Operation Chaos Read online

  Therefore I called the group to me when at last the questioning was done. Except for Ginny, who couldn't help being spectacular, and Svartalf, who sat at her feet with a human soul in his eyes, they were an unimpressive lot to see, tired, sweaty, haggard, neckties loosened or discarded, hair unkempt, cigarets in most hands. I was probably less glamorous, perched on a stool facing them. My voice grated and I'd developed a tic in one cheek. The fact that a blessed saint had joint tenancy of my body didn't much affect pain, scared, fallible me.

  "Things have got straightened out," I said. "We made a mistake. God doesn't issue personal orders to His angels and saints, at least not on our behalf. It appears, Pastor, from the form of your invocation, you understood that. But consciously or not, the rest of us assumed we're more important than we are." Lobachevsky corrected me. "No, everybody's important to Him. But there must be freedom, even for evil. And furthermore, there are considerations of?well, I guess you can't say Realpolitik. I don't know if it has earthly analogues. Roughly speaking, though, neither God nor the Adversary want to provoke an early Armageddon. For two thousand years, they've avoided direct incursions into each other's, uh, home territories, Heaven or hell. That policy's not about to be changed.

  "Our appeal was heard. Lobachevsky's a full‑fledged saint. He couldn't resist coming down, and he wasn't forbidden to. But he's not allowed to aid us in hell. If he goes along, it has to be strictly as an observer, inside a mortal frame. He's sorry, but that's the way the elixir elides. If we get scragged there, he can't help our souls escape. Every spirit has to make its own way?No matter. The result was, he entered this continuum, with me as his logical target.

  "Bolyai's different. He heard too, especially since the prayer was so loosely phrased it could well have referred to him. Now, he hasn't made sainthood. He says he's been in Purgatory. I suspect most of us'd think of it as a condition where you haven't got what it takes to know God directly but you can improve yourself. At any rate, while he wasn't in Heaven, he wasn't damned either. And so he's under no prohibition as regards taking an active part in a fight. This looked like a chance to do a good deed. He assessed the content of our appeal, including the parts we didn't speak, and likewise chose me. Lobachevsky, who's more powerful by virtue of sanctity, and wasn't aware of his intent, arrived a split second ahead of him."

  I stopped to bum a cigaret. What I really wanted was a gallon of hard cider. My throat felt like a washboard road in summer. "Evidently these cases are governed by rules," I said. "Don't ask me why; I'm sure the reasons are valid if we could know them; in part, I guess, it's to protect mortal flesh from undue shock and strain. Only one extra identity per customer. Bolyai hasn't the capability of a saint, to create a temporary real body out of whatever's handy, as you suggested a while back, Dr. Nobu. In fact, he probably couldn't have used organized material if we'd prepared some. His way to manifest himself was to enter a live corpus. Another rule: the returned soul can't switch from person to person. It must stay with whom it's at for the duration of the affair.

  "Bolyai had to make a snap decision. I was preempted. His sense of propriety wouldn't let him, uh, enter a woman. It wouldn't do a lot of good if he hooked up with one of you others, who aren't going. Though our prayer hadn't mentioned it, he'd gathered from the overtones that the expedition did have a third member who was male. He willed himself there. He always was rash. Too late, he discovered he'd landed in Svartalf"

  Barney's brick‑house shoulders drooped. "Our project's gone for nothing?"

  "No," I said. "With Ginny's witchcraft to help‑boost his feline brain power‑Bolyai thinks he can operate. He's spent a sizable chunk of afterlife studying the geometry of the continua, exploring planes of existence too weird for him to hint at. He loves the idea of a filibuster into hell."

  Svartalf s tail swung, his ears stood erect, his whiskers dithered.

  "Then it worked!" Ginny shouted. "Whoopee!"

  "So far and to this extent, yeah." My determination was unchanged but my enthusiasm less. Lobachevsky's knowledge darkened me?I sense a crisis. The Adversary can ill afford to let you succeed. His mightiest and subtlest forces will be arrayed against you.

  "Well," Karlslund said blankly. "Well, well."

  Ginny stopped her war dance when I said: "Maybe you better make that phone call, Dr. Griswold."

