Contest

Reese was frightened, agitated, desperately looking -- no, smelling -- in every direction.

She's surrounded, Swain thought. She knows we're here, but she's decided we're not worth worrying about. There's something else out there, something more dangerous...

There was no time to waste.

This was the chance.

Swain turned to the others and whispered, 'Come on! We're moving now.'

Swain half-dragged, half-carried Balthazar out through the doorway, not daring to take his eyes off Reese. The others raced past him and headed for the open stairwell. Swain limped as fast as he could toward the stairwell, straining under Balthazar's dead weight. He was almost at the stairwell when the attack on Reese began.

A hood.

Squealing fiercely, it leapt over the railing from the Ground Floor, claws extended, jaws wide open.

Swain heaved Balthazar into the stairwell, trying as he did to watch what was happening behind him. And as he disappeared into the stairwell, the last thing Swain saw was a fleeting glimpse of Reese, shrieking madly, swinging her tail around to defend herself against the onslaught of incoming hoods.

Feet pounding, Swain hurried up the stairs, Balthazar's weight pressing heavily down against his shoulders.

The others were waiting for him at the fire door marked '3'. When he joined them, Swain passed Balthazar over to Hawkins.

'Why are we stopping here?' the young cop asked. 'Shouldn't we keep going up?'

'We can't go any higher,' Swain said. 'We can't get out there. The door to the roof's electrified.'

'Daddy, what are we doing?' Holly said.

Swain eased the fire door open slightly. 'Looking for a hiding place, honey.'

'Daddy, where are the monsters?'

'I don't know. Hopefully not up here.'

'Daddy...'

'Shh. Just wait here,' Swain said. Holly stepped back, silent.

Swain stepped through the doorway and scanned the room.

Yes. He was where he wanted to be.

The wide low-ceilinged study hall stretched away from him, its L-shaped desks creating a waist-high maze that spread right across the room. The whole room was dark, save for the soft blue city light that filtered in through the windows on the far side.

Slowly, Swain bent down to look under the desks. Through the legs he could see all the way across the room. There were no feet -- or whatever the hell these creatures walked on -- in sight.

The study hall was empty.

He poked his head back through the fire door. 'Okay everyone. Inside, quickly.'

The others filed into the study hall. Swain took Holly's hand and led her through the winding maze of desks.

'Daddy. I don't like it here.'

Swain was looking around the room. 'Yeah, me neither,' he said, distracted.

'Daddy?'

'What, honey?'

'Daddy, can we go now--?'

Swain pointed to a corner near the windows. 'There it is.' He quickened his pace, pulling Holly harder.

Hawkins was walking behind them. 'What is it?' he asked. All he could see was a sign on the wall reading:

QUIET PLEASE.

THIS ROOM IS FOR PRIVATE STUDY ONLY.

NO CARRY BAGS PERMITTED.

'Next to the sign,' Swain said.

Beside the sign on the wall, Hawkins saw a large, solid, grey door. It looked like some sort of maintenance door.

Swain reached for the knob. It turned easily. Unlocked.

The door opened slowly, with the distinctive hiss of a hydraulic valve. Swain didn't think much of it. All the big doors at the hospital needed hydraulics to help people open them, they were that heavy.

He reached for the light switch, but decided against it. Any light would be a certain giveaway.

He surveyed the room before him. Cold grey concrete walls, a janitor's cart filled with buckets and mops, shelves packed with bottles of detergent and floor wax, and several tarps stretched over large mounds of more janitorial equipment.

Diffused white light from the streetlights outside streamed in through two long rectangular windows high up on the left-hand wall. Directly opposite the door, dividing the room in two, was a floor-to-ceiling cyclone fence with a rusted iron gate in its centre. Beyond the fence were more shelves of detergent and a few more piles of equipment covered in dark hessian cloth.

The group moved inside and Swain closed the door behind them. The hydraulic door shut with a soft whump.

Holly sat away from the door, up against the cyclone fence. Hawkins put Balthazar on the floor beneath the windows and scanned the maintenance room, nodding. 'We should be safe here.'

'For a while, yes,' Swain said.

Selexin asked, 'How long do you think we should stay here?'

'As long as we can,' Swain said.

'Hooray,' Hawkins said blandly.

'And how long is that?' Selexin again.

'I don't know. Maybe right up till the end. At the moment I'm not quite sure.'

'You cannot forget that there will always be something out there,' Selexin said. 'Even when all the contestants are dead, you will still have the Karanadon to face.'

'I don't have to face anything,' Swain said harshly.

'What does that mean?'

'It means, I'm not here to fight. It means I'm not here to win your stupid contest. It means that at the moment all I'm worried about is getting my daughter and the rest of us out of here alive.'

'But you can't do that unless you win,' Selexin said angrily.

Swain looked hard at the little man. He was silent for a few seconds.

'I wouldn't be so sure of that,' he said softly, almost to himself.

'What was that?' Selexin said. It was an argument now.

'I said, I wouldn't be so sure of that.'

'You believe you can get out of the labyrinth?' Selexin challenged.

Swain was silent. He looked over at Holly by the cyclone fence, sucking her thumb.

Selexin said again, 'Do you seriously think you can get out of the labyrinth?'

Swain was silent.

Hawkins whispered to him, 'You think we can get out?'

Swain looked at the windows near the ceiling, thinking to himself. At last he spoke. 'Yes.'

'Impossible.' Balthazar's guide stepped forward. 'Absolutely impossible.'

'You stay out of this,' Selexin snapped angrily.

Swain stared at Selexin. The little man had been indignant before, distressed even, but he had never been downright angry.

Balthazar's guide stepped back immediately. Selexin spun back to face Swain.

'How?' he demanded.

'How?'

'Yes, how do you propose we get out?'

'You want to get out?' Swain couldn't believe it. After the lecture he had received before about the grandeur and honour associated with the Presidian, he found it difficult to believe that Selexin would want to get out.

'As a matter of fact I do.'

Balthazar's guide interrupted again, 'Oh, you do, do you? Well forgive me for reminding you of an unpleasant fact, Selexin, but you can't!'

Selexin didn't say anything.

Balthazar's guide went on. 'Selexin, the Presidian has begun. It cannot and will not be stopped until a winner has been found. It is the only honourable way.'

'I think any honour this thing had went flying out the window when your friend Bellos brought his bloodhounds along,' Swain said.

'I agree,' Selexin said, glaring at Balthazar's guide. 'Bellos has broken the rules. And with hoodaya, he cannot and will not be stopped. We must get out.'

'And do what?' the other guide sneered, 'use our witnessing teleports to call for help? They transmit vision only, Selexin, not sound.'

'Then anything,' Selexin said. 'If two contestants leave the labyrinth and initialise their witnessing teleports and wave for the cameras, the controllers of the Presidian will have to realise that something is amiss.'

The other guide stared at Selexin. 'I do not think our two contestants will last very long outside the labyrinth,' he said smugly.

'Why?'

'As a matter of fact,' the other guide smiled, 'I would say that they would not last any longer than exactly fifteen minutes.'

'Oh,' Selexin frowned, remembering. 'Yes.'

Swain was bewildered. It was as if Selexin and Balthazar's guide were speaking in another language.

'What does that mean?' he asked Selexin.

Selexin spoke sadly. 'Do you remember what I told you before about your wristband?'

Swain looked down at the heavy grey band around his wrist. He'd forgotten about it entirely.

The little green light still glowed brightly. The display now read:

INITIALISED--6

Six? Swain thought. He remembered the contestant on the Ground Floor -- the Konda -- that had been killed by the hoods. The wristband, it appeared, was counting down now. Striking out a number as each contestant was eliminated. Until only one remained.

And when only one was left, then came the Karanadon that Selexin kept talking about. Whatever that was.

