myself,’ thought Jim. ‘I knew the risk. I looked away
from time to time.’
                 “I
do wonder,” said Alice , “why Jim should have filled in the empty space with that in particular. That bat or fighting
cock or whatever it was.”
                 Or
whatever: bat, rooster, moth — none of these, really. Or all
of them. An alien composite, a