The Final Nexus – Chapter fifteen

The Final Nexus – Chapter Fifteen

Author's note: I'd like to apologise for the posting problem last week. In fact I had sent Chapter 13 in a week previously but it had not arrived – this is clearly a problem with the new mail address, which works perfectly inbound but appears to be less dependable outbound: a large number of people wrote to point out that the chapter was missing, and I replied to everyone, only to receive (several days later) about ten “undelivered” messages. So I would also like to apologise if you wrote to me but didn't get a reply. I did try, I promise you.

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“Sorry,” said Dec, once the door had closed on us again. “Now what?”

The four of us didn’t quite have a common language: three of us spoke English, three of us spoke Horde Common, and three of us spoke Arvelan. Arvelan would have been best, because at least Sam had learned a little by now, but I thought it entirely possible that there was a listening device in here somewhere, and obviously we didn’t want Aarnist to hear anything we said – at least, not in any language he could understand. So we switched about between English and Common, providing a translation for Dec or Stefan as required.

“Can we go back to the original plan?” I suggested. “Once we’re gone, you and Sam can get the portal reopened – I’m fairly sure all the Konjässiem will be coming with us to help deal with the Greys – then you can get the general to set up a radio on the Kerpian side of his portal and try to get a warning to Mr Narj. Make sure you warn them to wear helmets when we get there.”

“Obviously. But I really don’t think this is going to work. Isn’t there anything else we could do?”

“Probably not. I was thinking that we could let Mr Narj know what is happening when we get to the Hub, but I can already see how things are going to be when we get there: Irfan will have Stefan under full control, and if I do or say the wrong thing, he’ll kill him. But maybe on the way back from the Grey world he’ll be more relaxed and, if we’re lucky, more careless. Or maybe he’ll actually keep his word and let us go.”

“I wouldn’t rely too much on that,” said Stefan. “I don’t trust him, or Aarnist, either.”

“Nor do I,” I admitted. “Maybe I trust Aarnist a little more than I did before, but not enough to just sit back and do nothing. Anyway, we can come back to that: right now I want to know how he came to get his hands on you in the first place. I thought you were safely out of reach.”

“Well, I was for a while, but then I came back.”

“What do you mean, back?”

“Okay, I’ll start at the beginning,” said Stefan. “That Monday evening, your dad called Jean-Patrick’s house to tell me that you’d been arrested by the police. At first I thought it was something to do with your papers being out of date, or something – after all, you’d been gone for about eighteen months, hadn’t you? But then he said it wasn’t the British police, it was policemen from one of the countries you’d been to, and when he gave me the cop’s name… well, you can imagine my reaction. I thought I’d lost you for good.

“But I wasn’t prepared just to give up. I couldn’t understand how Aarnist could possibly have found you, but if he had been able to get into your country, then I was sure I could follow him back to his. So I sat down with Nicky and Killian to try to sort out what to do. Nicky wanted to go back home to collect reinforcements – he said he was sure all our friends would have wanted to come and help. But I said it would take too long, and that I wanted to get after you before the trail got cold. I insisted that Killian talk the three of us past customs and the border police, and he did it with no trouble at all.

“Anyway, we found our way to your village and then asked the lady at the shop, and she looked up your parents’ address in the phone book and told us how to get there. I didn’t tell your parents about us, obviously: I just said we were your friends and that we wanted to know exactly what had happened, and so first they told us what they remembered, and then Killian dug about in their heads in case they’d forgotten anything. They weren’t able to tell us exactly what Aarnist had said, of course, but they were able to give us everything you had said when you were translating for him, so I knew that Aarnist was investigating what happened to Harlan, and that – according to what you told your parents – you were a witness, rather than a suspect. Not that that made me feel a lot better: I thought that once you got back into Arvel you’d be in plenty of trouble for running away, even if they didn’t blame you for Harlan’s death. But your dad said they’d left by car and that he had no idea which way they’d gone, or even where they were going. So we were stuck.