  The little scientist nodded. "I'll do it from my office. We can plug in an extension here, audio‑visual reception." We were far too groggy to give a curse about the lawfulness of that, though I do believe it's permissible, not being an actual scryertap.

  We had a few minutes' wait. I held Ginny close by my side. Our troops muttered aimlessly or slumped exhausted. Bolyai was alone in his cheerfulness. He used Svartalf to tour the lab with eager curiosity. By now he knew more math and science than living men will acquire before world's end; but it intrigued him to see how we were going about things. He was ecstatic when Janice found him a copy of the National Geographic.

  The phone awoke. We saw what Griswold did. The breath sucked in between my teeth. Shining Knife was indeed back.

  "I'm sorry to keep you waiting," the professor said. "It was impossible for me to come earlier. What can I do for your"

  The G‑man identified himself and showed his sigh. "I'm trying to get in touch with Mr. and Mrs. Steven Matuchek. You know them, don't you?"

  "Well, ah, yes . . .haven't seen them lately‑" Griswold was a lousy liar.

  Shining Knife's countenance hardened. "Please listen, sir. I returned this afternoon from a trip to Washington on their account. The matter they're involved in is that big. I checked with my subordinates. Mrs. Matuchek had disappeared. Her husband had spent time in a spyproof conference room. He'd not been seen to leave his place of work at quitting rime. I sent a man in to ask for him, and he wasn't to be found. Our people had taken pictures of those who went into the plant. A crime lab worker here recognized you among the members of the conference. Are you sure the Matucheks aren't with you?"

  "Y‑yes. Yes. What do you want with them? Not a criminal charge?"

  "No, unless they misbehave. I've a special order enjoining them from certain actions they may undertake. Whoever abetted them would be equally subject to arrest."

  Griswold was game. He overcame his shyness and sputtered: "Frankly, sir, I resent your implication. And in any event, the writ must be served to have force. Until such time, they are not bound by it, nor are their associates."

  "True. Mind if I come look around your place? They might happen to be there . . . without your knowledge."

  "Yes, sir, I do mind. You may not."

  "Be reasonable, Dr. Griswold. Among other things, the purpose is to protect them from themselves."

  "That attitude is a major part of what I dislike about the present Administration. Good day to you, sir."

  "Uh, hold." Shining Knife's tone remained soft, but nobody could mistake his expression. "You don't own the building you're in."

  "fm responsible for it. Trismegistus is a private foundation. I can exercise discretionary authority and forbid access to your . . . your myrmidons."

  "Not when they arrive with a warrant, Professor."

  "Then I suggest you obtain one." Griswold broke the spell.

  In the lab, we regarded each other. "How long?" I asked.

  Barney shrugged. "Under thirty minutes. The FBI has ways."

  "Can we scram out of here?" Ginny inquired of him.

  "I wouldn't try it. The area probably went under surveillance before Shining Knife tried to call. I expect he stayed his hand simply because he doesn't know what we're doing and his orders are to proceed with extreme caution."

  She straightened. "Okay. Then we go to hell." Her mouth twitched faintly upward. "Go directly to hell. Do not pass Go. Do not collect two hundred dollars."

  "Huh?" Barney grunted, as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. "No! You're as crazy as the Feds think you are! No preparation, no proper equipment?"

  "We can cobble together a lot wit
h what's around here," Ginny said. "Bolyai can advise us, and Lobachevsky till we leave. We'll win an advantage of surprise. The demonic forces won't have had time to organize against our foray. Once we're out of American jurisdiction, can Shining Knife legally recall us? And he won't keep you from operating our lifeline. That'd be murder. Besides, I suspect he's on our side, not glad of his duty. He may well offer you help." She went to Barney, took one of his hands between both of hers, and looked up into his craggy face. "Don't hinder us, old friend," she pleaded. "We've got to have you on our side."

  His torment was hurtful to see. But he started ripping out commands. Our team plunged into work.

  Griswold entered. "Did you?Oh. You can't leave now."

  "We can't not," I said.

  "But you haven't . . . haven't had dinner! You'll be weak and?Well, I know I can't stop you. We keep a fridge with food in the research lab, for when a project runs late. I'll see what it holds."