'Do you remember?' Selexin said again.

'Yes, I think I remember.'

'Do you recall that if your wristband detects that it is outside the electronic field surrounding the labyrinth, it will automatically set itself to detonate?'

Swain frowned. It all suddenly made sense. 'And I get fifteen minutes to get back inside.'

'Exactly.' Balthazar's guide spat.

Nobody spoke. There was silence for a full minute. Someone took a long, deep breath.

Balthazar's guide spoke: 'So even if you get out, you are still a dead man.'

Swain looked at him and snorted. 'Thanks.'

'You know, you're a real great help,' Hawkins said to the little man.

'At least I am realistic about my situation.'

'At least I give a shit about somebody else's life,' Hawkins said.

'I would be more concerned about taking care of my own if I were you.'

'Yeah, well you're not me--'

'All right. All right,' Swain said. 'Settle down. We've got to find a way out of this, not fight among ourselves.' He turned to Selexin. 'Is there any way we can get this thing off my wrist?'

Selexin shook his head. 'No. It doesn't come off... unless you...' he shrugged.

'I know, I know. Unless I win the Presidian, right?'

Selexin nodded. 'Only the officials at the other end have the proper equipment to remove it.'

'Can we break it open?' Hawkins suggested.

'Can anyone here break down that door?' Balthazar's guide asked, pointing to the maintenance room's heavy hydraulic door, knowing the answer. 'If not, then no-one here can break open that wristband. It's too strong.'

The group went silent.

Swain looked down at the wristband again. In the last minute it had suddenly begun to feel a lot heavier. He crossed the room and sat next to Holly, resting his back up against the cyclone fence.

'How are you doing?' he asked softly.

She didn't answer.

'Holly? What's up?'

Still no answer. Holly was staring vacantly straight ahead.

'Come on, Hol, what is it? Did I do something?' he waited for a response.

This was not unusual. Holly would often refuse to talk to him when she felt rejected or left out or just plain stubborn.

'Holly, please, we don't have time for this now,' Swain shook his head in exasperation.

Holly spoke, 'Daddy.'

'Yes.'

'Be very quiet, Daddy. Be very, very quiet.'

'Why--?'

'Shh.'

Swain went mute. The others had sat down over near Balthazar, beneath the high windows. Everyone sat in complete silence for ten seconds. Holly leaned over to Swain's ear.

'Do you hear it?' she whispered.

'No.'

'Listen.'

Swain looked at Holly. She was sitting dead still, her eyes wide open, her head set rigidly upright, backed up against the cyclone fence. She looked frightened. Frightened out of her mind. She spoke again.

'Okay Daddy, get ready. Listen... now.'

And then he heard it.

The sound was barely audible, but it was unmistakable. A long, slow inhalation.

Something breathing.

Something not very far away.

Suddenly, there was a snorting sound, like the soft grunting of a pig. It was followed by a shuffling sound.

Then the inhalation came again.

It was slow and rhythmic, like the breathing of someone sleeping.

Selexin heard it, too.

At the grunting sound, his head snapped up immediately. He scrambled silently on all fours across the concrete floor to Swain.

'We have to get out,' he hissed in Swain's ear. 'We have to get out now.'

The inhalation came again.

'It's in here,' Selexin said. 'Quickly, give me your wrist.'

Swain offered his wristband for Selexin to see.

The green light was still on.

'Phew,' Selexin breathed.

'It?' Swain asked. 'What is it?'

'It's behind us, Daddy,' Holly hissed, her body frozen.

'Oh, Jesus Christ...' Hawkins gasped, getting to his feet on the other side of the room. He was looking through the cyclone fence. 'I think it's time to get the hell out of here.'

The inhalation came again, louder this time.

And then slowly, ever so slowly, Stephen Swain turned around.

It was over by the far corner of the cage, under some shelves mounted high up on the wall. In the dark it looked like just another large mound of equipment covered in a tarp.

Only it was moving.

Slowly and steadily.

Rhythmically rising and falling, in time with the deep inhalations.

Swain's eyes followed the outline of the 'mound'. It was big. In the dim light of the storage room he could just make out long spiky bristles on top of an arched back--

There was a loud grunt.

Then the whole mound rolled over onto its side and the deep inhalations resumed.

Selexin was tugging on Swain's shirt. 'Let's go! Let's go!'

Swain rose to his feet, plucked Holly from the floor, headed for the door. He was reaching for the door's handle when he heard a soft, insistent beeping.

It was coming from his wristband. The little green light was flashing.

Selexin's eyes went wide with horror.

'It's waking up! Get out!' he screamed. 'Get out now!'

He barged past Hawkins, hauled open the door, pushed Swain through it, screaming, 'Out! Out! Out!'

Swain and Holly were out in the empty study hall again. Hawkins emerged from the janitor's room with Balthazar over his shoulder, the other guide close behind.

Selexin was already charging in amongst the L-shaped desks of the study hall. 'Don't stop! Don't stop! Keep moving, we have to get as far away from here as possible!'

Swain followed with Holly in his arms -- weaving quickly between the desks, away from the janitor's room -- the others close in tow.

Up ahead, Selexin was darting between the desks, constantly looking back to see if Swain was still with him.

'The band! The band! Look at your wristband!' he called.

Swain looked down at the wristband. It was beeping horribly loudly now, and quicker, too.

And then he stopped.

The green light on the wristband had gone out.

Now the red one was on.

And it was flashing rapidly.

'Uh-oh.'

Hawkins caught up with them. He was panting, desperately. 'What is it?'

'We're about to be in for some serious trouble,' Swain said.

At that moment the heavy hydraulic door to the janitor's room exploded from its hinges and flew out into the study hall, landing with a deafening bang!, crushing several desks.

It was followed by a blood-curdling roar that boomed out from within the janitor's room.

'Oh, man,' Hawkins breathed.

'Let's move!' Swain took off, winding through the maze of desks, heading for the stairwell in the opposite corner of the room.

He was glancing over his shoulder when it emerged from the janitor's room.

It was huge.

Absolutely huge. It had to double over just to fit through the wide doorway that no longer had a door.

Selexin saw it, too. 'It's the Karanadon!'

They were halfway across the wide study hall, crossing it diagonally, when the Karanadon cleared the doorway and rose to its full height, almost touching the ceiling.

Swain pressed on, carrying Holly toward the stairwell. Hawkins was losing ground behind him, weighed down by Balthazar. Last of all was Balthazar's guide -- pushing and shoving -- trying desperately to get Hawkins and Balthazar to move faster, constantly looking behind him, to see if the Karanadon was coming after them.

Swain glanced over his shoulder again to get another look at the fearsome beast.

It continued to stand by the door to the janitor's room, watching them.

It hadn't moved yet.

It just stood there.

Despite the noise they were making as they scrambled in a panic through the desks for the stairwell, it just stood in front of the doorway in silence.

Swain rounded another desk. Twenty yards to the stairwell. He looked back again.

Christ, it was big all right -- at least fourteen feet tall.

It had the body of an enormous, hairy, broad-shouldered gorilla -- all black, hunched forward, with a series of long spiky bristles that flowed over its high arched back. Long muscular arms hung down from its massive shoulders so that the knuckles dragged on the ground.

The head was two-and-a-half feet long, and it reminded Swain of a jackal. High pointed ears. Black, lifeless eyes. And menacing canine fangs that protruded from a dark wrinkled snout, frozen in an eternal snarl.

It moved.

The Karanadon leapt forward and bounded after them at frightening speed. It stomped on the fallen hydraulic door, cracking it in the middle, breaking it in two.

Swain tightened his grip on Holly and bolted for the stairwell. Hawkins struggled to pull Balthazar forward. Balthazar's guide was looking frantically behind them, pounding on Hawkins' back, screaming for him to move faster.