“I still couldn’t work out how they had found you, but Killian cracked it: he said they must have managed to make a portal of their own using the information they took from us at the school, and then traced you through your chip. He said we had to get our chips removed straight away, so that they couldn’t trace us the same way. But of course we couldn’t do that in your country because we had no ID papers and no medical records, so we had to go back home. But before we left I asked your dad to call Jean-Patrick if he got any news about you, and on the way back we arranged for a way to get news to us. Jean-Patrick really wanted to help if he could – he and the Webers had got to know us quite well over Christmas – and so we took them up to the hut. We didn’t explain exactly what the hut is, of course: I imagine Mr Narj would prefer not to have it known in your world that the portals exist, although personally I think the French kids could keep the secret. But we cut an extra key for them in the village and told them that if they got any news from your parents one of them should go up to the hut and leave a message on the desk, and later we arranged with Mr Narj that someone would check the hut for messages every day. And if he heard anything he could relay it through the Institute in Strossburi and they could call the Home and let us know.”

“And is that system still working?” I asked.

“Of course – at least, it was when I got arrested.”

“Then I should definitely be able to get a message to the Hub,” I said. “I can call Jean-Patrick from my parents’ house, and then Mr Narj will know we’re coming. He might not be able to rescue us, but at least we’ll have a chance.”

“Provided the Kerpians are still checking the hut every day,” said Stefan. “It’d be hard to blame them if they aren’t: it’s been nearly four months, after all.”

“True, but it’s worth a try. And if Dec can get the general to try radioing as well… anyway, what happened after Killian said you had to have your chips removed?”

“Well, I was in a tearing hurry, of course, and when they said we’d have to wait for the hospital to find a slot for us – it was hardly emergency surgery, after all – I got to the stage of suggesting we should get Marc to do the operation while Killian kept us asleep. I’m sure Marc could have done it, too, and when I asked him he said he’d certainly have a go at it if there was no other way. But in the end I let them persuade me that I wouldn’t be able to do anything about finding you anyway, and so it would be better to let the professionals take the chips out.

“Once we’d all had the chips removed I wanted to come back, or even try to find our way back to the Arvelan world through the Green World and the Holy Roman Empire. But Killian said it would be stupid to go back into Arvel without knowing for certain where you were. He pointed out that Aarnist was based in Eastern France and that he might have taken you there, rather than back to Laztaale, and that it wouldn’t be very clever if we all went and got ourselves arrested again after you’d worked so hard to get us out of that world.. And of course he was right, so for a while I tried to just carry on as usual, going to school and so on, as if there was nothing wrong. But by half term I just couldn’t keep living like that, and so I persuaded Killian to take me back to your England. Once I was safely back with your parents I sent Killian home, telling him I’d stay in touch using Jean-Patrick’s phone, and that I’d let them know the moment I heard anything. I couldn’t do anything much except sit and wait, but I think your parents liked having me around, because at least it meant they knew they weren’t the only ones worrying about you.

“And then, about a week ago, there was a knock on the door. I opened it – I thought it might even have been you, only it wasn’t: it was Aarnist and Irfan. Aarnist said he’d intended using your parents as bait to get you back, but that I’d do rather better, and so they brought me back here and kept me in this room until this morning. And you know the rest.”

“Right. Well, as long as Aarnist keeps his word and lets me visit my parents on the way to France I’ll almost certainly be able to get a message to Jean-Patrick. Then we just have to hope that Mr Narj checks the hut before we get there – or that he picks up the general’s radio message, of course. Look, Dec, I’ll write you out the message I want you to send in Kerpian but using the Western alphabet, so that you and the radio operators on the crawler can read it. It won’t matter if the pronunciation’s a bit wonky – as long as the gist of the message gets through it’ll do. Have you got a pen, Stefi?”

Silly question: of course he had, and his notebook, too. So I sat and thought for a moment and then composed a message warning the Kerpians that we were coming, explaining our situation and advising Mr Narj that everyone working in the Hub when we arrived needed to be wearing metal somewhere about their person, and preferably on their head. I wrote this out in phonetic Kerpian and then, after a moment’s thought, wrote it out again in French and English on another sheet of paper.

