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I didn't anticipate young YB's foxiness。〃 9mm automatics might not stop him …or any of the others in that house。 But there's a description in the Harry Keogh file of something that will …I think。 Get the squad armed with crossbows！
〃Just as you say； Alec； I'll look into it at once；〃 said Grieve； no sign of surprise in his voice。 〃And how are things with you？〃
〃Oh； not bad。 We're thinking of moving up into the mountains…tonight； actually。〃 We're off to Romania with Krakovitch。 He's OK…I hope！ As soon as I've got anything definite I'll get back to you。 Then maybe you'll be able to move in on Bodescu。 But not until we know all there is to know about what we're up against。
〃Lucky you！〃 said Grieve。 〃The mountains； eh？ Beautiful at this time of year。 Ah； well； some of us must work。 Do drop me a card； now； won't you？ And do take care。〃
〃Same goes for you；〃 Kyle spoke light and easy； but his thoughts were sharp with concern。 For God's sake make sure those lads down in Devon are on the ball！ If anything were to happen； I …〃…Oh； we'll do our best to keep out of trouble；〃 Grieve cut him off。 It was his way of saying； 〃Look； we can only do as much as we can do。〃
〃OK； I'll be in touch。〃 Good luck。 And then he had broken the connection For a long time he'd stood in his room looking at the telephone and chewing his lip。 Things were warming up and Alec Kyle knew it。 And when Quint came in from the room next door where he'd been taking a nap 。
one look at his face told Kyle that he was right。 Quint looked rough round the edges； suddenly more than a little haggard。
He tapped his temple。 〃Things are starting to jump；〃 he said。 〃In here。〃
Kyle nodded。 〃I know；〃 he answered。 〃I've a feeling they're starting to jump all over the place。 。
In his tiny room in what had once been Harry Keogh's Hartlepool flat； whose window looked out over a graveyard； Harry Junior was falling asleep。 His mother； Brenda Keogh； shushed the baby and lulled him with soft humming sounds。 He was only five weeks old； but he was clever。 There were lots of things happening in the world； and he wanted in on them。 He was going to make very hard work of growing up； because he wanted to be there now。 She could feel it in him： his mind was like a sponge； soaking up new sensations； new impressions； thirsting to know； gazing out of his father's eyes and striving to envelop the whole wide world。
Oh； yes； this could only be Harry Keogh's baby； and Brenda was glad she'd had him。 If only she could still have Harry； too。 But in a way she did have him； right here in little Harry。 In fact she had him in a bigger way than she might ever have suspected。
Just what the baby's father's work had been with British Intelligence （she assumed it was them） Brenda didn't know。 She only knew that he had paid for it with his life。 There had been no recognition of his sacrifice； not officially； anyway。 But cheques arrived every month in plain envelopes； with brief little covering notes that specified the money as 〃widow's benefit〃。 Brenda never failed to be surprised： they must have thought very highly of Harry。 The cheques were rather large； twice as much as she could ever have earned in any mundane sort of work。 And that was wonderful； for she could give all of her time to Harry。
〃Poor little Harry；〃 she crooned at him in her soft northern dialect； an old； old ditty she'd learned from her own mother； who'd probably learned it from hers。 〃Got no Mammy； got no Daddy； born in a coal hole。〃
Well； not quite as bad as all that； but bad enough； without Harry。 And yet…。…occasionally Brenda felt pangs of guilt。 It was less than nine months since she'd last seen him； and already she was over it。 It all seemed so wrong； somehow。 Wrong that she no longer cried； wrong that she never had cried a great deal； entirely wrong that he had gone to join that great majority who so loved him。 The dead； long fallen into decay and dissolution。
Not necessarily morally wrong； but wrong conceptually； definitely。 She didn't feel that he was dead。 Perhaps if she'd seen his body it would be different。 But she was glad that she hadn't seen it。 Dead； it wouldn't have been Harry at all。
Enough of morbid thinking！ She touched the baby's tiny button nose with the knuckle of her index finger。
〃Bonk！〃 she said； but very； very softly。 For little Harry Keogh was asleep
Harry felt the infant's whirlpool suction ebb； felt the tiny mind relax its constraint； aimed himself into and through a trans…dimensional 〃door〃 and found himself adrift once more in the Ultimate Darkness of the M？bius continuum。 Pure mind； he floated in the flux of the metaphysical； free of the distortions of mass and gravity； heat and cold。 He revelled like a swimmer in that great black ocean which stretched from never to forever and nowhere to everywhere； where he could move into the past no less rapidly than into the future。
Harry could go any and everywhere…and everywhen …from here。 It was simply a matter of knowing the right direction； of using the right 〃door〃。 He opened a time…door and saw the blue light of all Earth's living billions streaming into unimagined； ever…expanding futures。 No； not that one。 Harry selected another door。 This time the myriad blue life…threads streamed away from him and contracted； narrowing down to a far…distant； dazzling； single blue point。 It was the door to time past； to the very beginning of human life on Earth。 And that wasn't what he wanted either。 Actually； he had known that neither of these doors was the right one； he was simply exercising his talents； his powers； that was all。
For the fact was that if he didn't have a mission。。。 but he did have one。 It was almost identical with the mission which had cost him his corporeal life； and it was still unfinished。 Harry put all other thoughts and considerations aside； used his unerring intuition to point himself in the right direction； calling out to that one he knew he would find there。
〃Thibor？〃 His call raced out into the black void。 〃Only answer me and I'll find you； and we can…talk。〃
A moment passed。 A second or a million years； it was all the same in the M？bius continuum。 And it made no difference at all to the dead。 Then：
Ahhhh！ came back the answer。 Is it you； Haarrry？
The mental voice of the old Thing in the ground was his beacon： he homed in on it； came up against a Mobius door； and passed through it。
It was midnight on the cruciform hills； and for two hundred miles in every direction； most of Romania lay asleep。 No requirement for Harry and his infant simulacrum to materialise here； for there was no one to see them。 But knowing that he could be seen there； if there were eyes to see； gave Harry a feeling of corporeality。 Even as a will…o'…the…wisp he would feel that he was somebody； not merely a telepathic voice； a ghost。 He hovered in the glade of stirless trees； above the tumbled slabs and close to the tottering entrance of what had been Thibor Ferenczy's tomb； and formed about his focus the merest nimbus of light。 Then he turned his mind outwards； to the night and the darkness。
If he had had a body； Harry might have shivered a little。 He would have felt a chill； but a purely physical chill and not