The Karanadon ploughed through the L-shaped desks like an icebreaker through a frozen sea, hurling them in all directions, crushing them under its feet. When they happened to hit the ground, the big beast's footsteps sounded like cannon fire.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Swain and the others continued to weave in and out between the desks. The Karanadon kept coming in a straight line.

Selexin was at the stairwell, Swain ten yards away. He checked behind him.

Hawkins, Balthazar and the other guide were not going to make it. The Karanadon was closing in on them too quickly.

Better think fast, Steve.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

He let Holly drop to the floor and quickly scanned the wide study hall.

It was roughly square in shape. He and Holly were almost at the stairwell, on the western side of the floor. The janitor's room was roughly opposite them, on the north-eastern corner of the floor. On the south-eastern corner were the elevators.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

'Move faster!' Balthazar's guide was screaming at Hawkins. 'For God's sake, it's getting closer!'

The Karanadon crunched through another desk.

And then Swain pushed Holly away from the stairwell, toward the elevators. 'Let's go, honey. We're gonna make a run for the elevators.' He called to Selexin at the stairwell door. 'This way! We're going this way!'

Boom. Boom. Boom.

' That way!' Selexin screamed back. 'What about the stairs!'

'Will you just do it, okay!'

The Karanadon was right on top of the others now.

It lunged at Balthazar's guide, swiping at him with one of its long arms. The guide ducked and the massive claw swished over his head and smashed into a nearby desk. The desk shattered and Balthazar's guide stumbled forward, tripping over Hawkins' legs, sending all three of them -- the guide, Hawkins and Balthazar -- sprawling forward.

Hawkins hit the ground hard, landing heavily on his shoulder. Balthazar fell on top of him. His guide landed helplessly at their feet.

Boom.

There was a sudden, terrifying silence.

The Karanadon had stopped.

Hawkins was sweating profusely. He wriggled desperately, tried to pull himself to his feet, but his right arm was jammed beneath Balthazar. His left wasn't even responding, the shoulder dislocated by the fall.

Down near his feet he saw the little guide frantically clutching at his trouser leg, trying desperately to stand up.

'Help me! Help me?' the guide pleaded, petrified.

And then suddenly--violently -- the guide was sucked from Hawkins' view.

Over by the wall, Swain watched in horror as his three companions fell below the deskline.

The Karanadon had stopped a few feet short of them. Then it had bent down behind the desks, out of view. When it reappeared, it had the distinctive white shape of Balthazar's guide in one of its massive black claws.

The guide was waving his arms wildly, screaming at the monster. The Karanadon pulled him up to its snout and curiously examined the noisy little creature it had found.

And then, one-handed, the Karanadon held the guide out at arm's length and viciously slashed across the front of his body with its free claw.

Swain's jaw dropped.

Hawkins' eyes went wide with terror.

Three deep slits of red exploded across the guide's chest. One slashing tear sliced across his mouth. The guide's body went instantly limp.

The room was suddenly silent.

The Karanadon shook the body once. It didn't respond. The big beast shook the lifeless body again -- like a toy that didn't work anymore -- and then flung it away.

Swain still couldn't see Hawkins.

He ducked down to look through the legs of the desks -- and he saw him. Hawkins was lying flat on the floor, wedged underneath Balthazar, unable to move, but trying anyway.

Christ, he had to do something for him...

Boom.

Hawkins was struggling to free himself when he felt the floor shake beneath him. He froze, and then slowly turned to look upward.

And saw the massive jaws of the Karanadon, wide open, rushing down at him.

He shut his eyes. It was too--

'Hey!'

The Karanadon's head snapped up instantly.

'Yeah, that's right, I'm talking to you!'

Hawkins opened his eyes. What the hell--?

The Karanadon slowly turned to face Swain. It cocked its head curiously, staring at this bold creature that had dared to interrupt its kill.

Swain was waving his arms, yelling angrily at the fourteen-foot-tall beast that stood barely fifteen yards away from him.

'Yeah, get up! It's okay!' Swain barked, his face twisted in a fierce growl, never taking his eyes off the monster before him.

He raised his voice. It was angry, challenging. 'Move! I've got it covered! It's looking at me now! Get up and go for the stairwell!' It was like talking to a dog -- the beast heard the intonations, but made no sense of the words.

Hawkins suddenly realised what was happening --

Swain was talking to him. Immediately, he began struggling again to shift Balthazar off him. In a few seconds, he got him off, and began to drag him across the floor, away from the Karanadon while Swain kept it occupied.

The Karanadon seemed dumbstruck by this challenging display. It roared fiercely at Swain.

'Oh, yeah! Well... well, fuck you, too!' Swain yelled back.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Holly and Selexin reach the elevators over by the southern wall. In the other direction, he saw Hawkins and Balthazar reach the stairwell.

Unfortunately, the Karanadon was still staring straight at him, totally exposed, halfway between the elevators and the stairs.

Shit. What could he do now? Nice going, Steve.

Boom.

The Karanadon took a slow step toward him.

Boom. Boom.

Two more and suddenly the gap was seven feet. Almost within striking distance.

'Hey!'

The Karanadon's head snapped left, toward Selexin and Holly by the elevator.

'Yes! That is right! I am talking to you!' Selexin yelled.

The big creature took a step toward the elevators, growling. It roared.

Selexin braced himself, pointed a finger, and yelled, 'Oh, yeah, well fuck you, too!'

Swain coughed back a laugh.

The Karanadon roared in outrage and stepped away from Swain, heading for the elevators. It was gaining speed when a third voice called loudly.

'Hey!'

The Karanadon stopped in its tracks a third time.

'Yeah, you!' It was Hawkins.

Swain swung his head back and forth between the elevators and the stairwell, amazed.

Now totally confused, the Karanadon swung to face Hawkins at the stairwell. Swain took the chance and ran for the elevator. When he got there, he pressed the call button.

Hawkins was waving wildly at the Karanadon as it approached. When it got to within fifteen feet of him, Swain took over and called again from the elevators.

'Hello there! Hey, buddy! What about me!'

The Karanadon swung around slowly.

It snorted.

Boom.

Swain looked up at the numbered display above the left-hand elevator. The elevator was moving from '1' to 'G'. It was going down. What the hell? The right-hand elevator -- with its inwardly dented doors and last seen by Swain stopped halfway between the First and Ground Floors -- didn't seem to be operating at all.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

'Hey!' Hawkins called again. But this time, the beast didn't respond. It kept moving toward Swain and the elevators.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

'Hey!' Hawkins yelled. The Karanadon didn't stop. It just kept ploughing forward, toward the elevators.

'We have got trouble,' Selexin said flatly.

'We've got deep trouble,' Swain agreed.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

Swain spun around. Options, options. There were none. He checked the numbers above the elevators. Left -- still on the Ground Floor. Right -- still no movement at all.

He stared at the elevators for a second and suddenly had an idea.

'Quickly,' he said, moving over to the right-hand elevator. 'Selexin, Holly, you two grab the other side of this door and pull. We've got to get it open.'

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The Karanadon was closing in -- getting faster and faster as it got closer and closer.

The elevator doors slowly came apart. 'Keep pulling,' Swain said. The black elevator shaft opened wide before him.

Boom.

'That's it,' Swain said, easing in between the doors-spreading his legs, holding them apart -- while still facing the study hall. The dark elevator shaft yawned wide behind him.

It was then that Swain noticed the silence. No more booming footfalls.

The Karanadon had stopped.

Slowly, ever so slightly, Swain lifted his head.

It was right there!

Five feet away.

And it just stood there, looming over the three of them, its enormous black frame dwarfing them all. It tilted its head and glared down at Swain. One of its long pointed ears twitched.

'Holly, Selexin,' Swain whispered, without moving his mouth, 'I want both of you to grab hold of my legs. One each. Right now.'