“I don’t suppose they’ll let me use the phone while I’m with my parents,” I said, “but if I leave this somewhere my parents will find it, they can call it through to Jean-Patrick after I’ve gone. Now, Dec, try reading this aloud.”

I gave him the Kerpian version and spent a while teaching him the pronunciation. We had to break off at one point when the guards came in with yet more microwaved offerings from the Crappy Meal Corporation, or whoever was supplying the Arvelan police service. I ate it because I was hungry, but I sincerely hoped that this would be the last time I would get one of these. Breakfast, to judge from my previous night in this cell, would at least be edible.

After we’d eaten we decided that we might as well settle down and try to get some sleep, so when the guard came to collect the remains of our food we asked him if we could use the facilities before he locked us in for the night. We were escorted, one at a time, to use the washroom at the end of the corridor. I took the opportunity to have a look around, but there was no exit at this end of the building, and the window in the toilet was no bigger than the one in the cell. Clearly we weren’t going to be able to leave that way.

I was a little worried in case Sam wanted to share with me, but I needn’t have been: once we were all back in the cell he helped Dec to get undressed – just in case there was a camera somewhere that we hadn’t found – and helped him to the mattress on the floor, and then he took his own clothes off, lay down next to Dec and pulled the blanket over them both. Stefan and I took our clothes off and he got into bed while I went and turned the light to its dim setting (it wouldn’t turn off completely) before joining him. And when he snuggled up to me and hugged me I felt a huge sense of relief: it looked as if he wasn’t going to hold a grudge against me for what I’d done with Sam.

“You missed my birthday, you know,” he told me. “I hope you’ve got me a present.”

“Once we get back home I’ll buy you whatever you want,” I promised him. “But until then I’m afraid the only thing I have to offer is me.”

“That will do perfectly.” And he hugged me hard and kissed me. “You’ve got no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

“I have,” I argued. “Ignore the stupid games I played with Dec and his friends – that was nothing but playing around. Even when Sam was doing his best to get close to me, I’d still have walked away from him in an instant if you’d been available.”

“I know. Actually, I played a few games over Christmas, too: most days we played with the Webers and Jean-Patrick, and Luc kept winding his brothers up and provoking them into doing stuff to him, and of course you know what Killian is like for games involving forfeits: even though Nicky has more or less weaned him off anything painful, he still enjoys being stripped and teased. So we played quite a lot of forfeit games, and the fact that Luc and Killian seemed to get most of the forfeits didn’t make it any less fun for the rest of us. But after we heard what had happened to you all that stopped, and I haven’t done anything physical since, even though Hansi and Tibor offered to take my mind off things by giving me a massage… mind you, once we get back home I think maybe I’ll take them up on it. I think it would be a pretty amazing experience.”

“Not unless they’re prepared to give me one at the same time,” I said. “Now we’re back together we’re staying that way. So… what exactly would you like me to do to celebrate your birthday – even if I am about six weeks late?”

“Why don’t you just try a few things, and when I find something I like I’ll let you know.”

It didn’t take me long to find something he liked. He hadn’t been kidding about not doing anything for several weeks, either, because that first time he only lasted about thirty seconds and I have no idea how I managed to swallow such a huge offering. But the second time I was able to draw it out for a lot longer, and the time after that…

Anyway, eventually we settled down to sleep, and I slept extremely well: now that Stefan and I were finally back together I felt I could face the future far better than I could have done without him.

When I woke up next morning I could hear Dec and Sam talking quietly to each other. It sounded like a disagreement, but I couldn’t make out the words, so I couldn’t hear what they were arguing about – at least, not until Dec realised that I was awake.

“Jake, tell him he’s staying with me,” he said.

“Well, of course he is – isn’t he?”

“No!” said Sam. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’re not,” I said. “Come on, Sam, why would you want to come with us? It’s going to be really dangerous. You’ll be much safer with Dec on the crawler.”

“But you need me to come with you! Jake, you know that there’s a good chance the Kerpians won’t get our radio message, and they might not get your telegraph message either… sorry, it’s a ‘telephone’, isn’t it? Anyway, they might not get it. And like you said, you might have to go on to the reptile world anyway. But I can stay behind with the Kerpians while you do that, and so while you’re away I can tell them everything they need to know – you know, about wearing metal and so on. And then when you come back from the reptile world, they’ll be ready to rescue you.”

