‘Yes.’
‘Well, I kept wondering, why did he need to immobilise his guide? What I think happened was this,’ Selexin said. ‘On his home planet, Bellos steps inside the official teleporter with his guide. Once inside, the guide receives the co-ordinates of the labyrinth on the wristband, which he hasn’t given to Bellos yet. Bellos then attacks the guide, beats him, steals the co-ordinates, and then reopens the teleporter and relays the co-ordinates to someone else.
‘Then he and his guide are teleported to the labyrinth alone, while at the same time, at another teleporter nearby, the hoods are sent.
‘Much later, they teleport this teleporter, but they only have co-ordinates that are rather general. The teleporter could have arrived anywhere inside the library. It was impossible for them to teleport it intentionally into a dark corner. But then, when you’re teleporting something into a maze, the odds are in your favour of teleporting it into a dark corner. A calculated risk, no doubt, but obviously one that Bellos was prepared to take.’
Status Check: 0:00:30 to De-electrification.
Next to Swain, Holly was staring up at the big grey machine. ‘So what do we do now, Daddy?’
Swain frowned, looked back down the dark aisle behind him. In the distance he saw that some shelves were now on fire.
‘We send Selexin home, honey,’ he said. ‘So he can tell the others what really happened, and so he can get away from here.’
‘Oh,’ Holly said, disappointed.
‘That is right,’ Selexin nodded slowly.
‘Can’t he stay, Daddy?’ Holly said. ‘He could live with us. Like in E.T.’
Selexin smiled sadly and reached up for the handle to the glass door of the teleporter. He said to Swain, ‘When I came to the labyrinth, I thought about myself being assigned to guide the human contestant through the Presidian. And I was not happy at all. I thought you would not last a moment, and if you did not, I would not either. But having seen you, and the way you defended your life and the life of your daughter, I know now just how mistaken I was.’
Swain nodded.
Selexin turned to Holly. ‘I cannot stay here. Your world is not ready for me, just as I am not ready for it. Why, even the Presidian was not ready for your world.’
‘Thank you,’ Holly said, crying. ‘Thank you for taking care of me.’
Then she leapt forward and threw her arms around Selexin and hugged him tightly. Selexin was momentarily taken aback, unprepared for this sudden display of affection. Slowly, he raised his arms and hugged Holly back.
‘Take care of yourself,’ he said, closing his eyes. ‘And look after your father, the same way he looks after you. Goodbye, Holly.’
She released him and Selexin turned to Swain and extended his hand.
‘You are a little too tall for me to hug,’ Selexin said, smiling.
Status Check: 0:00:15 to De-electrification.
Swain took the little man’s hand and shook it. ‘Thank you, again,’ he said seriously.
Selexin bowed. ‘I did nothing that you yourself would not have done for her. Or for me. I was only there in your absence. And besides, thank you, for making me change my mind about you.’
He reached for the door to the teleporter. It opened with a soft, pneumatic hiss.
Swain put an arm on Holly’s shoulder. ‘Goodbye, Selexin,’ he said. ‘You’ll be a hard memory to forget.’
‘That is just as well, Mr Swain. Considering you have forgotten just about everything else I have told you tonight.’
Swain smiled sadly as Selexin stepped inside the teleporter.
‘Don’t forget to teleport this thing back once you get there,’ he said, pointing at the teleporter.
‘Do not worry. I will not,’ Selexin said, closing the glass door behind him.
Swain stepped away from the teleporter and looked down at his wristband.
STATUS CHECK: 0:00:04 TO DE-ELECTRIFICATION.
‘Oh, damn . . .’ Swain said, realising. ‘Oh, damn!’
Inside the teleporter, Selexin punched some buttons on the wall and then stepped up to the glass door.
A brilliant white light glowed to life behind him and the little man pressed his finger up against the glass.
‘Goodbye,’ he mouthed silently.
The dazzling white light inside the teleporter consumed Selexin and then, abruptly, there was a bright, instantaneous flash, and the inside of the teleporter was dark again.
And Selexin was gone.
Holly was wiping tears from her eyes as Swain looked at the wristband again.
STATUS CHECK: 0:00:01 TO DE-ELECTRIFICATION.
STANDBY.
DE-ELECTRIFICATION INITIALISED—
Swain grabbed Holly by the hand and immediately began to run desperately down the narrow aisle, toward the central stairwell. Holly didn’t know what was happening, just ran with him anyway.
A loud beeping filled the air.
Swain knew exactly what was going on now—it was what Selexin had been trying to tell him before. He didn’t even need to look at his wristband to confirm it.
The damn thing was beeping insistently again and as he heard it ringing in his ears, he realised what aborting the Presidian really meant.
The electrified field was down.
His wristband was no longer surrounded by the field.
It had reset itself to self-destruct.
And nothing could stop it. There was no other electric field on Earth to surround it with.
Swain looked down at the wristband as he hit the stairs on the fly. It read:
PRESIDIAN ABORTED.
DETONATION SEQUENCE INITIALISED.
* 14:54 *
AND COUNTING.
Jesus.
SIXTH MOVEMENT
30 November, 10:47 p.m.
Outside the library, Marshall was barking orders.