'Daddy...' Holly whimpered.

'Just grab my leg, honey.'

There was a scratching sound, and Swain saw that it was the big beast's claws scraping against the marble floor as it flexed its huge black fists.

Getting ready to attack.

Holly clasped onto Swain's left leg. Selexin took the right.

'Hold tight,' Swain said, taking a deep breath as the Karanadon lifted its arm high.

The arm came down fast -- but not fast enough. It hit nothing but air as Swain shifted his weight backwards and jumped into the darkness of the elevator shaft.

----ooo0ooo------

The elevator cable was greasy, but his grip held.

There were three vertical cables, so Swain held the middle one. Behind him, the elevator doors had shut automatically as soon as he had stopped holding them apart.

The elevator shaft was pitch black and deathly silent. If the Karanadon was roaring, they couldn't hear it in here.

'Selexin,' Swain said, his voice echoing loudly in the empty shaft. 'Grab hold of the cable.'

Selexin reached out from Swain's leg and caught hold of the elevator cable.

'All right now, slide down. Down to the elevator.'

Selexin slid down the cable, disappearing into the murky darkness of the shaft.

'Holly, you okay?'

'Yeah.' A whimper.

'All right, then, it's your turn now. Just reach out and grab the cable.'

'O-kay.'

Her hand shaking, Holly reached for the cable. Her fingers hesitated for an eternity just short of the greasy metal rope. She grabbed it.

And then suddenly the elevator doors burst open.

Soft blue light streamed into the elevator shaft, silhouetting the monstrous shape of the Karanadon as it held the doors apart.

It was only a few feet away and Swain was completely exposed, holding onto the elevator cable for dear life, with Holly dangling from his leg.

It roared loudly, leaning out into the shaft, swiping viciously at Swain, only to see him loosen his grip on the cable and drop out of the way a second ahead of the impact.

. Swain fell like a stone, whizzing down the greasy cable into the darkness, with Holly hanging from his left leg.

They slid down the cable fast, the grease on the cable preventing Swain's hands from burning, and arrived at the roof of the right-hand elevator. Selexin was there waiting.

The elevator's hatch was still open and the light inside it still on. The lift was exactly where they had left it before, when Swain, Balthazar and the two guides had climbed across to meet Hawkins and Holly in the other one.

'Let's get inside, and see if we can get to another floor,' Swain said, grabbing Holly's hand and lowering her into the elevator. Selexin climbed in next. Swain jumped down last of all.

In the light of the elevator Swain could see how filthy they had become. The black grease from the cable covered their clothes. He felt his cheek. The bleeding had stopped.

'Where do we go now?' Selexin asked.

'I think we should go home, Daddy,' Holly suggested.

'Good idea,' Swain said.

Selexin said, 'Well, we had better figure out somethi--'

Suddenly, the elevator jolted and they were all thrown sideways.

'Oh my God,' Swain said, 'the cable!'

The elevator rocked violently, hurling them all to the ground. A loud creaking sound echoed throughout the shaft.

'It's got the cable!'

The elevator swayed dramatically and Selexin was thrown bodily into the side wall, hitting his head, falling to the floor in a heap. Swain tried to fight his way across the swaying lift to reach the button panel, but was jolted backwards. The back of his head banged into one of the elevator's doors, and for a second, he saw spots. The whole elevator groaned again at the tremendous strain being put on the cable.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, the rocking stopped and the elevator was still once more.

Holly was curled up in the corner, vigorously sucking her thumb. Selexin was out cold, face down on the floor. Swain staggered across the lift, rubbing the back of his head, looked up through the hatch.

He had just walked under the open hatch when he felt the elevator move again. Another jolt. But not like the previous ones. It was not as sharp, somehow different.

The elevator swayed again and Swain felt his knees buckle.

And then he realised.

They were going up.

It was lifting them up the shaft!

'Okay,' he said to himself, 'how the hell are we going to get out of this one?'

The lift continued upward, scraping loudly against the metal lining of the shaft.

Swain looked up through the hatch and could just make out the big arms of the Karanadon heaving on the elevator cable, hauling on it hand over hand, claw over claw.

The lift kept rising, moving higher into the shaft.

There's got to be a way out, he thought, got to be.

The Karanadon roared. They were close now, maybe a floor away. The hatch was still open. The Karanadon was glaring down at the elevator with animal fury as it heaved and pulled on the cables.

The cables, Swain thought.

He pondered the idea for a second. It was dangerous, yes. But it could work. At the moment it didn't look like he had much choice. He shrugged. Hell, anything was better than nothing.

He looked back at Holly. She was slumped in the corner of the lift, still sucking her thumb.

Yes. It could work.

It had to.

And with that, Stephen Swain reached up and climbed out through the hatch, up onto the roof of the elevator.

The study hall was closer than he thought.

They were about seven feet below the Third Floor doors where the Karanadon stood -- and the lift was still moving upward.

The Karanadon saw him. And stopped.

Swain just stood there, on top of the elevator, staring at the beast.

Suddenly the Karanadon lashed out, swiping at him with its spare claw. Swain stepped back, out of reach. The beast swung again, missed again.

'Come on!' Swain yelled. 'You can do better than that!'

The big beast roared in frustration and lashed out at him again, harder this time, missing Swain, but hitting one of the cables.

The cable snapped like a thread and the elevator lurched. But the Karanadon was still holding it up.

With one hand!

The big beast swung again, and Swain dived to his left. It missed, and cable number two snapped.

One more, Swain told himself. One more, and we're out of here.

This was getting to be too much for the Karanadon. It roared again in animal anger, like a dog barking at a cat that it will never catch.

'Come on, big boy,' Swain teased. 'One last swipe, and then you can get me the hell out of here.'

It was then that the Karanadon raised its arm one final time.

But it didn't swing.

It jumped.

Onto the roof of the elevator!

Swain didn't have time for disbelief. The elevator just plummeted straight down!

A piercing metal-on-metal screech attacked Swain's ears as the elevator descended in a freefall down the shaft. Wind whipped all around him as sparks flew out from every corner of the falling elevator.

The big beast stood on the other side of the roof oblivious to what it had done. It glared at Swain.

What sort of stupid creature jumps onto an elevator that it's holding up? Swain's mind screamed.

But Swain didn't have time to think about that now. He dived for the hatch, fell through it, landed heavily on the floor of the elevator.

'Get down!' he called to Holly, above the wail of the falling elevator. 'Get down on the floor! Flat on the floor! Rest your head on your arms!'

The elevator screamed down the shaft.

Holly did exactly as she was told, lay flat on the floor. Swain scrambled alongside her, covering her with one arm, and did the same -- lay flat on his belly, spreading his legs wide, burying his head in his other forearm, using it as a cushion.

The last of the cables must have broken by now, he thought as he lay on the floor, waiting for the bone-jarring crash that would come any second now.

The Karanadon poked its huge head through the small hatch -- upside-down. It wanted to get inside, but it would never fit.

The elevator roared down the shaft, sparks flying from all sides, its high-pitched wail getting higher and higher and higher.

And then it hit the bottom.

----ooo0ooo------

The impact was stunning.

Swain felt his whole body shudder violently as the elevator went from thirty-five miles an hour to zero in a split second.

The muscles on his forearms cushioned his head. And his body, since it was already flush against the floor, stifled most of the force of the impact.

The same happened with Holly. Swain hoped Selexin was all right, since he had already been on the floor, knocked out.

As the elevator hit the bottom of the shaft with a horrendous bang!, the roof beneath the Karanadon gave way and the big beast burst right through it, crashing to the floor of the elevator, landing heavily on its back -- right next to Swain -- in a cloud of dust and shattered plastic.

A minute passed.

Slowly, Swain lifted his head.