“I’m sure Aarnist would never agree to leave you behind with the Kerpians,” I objected. “Actually I don’t think he’d agree to take you with us in the first place.”

“Yes, he would. I could say I’m hurt, or too tired to carry on. Besides, if they leave me behind it means that there’ll be one more of the mind-readers free to help deal with the reptiles. Otherwise he’ll be having to keep me under control.”

“That won’t work,” objected Dec. “Any of my people could see straight away that you weren’t really too tired or hurt.”

“But the other reason’s a good one, isn’t it? Besides, there’s another reason why I should come: I’m a trained Horde radio operator. I can fix the Kerpians’ radios to reach the general’s crawler, and I know all the right wavelengths to try. And the general said there were other crawlers in the right part of the world, so if he told them how to open a portal they could come through into the Kerpian world and help us. They could stop Aarnist and say something like ‘We’ll let you go back to your own world, but only if you let Jake and Stefan go’, or something like that. Aarnist might have thought our crawler wouldn’t want to risk Stefan getting hurt, but a completely different one might be crewed by people who couldn’t care less about Stefan, or you, either. Surely it’s worth a try?”

I thought about that. I wasn’t completely sure that a crawler popping up in front of Aarnist would be enough to persuade him to hand me and Stefan over – after all, our crawler hadn’t persuaded him to hand Stefan over. We hadn’t actually asked him to, of course, but I was fairly sure he wouldn’t have done. But the idea of leaving Sam behind at the Hub to brief the Kerpians was a good one. Aarnist might well buy the argument that it would be better to keep his Konjässiem unencumbered so that they could work on the Greys, and we could further point out, quite truthfully, that Sam couldn’t speak Kerpian, and so would be unlikely to do any harm if left behind. With any luck Aarnist wouldn’t know about the extensive language banks on Kerpian computers. And then we could come back from the Grey world to find a fully-briefed Kerpian militia waiting for us, and maybe even the crew of a Horde crawler, too. And maybe that would be enough to persuade Aarnist to hand us over.

Okay, that was a lot of maybes, but I still thought that perhaps I shouldn’t neglect any possibility…

“You’re not seriously thinking of going along with this, are you, Jake?” asked Dec.

“Well, he does make a good case for coming. I don’t think Aarnist will be willing to take him, though, so it probably won’t happen… although maybe we could suggest that it might be useful for him to have another hostage along in case anything happens to Stefan...”

“And you could tell him I don’t belong in his world anyway,” Sam added. “You could say that I only came back with you from my world because of how much I like you, and that if you went I’d have no reason to stay here. Of course, that wouldn’t be true: normally I’d be completely happy to stay with Dec – I mean, he’s my friend, too…”

“Do you mean that?” Dec asked him.

“Of course I do! I told you way back that the main reason I wanted to help you escape from my world was because of how brave I thought you were… anyway, you can see for yourself that I mean it, can’t you? If Jake was just going back home I’d certainly want to stay with you. We could go back to the crawler and live there. It’d be brilliant… but Jake needs us to help him. He needs you to go back to the crawler and organise things there, but I’d be more use going with him and doing all that stuff we’ve been talking about. And if it all works out and Jake and Stefan do manage to get free I’ll be able to come back to the crawler with you then, won’t I?”

“But what if something goes wrong?” asked Dec. “It’s bad enough Jake being in danger – I’d go mad if anything happened to you, too.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Surely you know how much I like you?”

“Then I’ll definitely come back, because I really like you, too.”

