"You've mentioned him only about fifty times."

"Well, then, how about Grandfather Nikko and how he saved the President's life on the eve of the first election? Did I tell you that one?" Packer was not quick enough to pretend he had heard it. "No? Ahh, now there's a story."

Packer had grown used to Kalnikov's interminable stories, and was even beginning to enjoy them. They had, after all, a lot of time on their hands while waiting for this or that corridor to clear, or for one or another contact to appear with information. The two men had become very good friends and wily conspirators.

As Kalnikov warmed to his tale, Packer sat thinking of their future as fugitives. Their cramped hideout beneath the docking bay in the hydraulics service area had become a prison; Packer longed for the run of his lab again and vowed that he would never complain about his small office again.

"When are we getting out of here?"

"Eh? What's that?" Kalnikov was lost in his narrative.

"When is all this going to be over?"

"You are getting anxious, my friend."

"Who wouldn't be? I'm tired of all this sneaking around."

"Do not be impatient. We will find out more at the second shift meeting. I am expecting a report from our contact inside the director's office."

"We already have all these reports. They tell us nothing." "I disagree. They tell us a great deal. They tell us that the mutineers are doing nothing. They are waiting. In the meantime they are trying to maintain the illusion that everything is running smoothly and normally. Though of course we know differently,"We could disrupt that illusion." "We could-and we will. But not yet. The time is not ripe,,, "When?" moaned Packer. He did not have Kalnikov's disposition for waiting.

"Soon.. Very soon. When the mutineers openly make their bid for taking control of the station-then we act. The citizens of Gotham will know which side to come in on. We will let the momentum of their own actions fuel their undoing."

"A lot of people could get hurt."

Kalnikov lifted his great shoulders. "Yes, some may be hurt. Freedom is a costly thing; it exacts a heavy toll always. But fewer will be hurt this way than if we acted too soon. We must not let the mutineers think there is any reason to act sooner than they wish to. Let their plans harden with certainty of success. Then when we arise to oppose them, they will have to abandon their plans and improvise. That is always a great disadvantage in struggles such as this."

"And in the meantime?"

"In the meantime there is always MIRA."

"Yes, always MIRA. But that is a long shot. We need proper equipment to even begin."

"The equipment is coming. It is coming. Trust me."

Packer sometimes feared that Kalnikov mouthed his revolutionary rhetoric the way a parrot mouthed saucy endearments -full of the bravado and dash, but utterly lacking in the ability to follow through. That the Russian pilot was a romantic dreamer he already knew; whether Kalnikov could back up what he so ardently espoused remained to be seen. Still, Packer had no better plan himself, so he clung to Kalnikov's ideas like a man dangling from a tightrope and prayed the drop wouldn't kill him.

20

… THERE'S NO QUESTION ABOUT it,Adjani.This is what we saw last night. It could not have been anything else." Spence turned the charm over in his hands, studying it closely. "But it doesn't do justice to the genuine article by half."

"You saw a naga spirit, Spencer Reston? I cannot believe it -though a great many unbelievable things seem to be happening to me of late. Do you also say you saw this creature?" He looked at Adjani with a half-skeptical, half-awed expression.

"I saw it, Gita. And I agree, it is undoubtedly what this charm represents. But Spence is right, the creature far surpasses this trinket for strangeness."

They were huddled together in the shade of the troop carrier while the governor's palace guards ate a leisurely midday meal. The thin mountain air was cool on their faces, the sun was hot, and they were grateful for a brief respite from the back-breaking ride over the wretched road.

"And not only that," Spence continued. "We found a temple with an image of the Dream Thief. The real Dream Thief!"

"Undoubtedly it was Brasputi-the ruler of the Rsis and Vidyadharas. You will find his image all over Darjeeling."

"This one was in the old section."

"And it looked just like a Martian."

"I wish I could have seen it, in that case."

"Don't worry, Gita, we're all going to see the real live Brasputi very soon."

"What are we going to do?" moaned Gita. "To be delivered into our enemies' hands like chickens for the plucking… ahh!" His round face convulsed in an expression of deepest grief for their impending plight.

"We're not there yet," soothed Adjani.

"Far from it," said Spence. "I have something up my sleeve here I've never told you about-either of you." He reached into a zippered pocket of his jumpsuit and pulled out a small, flattened shell-like disk. He held it in his hand and felt its strange power quicken to his touch.

"What is it?"

"It's called bneri -it's some sort of signaling device. Kyr gave t to me. He said that if I ever needed him I was to take this and cold it while thinking about him, and he would know I was in rouble and he'd come to help."

"Let me see it," said Adjani. "A psychoactive instrument. Fascinating. Why didn't you show me this sooner?"

"I don't know. Maybe there's still a part of me that thinks I'm going to wake up and find this has all been one grand absurd dream. But this-this tangible object reminds me it's real-too horribly real. I don't like to dwell on it."

"Try it," said Gita excitedly. "Oh, please try it now."

Spence looked at the disk in his hand and felt its warmth filling his palm. He closed his eyes and began to concentrate, but before he could even frame a single thought he felt it snatched from him. His eyes flew open and he stared into the barrel of a rifle.

One of the guards, watching them closely, had come up vile they were talking. He held the bneri in his hand and turned t over, frowning.

"Gita, tell him it is nothing-a shell. Ask him to give it back, Please." Spence smiled at the guard as he spoke, but his voice,eras taut as drawn wire.

Gita rapidly conveyed the message to the guard. He looked it the object and at Spence and then took the device and flung it into the brush at the side of the road. The last Spence saw of his valuable gift, it was skimming through the bush-tops down the ride of the mountain.

"No!" he cried, jumping up.

The soldier shoved him back with the butt of his rifle and;pence fell against the side of the truck. The leader of the guards called his men to him and there was a short secretive conference.

"I don't like the look of this," said Gita. "What are they planning?"

Spence, horrified, ignored the comment and stared at the)lace where he had last seen their only hope sailing away and moaned, "Well, that's that. We're in it now." He turned to his fiends. "I'm sorry. I never should have gotten you mixed up in any of this. It's my fault."

"Spence, for the last time stop apologizing. Do you have such a monumental ego that you believe this to be all your doing? This is just one more battle in the age-old struggle between the powers of light and darkness."

Spence could take no comfort from this speech. He still thought of his trouble as his trouble; the thought that it might indeed have some larger significance did not console him at all. …

THE TRUCK RUMBLED UP a winding mountain track and rounded a curve cut in the side of the mountain. A tiny village swung into view.

"There it is," said Adjani. "Rangpo-that is where the seminary of Ari's grandfather is located. You can see the walls of the old monastery just off over there. See them?"