The first thing he saw was the dark wrinkled snout and the enormous white fangs of the Karanadon, right in front of his eyes.

He started. But the beast did not move.

Swain quickly looked at his wristband and sighed. The green light was back on. The Karanadon was out cold.

He lifted his body and all sorts of debris fell from his back onto the floor. Half the roof of the old, wide elevator had fallen in under the weight of the big beast, and pieces of the ceiling and shards of fluorescent light bulbs lay strewn all over the elevator.

Christ, he thought, it looked as if a bomb had gone off here: white dust floating through the air, the roof caved in, half the lights flickering, the other half destroyed beyond recognition.

Swain stood up. He touched the large bruise that was forming on the back of his head. His lower back ached from the thunderous impact. He lifted his arm off Holly.

'Holly?' he said, quietly. 'Are you okay?'

She stirred gently, as if coming out of a deep, painful sleep.

'Wha... what?'

Swain shut his eyes in relief and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

'Are we there yet, Daddy?' she whimpered, her head still buried in her forearms.

'Yes, honey, we're here,' he smiled.

Across the lift, Selexin groaned. He slowly raised his head and stared, unfocused, at Swain. Then he looked across the lift at the limp -- but live -- body of the Karanadon.

'Oh my goodness...'

'Tell me about it,' Swain said dryly.

'Where are we?'

'We're at the bottom of the shaft, I guess. We took the quick trip down.'

'Oh,' Selexin said absently.

He didn't seem too worried about anything right now, and for that matter, neither did Swain. He figured they could stay here for a while. The Karanadon wouldn't be waking up in the very near future, and no-one would be able to find them here.

He sat up, gently placing his daughter's head in his lap, and leaned up against the wall of the semi-destroyed elevator and smiled sadly at the destruction all around him.

----ooo0ooo------

Bob Charlton stopped his Chevy at a red light and dialled his office. It had barely rung once when Rudy answered. 'Robert Charlton's phone.'

'Rudy?' Charlton said.

'Yes, sir. Where are you?

'At the moment, stuck in downtown traffic. I'm on my way. I'll be back in about five minutes.'

At the other end of the line, Rudy Baker paused, and glanced nervously around Charlton's office.

'Okay, sir,' he said. 'Is there anything you want me to do in the meantime? Look up something for you?'

Charlton's voice said, 'Good idea, yes. While you're waiting, check the computer. See if the New York State Library was linked up with the main when we did that National Register of Historic Places thing a few months back. If it was, run down to Records and pull the plans. Get the blueprints and see if you can find out where the damn booster valve is.'

'Uh... okay, sure,' he hesitated again.

'What is it, son?' Charlton said. 'Something wrong down there?

'No, sir. Not here,' Rudy lied. 'I'll see you when you get back.'

'All right then.' Charlton hung up.

In the office, Rudy leaned forward and switched off the speakerphone.

'Well done, son,' a voice behind him said. 'Now, why don't you just take a seat with the rest of us, and we can all wait here together until your boss comes back.'

Charlton hurried out of the elevator and walked quickly down the hallway to his office.

He looked at his watch.

It was 7:55 p.m.

He hoped that Rudy had got those files on the State Library. If he had, with a bit of luck they might be able to have the main up and running again by midnight.

Charlton charged into his office and stopped instantly.

Rudy was sitting in the chair behind Charlton's desk. He looked up helplessly.

Five other men, all dressed in dark suits, sat in a neat row in front of the desk.

As Charlton walked in, one of the men stood up and walked over to him. He was short and stocky, with red hair and a big orange walrus-style moustache.

'Mr Charlton, Special Agent John Levine,' he flashed his wallet, revealing a photo ID. 'I'm from the National Security Agency.'

Charlton examined the ID card. He wondered what the NSA would want with Con Ed.

'What seems to be the problem, Mr Levine?'

'Oh, there's no problem,' Levine said quickly.

'Then what can I do for you?' Charlton's eyes wandered warily around his office, scanning the four other men seated there.

They were all big men, broad-shouldered. Two wore sunglasses even though it was nearly eight in the evening. They were very intimidating.

'Please, Mr Charlton, take a seat. We just came by to ask you a few questions about your inquiry into the New York State Library.'

'I'm not looking at the Library itself,' Charlton said, sitting down in a spare chair. Levine sat opposite him. 'I'm just looking for a break in our main electrical line. We've had quite a few calls from that area, complaints about the power cutting out on people.'

Levine nodded. 'Uh-huh. So. Apart from being in the same area, what is the connection between these complaints and the State Library?'

'Well,' Charlton said, 'the Library is on the National Register of Historic Places, you know, one of those lists of old buildings that aren't allowed to be demolished.'

'I know it.'

'Anyway, we linked a few of them up to the main a few months back, and we've found that when they go down, sometimes they take the whole damn system with them.'

Levine nodded again. 'So why have you begun to focus on this building? Surely there are others in the area that deserve similar attention?'

'Mr Levine, I've been doing this sort of thing for ten years now and when you get a break in the main it can mean a shitload of problems. And that means you have to check everything. Every possibility. Sometimes it's kids hacking at the cables with daddy's chainsaw, sometimes it's just an overload. I've always found it prudent to go down and check with the police and see if they've pulled in someone from that area lately.'

'You went to the police?' Levine raised an eyebrow.

'Yes.'

'And did you find anything?'

'Yes, I did. In fact, it was the police who put me on to the Library in the first place.'

'If you don't mind me asking,' Levine said, 'which police station was this?'

'14th Precinct,' Charlton said.

'And what did they tell you?'

'They told me they picked up a small-time computer thief in the State Library last night, in relation to the murder of a security guard. I saw the fellow, too--'

'A murdered security guard?' Levine leaned forward.

'Yes.'

'A guard from the State Library?'

'Yes.'

'And the police said he was killed last night?'

'That's right. Last night,' Charlton said. 'They found the thief right next to him, covered from head to toe in the guard's blood.'

Levine looked around at his fellow agents. Then he said, 'Do they think the thief did it?'

'No. He was just a scrawny little guy. But they think he must have stumbled upon the guys who did. Then they roughed him up. Something like that.'

Levine stopped for a moment, deep in thought.

Then he asked very seriously, 'Have the police put any men inside the building? Inside the library?'

'The detective I spoke to said they have two officers down there right now,' Charlton said. 'You know, baby-sitting the building overnight, until some site team can go in tomorrow.'

'So there are police officers inside that building right now?'

'That's what they told me.'

At that, Levine turned to his men and nodded at the nearest one, who stood immediately.

'14th Precinct,' Levine said to him. He glanced back at Bob Charlton. 'Mr Charlton, can you remember the name of the detective to whom you spoke?'

'Yes. Captain Henry Dickson.'

Levine just turned to the standing agent and nodded curtly. The agent didn't reply. He just ran straight from the room.

Levine faced Charlton again. 'Mr Charlton, you have been very helpful. I thank you for your co-operation.'

'Not at all,' Charlton said, rising from his chair. 'If that's everything, gentlemen, I have a main to fix, so if you'll excuse me, I've got to go and check out that library--'

Levine stood, placed his hand on Charlton's chest, stopping him.

'I'm sorry, Mr Charlton, but I'm afraid your inquiry into the New York State Library stops here.'

'What?'

Levine spoke calmly. 'This is no longer a matter for you or your company, Mr Charlton. The National Security Agency will take care of it from here.'

'But what about the main?' Charlton objected. 'Or the electricity? I have to get it back on.'

'It can wait.'

'Bullshit, it can wait.' Charlton stepped forward angrily.

'Sit down, Mr Charlton.'

'No, I will not sit down. This is a serious problem, Mr Levine,' Charlton paused. 'I'd like to speak with your superior.'