At this point there seemed to be a lot of hugging going on on the other mattress, so I discreetly settled down to cuddle Stefan, and once he woke up we were too wrapped up in each other to take a lot of notice of what was happening on the other side of the room. But afterwards I did find myself caught in a dilemma: I really didn’t want to take Sam into danger, and there was no doubt that this journey would be dangerous - for a start, if a Kerpian rescue attempt went wrong we might all be killed. And there was no guarantee that we would walk away from Region Two of the Grey world as easily as we had from Region Five, even if we did have the advantage there of being able to speak the local language. Quite possibly Aarnist would refuse to allow Sam to be left at the Hub, in which case he’d be sharing the dangers of the Grey world, too. But on the other hand, his plans might give us a realistic chance of being released: if Mr Narj knew what was happening and had been warned to wear something metal on his head, he could do something like closing the portal back to my world and refusing to open it again unless Stefan and I were released. So on balance, provided that he had a proper idea of what he was letting himself in for, I was in favour of taking Sam with us if possible.

By the time breakfast appeared (and I’d been right about it being a lot more appetising than supper had been) we had a couple of plans provisionally worked out, first if Sam was able to come with us, and a fall-back plan if he wasn’t. He and Dec arranged that the crawler would be listening out on a particular frequency at around nine in the morning and nine at night every day, so that if Sam was able to make use of a Hub radio he’d have a good chance of being heard. He and Dec synchronised their watches so that they would agree on when ‘nine o’clock’ actually was – as I’ve observed before, crawler time was best described as 'elastic'.

If Sam was not able to come with us, though… in that case we would have to rely on the crawler being successful in its attempts to contact someone in Kerpia with my message, to which end Dec would ask them to broadcast more or less continuously.

Shortly after breakfast the guard came back in to tell us to get ready to leave, and fifteen minutes later we were all in the centre of the circle waiting for the portal to be opened. I was surprised to see that today the ‘garage door’ extension was nowhere in sight.

“We can’t use our own vehicles this time,” said Aarnist, when I asked about it. “You’ll see why in a minute. But apart from that, this is a civilised country and our vehicles don’t really blend in very well: we’d probably be stopped, at least when we tried to leave the country. We’ve made other arrangements. So, if you two are ready… your other friends can go home now if they want. By the time they get there we’ll be well away.”

“Ah, well, about that… Sam isn’t actually from this world and he wants to come with us.”

“Explain.”

So I told him that Sam had come back from the Marxist world with us, that he couldn’t go back there for fear of being arrested for helping us to escape, and that he couldn’t really stay here either, because he couldn’t speak either Arvelan or Vestdansk and because he didn’t have a chip.

“And I don’t want him to end up as a slave, like we did,” I said. “So I said he could come with us. I’m sure you won’t mind – after all, it gives you another lever to use if I were to turn awkward. Not that I’m going to, but you’ve only got my word for that.”

He stared at me, apparently trying to work out what I was up to, but he was no Konjässi, and for some reason Irfan was nowhere in sight this morning. In the end he just shrugged and said that we could probably squeeze one more little one in.

“But make sure he knows what will happen if he does anything stupid,” he warned me. “We need him even less than we need Stefan, so if he steps out of line I’ll have no hesitation in getting rid of him.”

I translated that for Sam, adding “Are you sure you don’t want to stay here?” at the end. But he predictably said he was coming, and that was the end of it.

Then Gordiss arrived. Today he was carrying a small bag, and I realised that he was coming with us, which made sense if Aarnist thought there was any chance of the Kerpians sharing their technology with him. As soon as Gordiss arrived the scientists sprang into action, the fork-lift driver settled the inner lintel into place and the necessary connections were made, and the portal back to my world shimmered and opened. Three Konjässiem who had been talking to the scientists picked up their bags and came to join us, as did Gordiss, though there was still no sign of Irfan. But instead of waiting Aarnist picked up his own overnight bag and strode towards the portal.

“Keep up, now!” he said over his shoulder. “And don’t talk to any strangers!”

I thought that was an odd thing to say, but when I emerged from the portal into my own world I saw what he meant: although it was still quite early there were already some sightseers around. A couple were looking at us as we emerged, and they looked confused, as well they might have been: from their point of view we had walked out of a circle that had been empty ten seconds earlier. Of course, these days people aren’t usually allowed inside the stones, and the visitors must have been wondering who we were to have been allowed to go where most people couldn’t.