‘Move! Move! Move! Get in there!’ he yelled, oblivious to the falling rain all around him.
Moments earlier, the grid of crackling blue electricity had vanished to nothing and Marshall had been faced with a gaping hole in the metal grille of the parking lot. Now he had Sigma’s SWAT team racing past him, charging into the car park.
‘Higgs!’ he called.
‘Yes, sir!’
‘I want a total media blackout on this matter from now on. You go straight to Levine and you tell him to call the networks and pull some strings. Get those cameras out of here. And get me a No-Fly Zone over this whole area. I don’t want any choppers within a five-mile radius of this building. Now go!’
Higgs ran off , up the ramp.
Marshall put his hands on his hips and smiled in the rain.
They were in.
Swain and Holly climbed the stairs two at a time, rounding the banisters, hauling themselves up, breathing hard.
They stopped at the Ground Floor. Swain peered out through the fire door.
The Ground Floor lay before him—wide and dark and bare.
Empty.
Swain could just make out the First Floor mezzanine above. It was still dark there, too. No fires here. Not yet.
There was no-one here.
Wristband.
14:23
14:22
14:21
There was a light over by the Information Desk. Swain stepped cautiously out among the bookshelves, heading toward it. Holly followed nervously.
When he was ten yards away from the Information Desk, he said to her, ‘Stay here.’
Swain edged closer to the desk. He peered over the desktop and suddenly turned away, wincing.
‘What is it?’ Holly whispered.
‘Nothing,’ he said, then added quickly, ‘Don’t come over here.’
He glanced over the desktop again and saw the grisly sight again. It was the bloodied and mangled body of a policewoman.
Hawkins’ partner.
She had literally been torn limb from limb—her arms were simply gone, each one ending at the bicep as a ragged bony stump. Her unif
orm was covered in blood. Swain could just make out the long jagged tear in her shirt where Bellos had ripped off her badge.
And then he saw her Glock pistol on the floor—lying inches away from her desperately outstretched hand.
Swain had a thought: maybe he could shoot his wristband off.
No, the bullet would pass through his wrist. Not a good idea.
He bent down and picked up the policewoman’s gun anyway. Protection.
And then, completely without warning, there came a sudden, crashing whump! from somewhere behind him.
Holly screamed and Swain snapped around instantly and saw—
—the Karanadon, crouched on one knee, slowly rising to its full height.
Right behind Holly!
It must have been up on the First Floor! It must have leapt down!
Without even thinking, Swain levelled his new-found Glock at the beast and fired twice. Both shots missed by three yards. Hell, he’d never even fired a gun before.
Holly screamed through the gunfire, ran over to Swain.
Boom.
The Karanadon stepped forward.
Swain raised the pistol again. Fired. Missed. Two yards off this time. Getting closer.
Boom. Boom.
‘Run!’ Holly squealed. ‘Run!’
‘Not yet! I can hit it!’ Swain called back, raising his voice above the beast’s thunderous footsteps.
The Karanadon began to charge.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
‘Okay, run!’ he yelled.
Swain and Holly dashed for the bookshelves. The Karanadon was gaining. They rounded a corner and entered a narrow aisle, bookshelves on either side. Running hard, Swain looked over his shoulder.
And then, suddenly, his feet hit something—and he tripped—and went sprawling head-first to the ground. He hit the floor hard and the Glock went skittling off down the slick marble aisle.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The floor all around him was shaking violently and Swain rolled onto his back to see what had tripped him.
It was a carcass. The ripped and torn carcass of the Konda—the grasshopper-like alien that the hoods had killed before, while Swain and the others had watched from the First Floor balcony.
Boom.
The floor rumbled a final time.
Silence. Save for the beeping of Swain’s wristband.
Swain looked up and saw Holly standing on the other side of the carcass.
And behind her—right behind her—towering above the little girl, its massive frame silhouetting her body with total blackness, stood the dark shape of the Karanadon.
Holly didn’t move a muscle.
The Karanadon was so close she could feel its hot breath on her neck.
‘Don’t move,’ Swain whispered fiercely. ‘Whatever you do, don’t move.’
Holly didn’t answer. She could feel her knees shaking. She knew that she wasn’t going to move. Even if she’d wanted to she couldn’t Beads of sweat began to appear on her forehead as she felt the Karanadon move slowly closer.
Its breath came in short, rapid spurts, as if it were breathing very, very quickly. As if it were—
Sniffing. It was sniffing her. Smelling her.
Slowly, the big beast’s snout moved up her body.
Holly was terrified. She wanted to scream. She clenched her fists by her side and shut her eyes.
Suddenly, she felt a cold wetness touch her left ear. It was the Karanadon’s nose, the tip of its dark, wrinkled snout. The nose was cold and wet, like a dog’s.
She almost fainted.
Swain watched in horror as the Karanadon brushed the left side of his daughter’s head.
It was taking its time. Moving slowly. Methodically. Intensifying their fear.
It had them.
Swain could hear the constant beeping of his wristband. How long to go? He didn’t dare look—didn’t dare take his eyes off the Karanadon. Shit.