'Sit down, Mr Charlton.' Levine said, a new authority in his voice. Immediately, two agents appeared at Charlton's sides. They didn't touch him, just stood by his shoulders.

Charlton sat, frowning.

Levine said, 'All I will tell you is this, Mr Charlton. In the last two hours, that library has become the focus of a major NSA investigation. An investigation that will not be stopped because one hundred and eighty-seven New Yorkers won't be able to watch Friends for one night.'

Charlton just sat there, silent. Levine walked over to the doorway.

'Your inquiry is concluded, Mr Charlton. You will be advised as to when you may proceed.' Levine stepped through the doorway, taking one agent with him, leaving Charlton in the office with Rudy and the other two agents.

Charlton couldn't believe it. 'What? You're keeping me here? You can't do that!'

Levine stopped in the doorway. 'Oh yes I can, Mr Charlton, and I will. Under Federal law, it is within the power of an investigating officer to detain anyone concerned in a matter of national security for the duration of that investigation. You will remain here, Mr Charlton, with your assistant, under supervision, until this investigation is substantially concluded. Thank you for your co-operation.'

Down the hall, Levine stepped into the elevator and pulled out his cellular phone.

'Marshall, here,' a crackled voice said at the other end. There was a lot of static on the line.

'Sir, it's me, Levine.'

'Yes, John, what is it? How did it go?'

'Good and bad, sir.'

'Tell me the good news first,'

Levine said, 'It's definitely the State Library.'

A pause, then, 'Yes.'

'And we got to Charlton just in time. He was just about to go there.'

'Good.'

Levine paused, nervously fingering his red walrus moustache.

Marshall's voice said, 'And the bad news?'

Levine bit his lip. 'We had to detain him.'

There was silence on the other end of the line.

'There was no choice, Mr Marshall. We had to keep him away from the library.'

The man named Marshall seemed to be thinking it over. Finally he spoke, as if to himself. 'No. No. That's okay. Charlton will be all right. Besides, if this thing comes off, any flak the Agency gets from him will be water off a duck's back. What else?'

Levine held his breath. 'There are two cops inside the building.'

'Inside?'

'Yes.'

'Oh, fuck,' Marshall's voice said. 'That is a problem.'

Levine waited in silence. The phone hissed With static. Marshall lapsed into thought again. When he spoke, his voice was soft, deliberate.

'We'll have to take them with us.'

'The cops? Can we do that?'

Marshall said, 'They're contaminated. It doesn't look like we have much choice.'

Levine said, 'What do you want me to do now?'

'Get over to the library and, for the moment, stay out of sight. The boys from Sigma will be there shortly,' Marshall said. 'I'll be landing in a couple of minutes. There's a car waiting on the runway, so I'll be there in about thirty minutes.'

'Yes, sir.'

Levine hung up.

----ooo0ooo------

James A. Marshall sat in the executive compartment of the National Security Agency's Director's Lear as it began its descent into Newark.

As the Divisional Agent in Charge of the NSA's ultra-secret Sigma Division, Marshall was officially based in Maryland, but lately he found that he was spending most of his time out in the western states, New Mexico and Nevada.

Marshall was a tall man of fifty-two, mostly bald, with a white-grey beard and hawk-like black eyebrows that narrowed at his nose, giving him a perpetual look of deadly seriousness. He had been in charge of Sigma Division -- the NSA's elite high technology discovery division -- for six years now.

Back in the seventies and eighties, the NSA had been the US intelligence community's pride and joy, electronically compressing billions of encryption algorithms that were to become the foundation of its world-renowned code-breaking computers. Then, in the early nineties, Sigma added to this lustre when it utilised semiconductor technology to make the greatest breakthrough in the history of code making and breaking -- it successfully created the world's first quantum computer.

But with the subsequent thawing of the Cold War, code-cracking began to assume a lesser priority in the eyes of the government. Budgets were cut. Money was diverted to other sectors of the intelligence community and the military. The NSA had to find something new to excel in -- something that would justify its continued existence. Otherwise it would almost certainly get folded into the Army.

James Marshall and Sigma Division were tasked with finding this new expertise.

Within weeks, Sigma's resources were focused upon a new and remarkably different goal. Only this was a goal that did not require the creation of new technology, but which rather was centred on the search for, discovery of, and deciphering of, a very special kind of technology.

Highly advanced technology.

Technology that man himself could not create.

But technology which the NSA -- and the NSA alone, with its new quantum supercomputers -- would be in a unique position to decipher and exploit.

Extra-terrestrial technology.

Marshall took it all with a grain of salt. Sure, the Air Force had built underground warehouses in New Mexico and Nevada. But despite the reports of television specials asserting that they had in fact found, captured and studied alien spacecraft and lifeforms -- one such special even suggested that the technology behind the Stealth Bomber came from such studies -- those warehouses had remained irrefutably and unequivocally empty.

In short, the Air Force had found nothing. And in the ever-competitive quest for budget dollars, that provided the NSA with an opportunity...

Like tonight, Marshall thought.

And as his plane made its descent, he looked at the printout in his lap for the hundredth time.

Two hours ago, at 6:01 p.m. Eastern Standard Time, an NSA satellite, LandSat 5, during a random sweep over the north-eastern tip of America, detected and quantified an unusually large electronic displacement that seemed to be emanating from Manhattan Island.

The displacement had not been present during any previous sweeps, and its amperage was dangerously similar to that of previously recorded electronic scrambling -- or jamming -- frequencies used by North African guerilla forces, in particular those used by Libya.

And after the bombing of the World Trade Centre in 1993 by North African extremists and the destruction of two American embassies in Africa in 1998, no-one in the NSA was willing to take any chances.

The response was immediate.

The LandSat 5 results were bounced immediately to NSA headquarters at Fort Meade, Maryland. A KH-11E counter-intelligence electronic surveillance satellite -- more commonly known by its call-sign 'Eavesdropper' -- was sequestered from the National Reconnaissance Office, and retasked so that it would pass over New York.

By chance, the Eavesdropper happened to be in the right place at the right time and was on the scene in minutes, and the first set of results were soon in the hands of the NSA's crisis management team in Maryland -- a team that had included Marshall.

Once those results had been reviewed, in the space of nine minutes all records of correspondence between satellite control in Maryland, LandSat 5 and the Eavesdropper had been destroyed.

LandSat 5 was retasked for immediate splashdown somewhere in the Pacific Ocean, while the Eavesdropper continued to monitor the Manhattan area with every pass.

It was then that the mission had been handed to James Marshall and his boys at Sigma Division.

Time was short, and Marshall had wasted no time.

He had raced to the airport immediately and as he stepped onto the Director's Lear, someone at Sigma was already preparing a press release that would explain the unfortunate and regrettable loss of the two satellites.

And so here he was. On the NSA Director's Lear ready for touchdown in New York.

Marshall reached into his suitcase for a final look at the report from the Eavesdropper.

Judging by the long stretch of time covered in the report, Marshall noted, the Eavesdropper could hold its field of view on a single target for a full fifty minutes. Its orbital velocity must have been much slower than that of the smaller LandSat 5.

Marshall read the transcript.

LSAT-560467-S

DATA TRANSCRIPT 463/511-001

SUBJECT SITE: 231.957 (North-eastern seaboard: CT, NY, NJ)

NO. TIME/EST LOCATION READING

1. 18:03:48 CT. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:09

2. 18:03:58 N.Y. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:06

3. 18:07:31 N.Y. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:05

4. 18:10:09 N.Y. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:07

5. 18:14:12 N.Y. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:06

6. 18:14:37 N.Y. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:02

7. 18:14:38 N.Y. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:02

8. 18:14:39 N.Y. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:02

9. 18:14:40 N.Y. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:02

10. 18:16:23 N.Y. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:07

11. 18:20:21 N.Y. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:08

12. 18:23:57 N.Y. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:06

13. 18:46:00 N.Y. Isolated energy surge/Source: UNKNOWN

Type: UNKNOWN / Dur: 0.00:34

Marshall frowned at the transcript.