  So that's how we went to storm the fastness of hell: Janice's borrowed shoulder purse on Ginny, and the pockets of Barney's outsize jacket (sleeves haggled short) on me, a-bulge with peanut butter sandwiches, tinned kipper for Svartalf‑Bolyai, and four cans of beer.

  XXXI

  WE HAD SOME equipment, notably Ginny's kit. This included Valeria s primary birth certificate, which Ashman had brought. The directions he could give us for using it were the main reason he'd been recruited. She put in her own bag, clipped to her waist, for the time being.

  Nobody, including our geometers, knew exactly what would and would not work in hell. Lobachevsky was able to tell us that high‑religious symbols had no power there as they do here. Their virtue comes from their orientation to the Highest, and the fundamental thing about hell is that no dweller in it can love. However, we might gain something from paganism. Its element of honor and justice meant nothing where we were bound, but its element of power and propitiation did, and although centuries have passed since anyone served those gods, the mana has not wholly vanished from their emblems.

  Ginny habitually wore on her dress the owl pin that showed she was a licensed witch. Griswold found a miniature jade plaque, Aztec, carved with a grotesque grinning feathered serpent, that could be secured to the wereflash beneath my shirt. A bit sheepish under Pastor Karlslund's eye, Barney fished out a silver hammer pendant, copy of a Viking era original. It belonged to his wife, but he'd carried it himself "for a rabbit's foot" since this trouble broke, and now passed the chain around Svartalf s neck.

  Projectile weapons weren't apt to be worth lugging. Ginny and I are pretty good shots in the nearly Euclidean space of this plenum. But when the trajectory is through unpredictable distortions that affect the very gravity, forget it, chum. We buckled on swords. She had a slender modern Solingen blade, meant for ritual use but whetted to a sharp point and edge. Mine was heavier and older, likewise kept for its goetic potency, but that stemmed from its being a cutlass which had once sailed with Decatur.

  Air might be a problem. Hell was notoriously foul. Scuba rigs were in stock, being used for underwater investigations. When this gets you involved with nixies or other tricky creatures, you need a wizard or witch along, whose familiar won't be a convenient beast like a seal unless you have the luck to engage one of the few specialists. Accordingly there are miniature oxygen bottles and adjustable masks for a wide variety of animals. We could outfit Svartalf, and I tied another pint‑size unit to the tank on my back?for Val, in case.

  That completed the list. Given time, we could have done better. We could have ridden a dragon instead of two brooms, with an extra beast packing several tons of stuff against every contingency that a strategic analysis team might propose. Still, the Army had used that approach and failed. We had fresh knowledge and a unique scout. Maybe those would serve.

  While we bucked ourselves with several helpers, Barney and Nobu made the final preparations to transmit us. Or almost final. At the last minute I asked them to do an additional job as soon as might be.

  At the center of the Nexus drawn on the door, whose shape I won't reveal, they'd put a regular confining pentacle set about with blessed candles. A giant bell jar hung from a block and tackle above, ready to be lowered. This was for the counter‑mass from the hell universe, which might be alive, gaseous, or otherwise troublesome. "After we've gone," I said, "lay a few hundred extra pounds of material in there, if the area's not too dangerous to enter.

  "What?" Barney said, astonished. "But that'd allow, uh, anything" pursuer?to make the transition with no difficulty.

  "Having arrived here, it can't leave the diagram," I pointed out. "We can and will, in a mighty quick jump. Have spells ready to prevent its return home. Thing is, I don't know what we'll find. Could be an item, oh, of scientific value; and the race needs more data about hell. Probably we won't collect any loot. But let's keep the option."

  "Okay. Sound thinking, for a lunatic." Barney wiped his eyes. "Damn, I must be allergic to something here."

  Janice didn't weep alone when we bade good‑bye. And within me paced the grave thought:

  ?No more may I aid you, Steven Pavlovitch, Virginia Williamovna, Janos Farkasovitch, and cat who surely has a soul of his own. Now must I become a mere watcher and recorder, for the sake of nothing except my curiosity. I will not burden you with the grief this causes me. You will not be further aware of my presence. May you fare with God's blessing.