The Konjässiem were wearing their usual robes and Aarnist was in his military uniform, which I suppose gave them the air of being foreign dignitaries of some sort, though I’ve no idea what they would have made of the three of us. For a fleeting moment I considered yelling for help and saying that we were being kidnapped, but then I realised that with three Konjässiem just behind me I probably wouldn’t get beyond opening my mouth, and that even if I did they could make the visitors lose interest fairly quickly. And then I’d end up making the trip under close control, and we probably wouldn’t stop at my house, either. So I kept quiet.

Aarnist led us to the path and through the underpass to the visitor centre, completely ignoring anyone who seemed inclined to speak to him, and once we were outside he took us to the far side of the car park, where we found Irfan waiting for us with a minibus and a man who seemed to be asleep on his feet.

“All aboard!” he invited us as we arrived. “Jacob, would you mind telling this man he’ll be able to come and collect his bus here in three days’ time? I can give him the general idea, but you can put it into words for him.”

So I told the man the minibus would be back in three days, and he nodded and strolled off in the direction of the bus stop. I thought his chances of getting his bus back were not great, but perhaps I was doing Irfan a disservice: after all, I supposed that they were intending to come back here once the trip to Kerpia was over. I just hoped that I wouldn’t be with them when they returned.

The bus was a nine-seater, which was perfect: the party consisted of Aarnist, who was going to drive, Gordiss, Irfan, the other three Konjässiem, Sam, Stefan and me. I wasn’t sure quite how Irfan had managed to find it, but once he had I knew he would have had no trouble persuading the owner to let us ‘borrow’ it, even without being able to speak English.

Aarnist had a couple of problems with the gearbox at first, but by the time we were out of the car park he was driving smoothly enough, and soon we were back on the A303 heading towards London. I wasn’t actually sure that he was going to let me visit my parents on the way until he turned onto the A34 heading north.

“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

“Mind that you do,” he replied.

He found his way to my house with no problem – this was, after all, the third time that he’d been there – and drew up outside.

“All right, Jacob,” he said. “You’ve got ten minutes. Make the most of it.”

“Come in with me,” I invited. “You, too, if you want, Irfan. I’m not going to do anything stupid while you’ve got Stefan and Sam, am I?”

“Don’t worry, we’re coming,” said Irfan. “We wouldn’t want you to do anything you shouldn’t – such as making phone calls.”

I suppose I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. I got out of the bus and Aarnist and Irfan followed me up the path and waited a couple of metres back while I rang the bell. My mother opened the door, which of course led to hugs and tears and that sort of thing, and it took me a couple of minutes to actually get inside the house. By that point my father had appeared, which indicated that I’d been at least a day out in my calculations: I’d thought it was a Friday, but when I asked I was told that today was Saturday April 16th.

Finally I got everyone into the living room.

“The good news is that the High Captain’s investigation is almost over,” I said. “We’re on our way to Germany now, and there’s a place there where we’ll be able to go into the reptile world and speak to the boy he needs to interview. And after that he says we’ll be able to go home – that is right, isn’t it, High Captain?”

Aarnist nodded solemnly when I translated the question for him, though whether I could believe him was a different matter.

“There you are,” I said to my parents. “And as soon as it’s over I’ll call you – hopefully in a couple of days.”

“Don’t forget Passover starts on Monday evening,” said my father. “It would be really good if you could get back here by then.”

“I’m not sure if we’ll be able to get back that quickly,” I said. “It will depend on how quickly things happen in Germany. But I’ll try to let you know what’s happening, anyway.”

I didn’t particularly want to come back to England: once this was over, if Aarnist kept his word and let me go, I just wanted to get back to Milhüsa with Stefan and return to my normal life, at least until I was sure Aarnist had returned to Arvel. I wanted to be a long way out of his reach if he changed his mind and decided he wanted me again, and my parents’ house was far too close to Stonehenge for comfort. Even if Dec managed to reopen the portal back to the Horde world, allowing the general to capture and destroy Stonehenge, I wouldn’t feel safe if Aarnist knew where I was. It would be much safer to invite my parents to come and visit me instead. But this didn’t seem to be the time to go into that.

“I’d like to go up to my room and get changed,” I said. “These clothes need a wash, and I might not get another chance to put on something clean for a while.”