At the moment it meant nothing to him.

Twelve strong surges of some unknown kind of energy -- the sources of which were also unknown -- had all occurred in New York City between 6:03 and 6:46 p.m.

Added to that, the first surge, which had come from somewhere inside Connecticut. Curious also was the last surge -- distinctive because it had lasted thirty-four seconds, more than three times longer than any of the others. Not to mention the four consecutive two-second surges that Marshall had underlined.

What it amounted to was a puzzle, a puzzle Marshall wanted to solve.

And Levine's news was good. The taps on Con Edison's phones had been worthwhile, if not altogether legal. The theory that large energy surges would affect local electricity systems had turned out to be correct.

Robert Charlton had led them right to the source of the energy surges.

The New York State Library.

Now they had the location. And they were going to get whatever was there.

James Marshall grinned at the thought as his Lear hit the tarmac at Newark.

----ooo0ooo------

Hawkins lowered Balthazar to the floor, resting him up against the concrete wall of the janitor's room. Then he himself collapsed, breathless, alongside the big bearded man.

'You're one heavy bastard, you know that?'

The janitor's room was a complete mess. The cyclone fence cutting across the middle of the room had been crumpled by the Karanadon. The splintered remains of smashed wooden boxes lay strewn everywhere. And without the big hydraulic door, the doorway was nothing more than a gaping hole in the wall.

Hawkins glanced at Balthazar by his side. He wasn't looking good. Eyes still badly bloodshot. A red rash forming on the surrounding skin. Bubbles of saliva still running through his bushy beard.

Balthazar groaned, and then as if testing himself, he put a hand to the floor to get up, but immediately fell awkwardly back against the wall.

They would have to hole up here for a while. But first, Hawkins thought, he had to do something about that doorway.

At last, Selexin got up and walked across the elevator and stared at the massive body of the unconscious Karanadon. He bent down and peered at the long white fangs that protruded from the jet-black snout.

He made a face of pure disgust. 'Hideous,' he said. 'Truly hideous.'

Swain was holding Holly in his lap. She had gone to sleep quickly, complaining of a terrible headache. 'Yeah, not too bright, either,' he said. 'Have you ever seen one before? Up close?'

'No. Never.'

Swain nodded and they both just stared at the gigantic black beast in silence. Then he said, 'So what do we do? Do we kill it? Can we kill it?'

'I do not know,' Selexin shrugged. 'No-one has ever done this before.'

Swain offered a crooked smile and spread his hands. 'What can I say?'

Selexin frowned, not comprehending. 'I am sorry, but I am afraid I do not understand. What exactly can you say?'

'Don't worry. It's just a saying.'

'Oh.'

'Yeah,' Swain said, 'like "Fuck you".'

Selexin blushed. 'Oh, yes. That. Well, I had to say something. My life was in the balance too, you know.'

'Hell of a thing to say to something like that,' Swain nodded at the Karanadon.

'Oh, well...'

'But it was pretty bold. And I needed it. Thanks.'

'Think nothing of it.'

'Well, thanks anyway,' Swain said. 'By the way, are you allowed to do that? Allowed to help me?'

'Well,' Selexin said, 'technically, no. I am not supposed to help you physically in any battle -- whether against another contestant or the Karanadon. But considering what Bellos has done by bringing hoods into the Presidian, then, to use another of your sayings, I think that all gambling has been cancelled.'

'Huh?'

'Is that not how you say it? "All gambling has been cancelled." It means that the rules no longer apply.'

'I think what you're trying to say is, All bets are off,' Swain said gently. 'But you were close. Very close.'

Selexin preened at that, pleased with himself.

Swain turned back to the Karanadon. The long spiked bristles on the beast's back were rising and falling in time with its loud, strained breathing. It was absolutely enormous.

'So can we kill it?'

'I thought you did not kill defenceless victims,' Selexin said.

'That only counts for people.'

'Balthazar was not a person, and you did not kill him. He is amorphic, remember. As a matter of fact, I am sure that you would be rather surprised at Balthazar's true form--'

Swain said, 'All right. Only for things that look like people, then. And besides,' he looked at the Karanadon, 'Balthazar wasn't going to rip my head off if he decided to fight back.'

Selexin looked as if he was about to object but stopped himself. He merely said, 'Okay.'

'So. What do you think? Can we kill it?' Swain asked.

'I don't see why not. But what will you kill it with?'

They surveyed the elevator. There wasn't much to be found by way of weapons. The roof of the lift had been made of thin plasterboard and one whole half of it had simply disappeared, destroyed by the Karanadon's fall. Large jagged shards of frosted plastic from the fluorescent lights lay strewn across the floor. Swain picked one up. In his hand, it looked like a pretty pathetic weapon.

Selexin shrugged. 'It could work. Then again, it might not do anything except wake it up.'

'Hmm,' Swain didn't like the thought of that.

He didn't want to rouse the Karanadon. It was fine now. Out cold. But for how long? And killing something that was bigger and stronger than a grizzly bear, by hand, with a shard of plastic, somehow didn't seem very likely.

At that moment, the Karanadon's right claw reached up lazily and swatted at something buzzing around its snout. Then the claw resumed its position by the creature's side and the big beast continued its slumber as if nothing had happened.

Swain watched it intently. Frozen.

The Karanadon snorted loudly, shuffled onto its side, rolled over.

'You know, upon further reflection, I am not so sure that killing it is a very good idea,' Selexin whispered.

'I was just thinking the same thing myself,' Swain said. 'Come on, let's go.' He stood up and lifted Holly.

'Come on, honey. Time to go.'

She stirred groggily, '-- my head hurts.'

'Where to?' Selexin asked.

'Up,' Swain said, pointing to the big hole in the roof of the elevator.

After heaving the outer elevator doors open, Swain looked out into the musty yellow gloom to see row upon row of bookshelves stretching away to his left and right.

It was Sub-Level Two.

The Stack.

They were standing on what was left of the roof of the destroyed elevator, five feet below the floor level of Sub-Level Two. The concrete bottom of the elevator shaft, it seemed, was still a fair way below Sub-Level Two.

Swain climbed out first and saw that on this floor, the elevators were embedded in the wall of bookshelves.

He looked out from the doors and immediately realised that they were on one of the long ends of the rectangular floor. The southern wall.

Swain remembered finding Hawkins on this floor, and seeing Reese for the first time, and running blindly through the maze of shelves to the safety of the stairwell. But that, he remembered, had happened on the other side of the floor.

He turned back to the elevator shaft and pulled Holly and Selexin out.

'I remember this part of the labyrinth,' Selexin said, seeing the bookshelves around him. 'Reese.'

'That's right.'

'Daddy, I have a headache,' Holly said wearily.

'I know, honey.'

'I want to go home.'

'So do I,' Swain said, reaching down, touching her head. 'We'll see if we can find something for your headache, and at the same time, somewhere to hole up. Come on, let's go.'

They began walking left, down the southern wall of the Stack. After walking some distance, their aisle turned sharply to the right, and they headed up the shorter western wall of the floor. They had gone about twenty yards along the wall when Swain noticed something odd.

Just ahead of them, flush against the outer wall of shelves, something was ajar, sticking slightly out into the aisle. Something red.

As they came closer, Swain realised what it was.

It was a door.

A small red door, slightly opened. It was tucked into the outer wall of shelves, very unobtrusively. Indeed, Swain had seen it only because he had almost walked right past it. Anyone conducting a cursory examination of the Stack would almost certainly miss it.

The small red door had writing on it.