He shifted his weight—and, oddly, felt a bulge in his pocket. It was the broken phone receiver. That wouldn’t be much use here. Wait a second . . .
There was something else in his pocket . . .
The lighter.
Slowly, Swain reached into his pocket and pulled out Jim Wilson’s Zippo lighter.
The Karanadon was sniffing Holly’s ankles.
Holly just stood stock still, her eyes shut, her fists clenched.
Swain rolled the lighter over in his hand. If he could light something with it, the flames might momentarily distract the Karanadon.
But then, he recalled, the lighter hadn’t worked in the stairwell before.
It had to work now.
Swain held the lighter up to the nearest bookshelf, up close to a dusty old hardcover.
Please work. Just once. Please work.
The Zippo flipped open with a loud metallic calink!
The Karanadon’s head snapped up immediately and suddenly the beast was staring accusingly at Swain as if to say: ‘And what do you think you’re doing?’
Swain held the lighter closer to the dusty book but the Karanadon bounded quickly forward and in an instant Swain found himself slammed against the floor, face-down, the weight of an enormous black foot pressed hard against his back.
Holly screamed.
Swain was pushed down against the floor, his hands spread out in front of him, his face tilted sideways, one cheek flat against the cold marble floor. He struggled in vain against the weight of the Karanadon.
The beast roared loudly and Swain looked up to see that he was still holding the lighter in his left hand. On his left wrist, he saw his wristband, beeping insistently. In a distant comer of his mind, he wondered how long they had before it exploded.
The Karanadon saw the lighter.
And Swain watched in horror as an enormous black claw slowly descended upon—and clasped around—his entire left forearm. It gripped his arm tightly. Squeezing it. Cutting off the bloodflow. Swain saw his veins pop up everywhere. His arm was about to snap in two—
And then the big creature banged his wrist hard against the floor.
Hard against the floor.
Swain roared in agony as his wrist hit the marble floor. There was a loud clunking sound, followed by a sharp burning pain that shot right through his forearm.
With the impact, his hand holding the lighter reflexively opened wide and the Zippo dropped to the floor.
Swain never noticed it.
And he had instantly forgotten about the burning pain in his forearm.
Now he was staring. Staring at his left wrist in total disbelief.
The wristband had hit the floor, too.
And the force of the impact had unclasped it. Now it just rested loosely around Swain’s wrist, still beeping incessantly.
Only now it was unclasped.
Now it was off.
Swain saw the countdown.
12:20
12:19
12:18
And then suddenly he felt a claw clutch the back of his head and push it roughly against the floor. The weight on his back increased.
Time for the kill.
Swain saw the Zippo. On the floor. Within reach.
The Karanadon lowered its head.
Swain quickly grabbed the lighter and held it to the lowest shelf of the bookcase and then he shut his eyes and prayed to God that once, just once, Jim Wilson’s stupid frigging lighter would work.
He flicked the cartwheel.
The lighter ignited for half a second, and that was all Swain needed.
A dust-covered book next to the Zippo burst instantly into flames, right in front of the Karanadon.
The big beast roared as the fire flared in front of its head, the bristled fur on its forehead catching alight. It pulled back instantly, releasing Swain, clutching desperately at its flaming brow.
Swain rolled immediately and in one swift movement, removed the wristband from his wrist, reached for the Karanadon’s foot and clasped the band around one of the beast’
s enormous toe-claws.
The wristband clicked into place around the toe.
Clasped.
And then Swain was up. On his feet, running. He scooped up Holly, grabbed the Glock from the floor nearby and raced for the massive glass doors of the library’s entrance. Behind him he could hear the wails and roars of the Karanadon.
He came to the doors, threw them open.
And saw about a dozen cars with revolving lights on their roofs parked out front. And men with rifles. Running toward him through the rain.
The National Security Agency.
‘It’s the police, Daddy. They’re here to save us!’
Swain grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the doors, toward the stairwell.
‘I don’t think those policemen are here to help us, honey,’ Swain said as they ran. ‘Remember what happened to Eliot’s house in E.T.? Remember how the bad guys put a big plastic bag around it?’
They were running hard. Almost at the stairwell now.
‘Yeah.’
Swain said, ‘Well, the people who did that are the same people who are outside the library now.’
‘Oh.’
They came to the stairwell and started down the stairs.
Swain stopped.
He could hear voices . . . and shouts . . . and heavy footfalls coming from downstairs.
The NSA were already inside.
They must have come in through the parking lot.
‘Quickly. Upstairs. Now.’ Swain pulled Holly back up the stairwell.
They climbed the stairs.
And as they ran past the fire door leading to the Ground Floor, they heard the loud smashing sound of breaking glass, followed by more voices and shouts.
Swain shut the door behind him.
They were inside the photocopying room on the First Floor.
‘Quickly,’ he said to Holly, guiding her toward the Internet room, ‘through there.’
They entered the Internet Facility of the New York State Library and Swain walked directly over to one of the windows on the far side.
It opened easily and he leaned out.
They were on the western side of the building. Beneath him, Swain could see the grassy park that surrounded the library. It was a fifteen-foot drop from the window to the grass down below.
He spun around and looked up at the wires hanging down from the ceiling.