I got up and left the room. I wasn’t surprised when Irfan followed me: I knew he wanted to keep me away from the telephone. I just ignored him, went up to my room and got out a change of clothing. Of course everything that I had left behind in 2009 was now far too small for me, but my parents had bought me a few new things when I had been here over Christmas.

I took everything off, emptying my jeans pockets of everything except the note for Jean-Patrick: I knew that my mother always checked my pockets before putting my clothes in the wash, and I hoped that she’d remember to do so this time, too. I got dressed in my clean clothes, dumped the dirty stuff in the laundry basket and went back downstairs.

“I suppose we ought to go,” I said when I reached the living room. “We’ve still got a long way to go.”

“Wait a moment,” said my father. “You said earlier that ‘we’ll’ be able to go home after this is over. Is Stefan with you?”

“Yes, he’s outside in the bus with the rest of Aarnist’s men.”

“And is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine.”

“Good. He seems like a nice boy… Look, Jake, about you and Stefan… Is there anything we ought to know?”

Oh, God, I thought, this really isn’t the time… but I thought that I had to tell them something.

“He’s my friend,” I said.

“He’s not just a friend, is he? We’re not stupid, Jake, and he was here for quite a long time. It‘s obvious he cares about you very much, far more than any ordinary friend would. What I mean is, is it one way, or do you feel the same way about him?”

I took a deep breath. “It’s two-way,” I said. “I love him. I’m sorry you had to find out like this, but… I’m gay. It’s not something I chose, or anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“Then I want you to know that it doesn’t make any difference, Jake. We still love you.”

“Really? Mum?”

Mum was trying not to cry at this point, but she managed to nod and smile. “I suppose this means no grandchildren,” she said. “That’s a pity… but at least you’ve found a nice Jewish boy.”

“Huh? Stefan isn’t Jewish!”

“But he wears a Star of David. We saw it.”

“Ah. No, I gave him that,” I said. “He wanted to wear it to show how much he cares about me, but he’s not Jewish himself. Is that important?”

“Is it important to you?” asked my father.

“Well, not really, to be honest. It’s not as if we’re particularly religious, is it?”

“No, not really. The important thing is that you’re happy. So where did you meet him?”

“Up in the Vosges. I’d stumbled into his world by mistake, and we got talking… and we’ve been together ever since. It’ll be two years soon.”

“And what’s his world like?”

“Not so very different from ours. Their history is a bit different, but they’re at about the same technological level as ours.”

This was not, I felt sure, the time to tell them that Stefan’s father was a major in the SS, that he himself had been a student at a school for the sons of Nazi Party members, or that he’d been brought up to believe that Jews are both subhuman and intrinsically evil. Nor was I going to show them the little swastika neck chain he had given me in exchange for my Star of David: that was safely tucked away in my bag.

“We ought to be going,” said Irfan, breaking into my thoughts. “Would you ask your parents to go upstairs to their bedroom, please, Jacob?”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

So of course I just did it, because I didn’t have any choice. We all went up to my parents’ room and Irfan instructed them through me to lie down on the bed.

“We don’t want you to cause us any problems – such as calling the police or the border guards and telling them to stop our vehicle,” he said. “So you’re going to go to sleep for a while.”

“Just sleep?” I asked, urgently. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he said. “I just want them to stay here, away from the telephone, for a few hours, until we’re safely out of the country. Explain that to them, please.”

So I did, and before they could argue or ask questions Irfan closed them both down. He let me wait until I was sure I could see their chests rising and falling and then shepherded me back outside to the bus, closing the door carefully behind him.

“How long will they sleep?” I asked him.

“Ten hours or so,” he said. “I could have made it less, but it’s better to be sure. By then we’ll definitely be out of the country, even if we have to wait for transport across the sea. What’s the best way to do that, by the way?”

I knew there was no point in lying, so I told him to head for Folkestone, explaining that there was a tunnel under the sea, and that we could simply drive onto a train and drive off again in France.