  I felt him depart from the conscious part of my mind like a dream that fades as you wake and try to remember. Soon he was only something good that had happened to me for a couple of hours. Or no, not entirely. I suspect what calm I kept in the time that followed was due to his unsensed companionship. He couldn't help being what he was.

  Holding our brooms, Ginny and I walked hand in hand to the Nexus. Svartalf paced ahead. At the midpoint of the figure, we halted for a kiss and a whisper before we slipped the masks on. Our people cast the spell. Again the chamber filled with night. Energies gathered. Thunder and earthquake brawled. I hung onto my fellows lest we get separated. Through the rising racket, I heard my witch read from the parchment whereon stood the name Victrix, urging us toward her through diabolic space‑time.

  The room, the world, the stars and universes began to rotate about the storm's eye where we stood. Swifter and swifter they turned until they were sheer spinning, the Grotte quern itself. Then was only a roar as of great waters. We were drawn down the maelstrom. The final glimpse of light dwindled with horrible speed, and when we reached infinity, it was snuffed out. Afterward came such twistings and terrors that nothing would have sent us through them except our Valeria Victrix.

  XXXII

  I MUST HAVE blanked out for a minute or a millennium. At least, I became aware with ax‑chop abruptness that the passage was over and we had arrived.

  Wherever it was.

  I clutched Ginny to me. We searched each other with a touch that quivered and found no injuries. Svartalf was hale too. He didn't insist on attention as he normally would. Bolyai made him pad in widening spirals, feeling out our environment.

  With caution I slipped off my mask and tried the air. It was bitterly cold, driving in a wind that sought to the bones, but seemed clean?sterile, in fact.

  Sterility. That was the whole of this place. The sky was absolute and endless black, though in some fashion we could see stars and ugly cindered planets, visibly moving in chaotic paths; they were pieces of still deeper darkness, not an absence but a negation of light. We stood on a bare plain, hard and gray and flat as concrete, relieved by nothing except scattered boulders whose shapes were never alike and always hideous. The illumination came from the ground, wan, shadowless, colorless. Vision faded at last into utter distance. For that plain had no horizon, no interruptions; it went on. The sole direction, sound, movement, came from the drearily whistling wind.

  I've seen some abominations in my time, I thought, but none to beat this . . . No. The worst is forever a changeling in my daughter's crib.

  Ginny removed he
r mask too, letting it hang over the closed bottle like mine. She shuddered and hugged herself. The dress whipped around her. "I w‑w‑was ready to guard against flames," she said. It was as appropriate a remark as most that are made on historic occasions.

  "Dame described the seventh circle of the Inferno as frozen," I answered slowly. "There's reason to believe he knew something. Where are we?"

  "I can't tell. If the name spell worked, along with the rest, we're on the same planet‑if 'planet' means a lot here‑as Val will be, and not too far away." We'd naturally tried for a beforehand arrival.

  "This isn't like what the previous expeditions reported."

  "No. Nor was our transition. We used different rituals, and slanted across time to boot. Return should be easier."

  Svartalf disappeared behind a rock. I didn't approve of that. "Kammen Sie zuriick!" I shouted into the wind. "Retournez‑vous!" I realized that, without making a fuss about it, Lobachevsky had prior to our departure impressed on me fluent French and German. By golly, Russian too!

  "Meeowr‑r," blew back. I turned. The cat was headed our way from opposite to where he'd been. "What the dickens?" I exclaimed.

  "Warped space," Ginny said. "Look." While he trotted steadily, Svartalf's path wove as if he were drunk. "A line where he is must answer to a curve elsewhere. And he's within a few yards. What about miles off?"

  I squinted around. "Everything appears straight."

  "It would, while you're stationary. Br‑r‑r! We've got to get warmer."

  She drew the telescoping wand from her purse. The star at its tip didn't coruscate here; it was an ember. But it made a lighted match held under our signatures and Svartalf s paw-print generate welcome heat in our bodies. A bit too much, to be frank; we started sweating. I decided the hell universe was at such high entropy‑so deep into thermodynamic decay‑that a little potential went very far.

  Svartalf arrived. Staring uneasily over the plain, I muttered, "We haven't met enough troubles. What're we being set up for?"