The journey to Folkestone was uneventful. I thought perhaps that we might have problems getting a ticket for the train, but it turned out that Irfan had plenty of UK money with him. I suppose it’s not hard to get money if you're a Konjässi: you just knock on someone’s door, make them invite you in and then shut them down and pinch their wallet. Do that a few times and you’ve probably got enough cash to keep you going for quite a long time. Irfan must have been busy, because he had enough cash to pay for the crossing, with plenty left over to pay for fuel and motorway tolls on the other side. I went to the exchange kiosk and changed a couple of hundred pounds into Euros for him: I was fairly sure that would be enough for a return trip.

Passport control was no problem at all: I simply told the various officials that they had seen our papers, and Irfan did the rest. The guards all waved us through straight away.

Aarnist had bought a French road atlas at the terminal and spent the crossing planning a route, which meant that as soon as we arrived at Sangatte we were able to head straight off. These days you can do almost the entire journey to Strasbourg on motorways, and although the scenery isn’t very interesting if you do a long journey that way it does pass by fairly quickly. In only a little over five hours we could see the Vosges off to our right, and another hour or so brought us to Sélestat. I directed Aarnist up through Kintzheim to the beginning of the track that led up to the hut, and he parked the bus in an open space across the road from the track.

Stefan led us the rest of the way, though by now he hardly needed to glance at his compass once, and finally we arrived at the hut. The mist generators were either not yet working or were turned off, because we found it with no trouble at all. Stefan unlocked the door and led us inside.

There was no note on the desk. That didn’t surprise me: if Irfan’s forecast had been correct my parents were only just starting to stir. By the time they woke up properly it might well be too late in the day for my mother to think about laundry, in which case she wouldn’t find my note for another fifteen hours or so.

I went into the kitchen to flick the panel switch and then opened the trapdoor, leading the party down the ladder and along the tunnel to the Nexus Room. Gordiss was fascinated by it.

“Why did they decide to build it underground?” he asked me.

“Because they discovered that portals can be disrupted by bad weather,” I said. “Here the whole operation is sheltered from the elements.”

“That’s interesting. Maybe we should construct a dome over the Circle when we get back.”

I was by no means sure that the circle would still be there when they got back, but obviously I didn’t say so. Instead I opened the door marked 10, which was the one that led back to the Hub, and led the party along it until the door to the Hub was in sight. I wondered if the barrier would be set, and how Aarnist would react if it was and I told him the only way to pass it was to strip naked and leave all the equipment behind. But in fact there was no barrier there, and so we were able to walk through and open the door to the Hub. And the moment the door opened I felt Irfan’s control close around me.

“Be very, very careful,” he warned me. “I’m going to release you in a moment, but if you do anything to make me suspicious – anything at all – my colleagues know what to do. So if you want to be able to talk to your boyfriend ever again you need to tread very carefully indeed. Understand?”

“I understand,” I replied.

“Good. Just remember that I’m going to be inside your head from now on.”

He released me and I was able to step forward through the door into the Hub. I realised almost at once that our radio message hadn’t got through either, because there were militiamen and workers in the hall, and none of them was wearing a helmet.

“Excuse me,” I called to the nearest one, and everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at us. The room fell silent and a couple of the militiamen went and picked up their rifles.

“I’m Stone Jake,” I went on. “Is Narj Larzel here?”

They seemed to relax a bit at that. One of the militiamen went through the arch that led to the office and returned with Mr Narj, who took one look at me and came to meet me almost at a run, smiling at first, but then frowning a little when he saw the people with me.

“Hello, Jake,” he greeted me. “Who are all these people?”

I took a deep breath. This was going to be really tricky…

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So Jake is back where he wanted to be, but whether he can successfully wriggle his way free remains to be seen.

Feel free to write to me – as I said at the start, the mail address gothmog@nyms.net works perfectly inbound – if you have any comments or questions. One good thing about the flood of “Hey, where's 13?” mails I got last week was that at least I know now that plenty of people are still reading the story. Well, you don't have to wait until something goes wrong to write...

Copyright 2011: all rights reserved. Please do not reprint, repost or otherwise reproduce this or any part of it anywhere without my written permission.

David Clarke