'"No Staff Access Permitted",' Selexin read aloud. 'What is that supposed to mean?'

But Swain wasn't paying any attention to Selexin. He was already kneeling in front of the door, peering down at its base.

Selexin said, 'I thought the staff were allowed to go everywhere in a place like this--'

'Shh,' Swain said. 'Look at this.'

Selexin and Holly crouched beside him and stared down at the book lying on the floor, wedged in between the door and its frame.

'It looks like it is holding the door open...' Selexin said.

'It is holding the door open,' Swain said, 'or at least stopping it from closing.'

'Why?' Holly asked.

Swain frowned. 'I don't know.' He looked at the door handle. On the library side, it had a keyhole in the middle of a plain silver knob. On the other side, though, he could not see any lock or keyhole. High up near the hinges he saw the closing mechanism.

'It's spring-loaded,' he said. 'To make sure it shuts every time. That's why someone used the book.'

'Why is no staff access permitted?' Selexin asked.

'Probably because this door has nothing to do with the library. And only staff are allowed in the Stack. I'd say it's probably a gas or electricity meter. Something like that,' Swain said. 'Something the staff are not supposed to touch.'

'Oh.'

Holly said, 'Can we get out through there?'

Swain looked to Selexin. 'I don't know. Can we?'

'The labyrinth was supposed to be sealed at the time of electrification. I cannot know what would happen if one entrance was not fully closed at that time. But I can guess.'

'So guess.'

'Well,' Selexin peered around the rim of the small red door marked NO staff access permitted. 'I see no visible sign of electrification here. And unless there is another door beyond this one that was closed at the time of electrification, my guess is that we may have just found a way out of the labyrinth.'

'A way out?' Holly said hopefully.

'Yes.'

'Are you sure?' Swain whispered.

'There is only one way to find out,' Selexin said. 'We have to see if there is another door beyond this one.'

'Do we?' Swain said, thinking.

'Why, yes,' Selexin said. 'Unless you can think of another way.'

Crouching on the floor, Swain looked up at the little man, and said, 'As a matter of fact, I think I can.'

And with that, Stephen Swain thrust his left arm -- with the thick grey wristband attached to it -- through the gap between the small red door and its frame.

Immediately they heard a loud, insistent beeping coming from outside the door, and after a couple of seconds, Swain pulled his wrist back inside.

The beeping stopped instantly.

They all looked at the thick grey wristband. Its display now read:

INITIALISED--6

DETONATION SEQUENCE INITIALISED.

AT * 14:57 * DETONATION SEQUENCE

CANCELLED

RESET.

14:57 was flashing.

Swain smiled at Selexin. 'There's no outer door. This is the last one.'

'How do you know, Daddy?' Holly asked.

'Because,' Selexin said, 'your father's wristband is set to initialise an automatic detonation sequence of fifteen minutes as soon as it senses that it is outside the energy field of this labyrinth.'

'What?' Holly said.

Swain said, 'He means that if I move outside the electric field that's all around this building, this wristband will explode unless I get back inside in fifteen minutes.'

'And do you see that?' Selexin pointed to the readout, the flashing 14:57. 'The countdown started when he put his wrist outside the door.'

'Which means,' Swain continued, 'that once we're outside this door, we're outside the electrical field, and outside the labyrinth.'

'Right,' Selexin said.

'So let's go,' Holly said. 'Let's get out of this place.'

'We can't,' Swain said sadly, 'or, at least, I can't. Not yet.'

'Why not?' Holly said.

'Because of the wristband,' Selexin sighed.

Swain nodded. 'I can't get it off. And if I don't, I'll only last fifteen minutes before this thing explodes.'

'Then we had better find a way to get it off,' Selexin said.

'How?' Swain said, shaking his wrist. The wristband was hard and strong, a thick steel clamp. 'Look at it. It's as solid as a rock. We'd need an axe or a hammer to break it open, and someone strong enough to crack it.'

'I bet Balthazar could do it,' Holly said. 'He's really big. And I bet he's really strong, too.'

'And when we last saw him, he was not strong enough to stand up by himself,' Selexin said sourly.

'We don't even know if he and Hawkins are still alive,' Swain said. 'There has to be another way.'

Selexin said, 'Maybe they have a vice around here that we could squeeze it in. Snap it open with the pressure.'

'In a library? Not likely.'

Frustrated, Selexin sat down next to the semi-opened door, staring at the escape he couldn't use. Swain was also gazing at the door, deep in thought. Holly held him tightly by the arm.

'Well, first of all,' Swain said, 'we have to get you guys out. After that, I'll just have to find a way to get this thing off and then meet you outside.' He snorted. 'Hmph. Maybe I should go and ask Bellos if he'd like to have a try. I'm sure he'd like that.'

'He'd definitely be strong enough,' Selexin said.

'But would he do it?' Swain scoffed.

'Gladly,' a deep baritone voice said from somewhere behind him.

----ooo0ooo------

Swain spun.

There, right in front of him, standing in one of the aisles perpendicular to the western wall, stood Bellos.

Swain felt a chill at the sight of the man. His body, his face, his long tapering horns, everything about him was black. Except for his breastplate, which Swain now clearly saw to be beautifully crafted in gold.

And he was tall, taller than he had seemed before. At least seven feet.

'Greetings, fellow competitor. Before you stands Bellos--'

'I know who you are,' Swain said softly.

Bellos cocked his head in astonishment.

'Where are your hoods?' Swain asked calmly, as Selexin and Holly slowly got to their feet beside him. 'You don't fight without them, do you?'

Bellos chuckled evilly. As he did so, Swain saw something jingle at his side -- something attached to his belt.

It was the Konda's breathing mask.

With a tinge of horror, Swain recalled Selexin's earlier description of Bellos: the trophy collector.

And then suddenly he caught sight of a second object clipped to Bellos' belt, something that glinted dull gold in the mouldy yellow light of the Stack. Swain's eyes widened when he saw what it was.

It was a New York Police Department badge.

Hawkins' partner...

Bellos spoke, releasing Swain from his thoughts. 'You attempt to show courage you do not possess, little man. There are no hoods here. Just you. And me.'

'Really,' Swain said. 'I don't believe you.'

Bellos stepped forward. 'You use strong words for a man who is moriturum esse.'

'Moriturum esse,' Swain repeated. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched for the hoods, expecting one of them to spring from one of the nearby aisles at any moment now. 'About to die, huh. If that's the case, why don't you just osci assinum meum then,' he said.

Bellos frowned, not understanding.

'Osci assinum meum?' he repeated, perplexed. 'You want me to kiss your mule, your ass?'

Swain surreptitiously kicked the book wedged in the doorway clear from the small red door. The spring-loaded door immediately began to close and he caught it in his hand -- behind his back.

'When they attack,' he whispered to Selexin and Holly, 'I want you two to run straight through the door. Don't worry about me.'

'But--'

'Just do it,' Swain said, never taking his eyes off Bellos.

Bellos sneered, 'Do you just stand there, little man, or do you fight?

Swain said nothing, just looked left. Then right. Waiting for the hoods.

They attacked.

Suddenly. Without warning. From the front. Not the sides. From behind Bellos' shoulder.

It was a single hood, springing forward, claws bared. Straight at Swain.

With his free hand Swain swiped at the creature backhanded, hitting it squarely in the head, sending it crashing to the floor with a squeal.

Swain immediately opened the door behind him. 'Go!' he yelled to Selexin and Holly. 'Go! Go!'

And then the second hood attacked.

This one came from the left, slamming into Swain's back, knocking him to the floor, making him let go of the door.

The spring-loaded door began to close.

The second hood leapt at Swain again as he rolled onto his back. Swain threw a desperate arm up at the approaching hood and caught its narrow throat in his hand. Its massive jaws clamped viciously open and shut, trying madly to reach his face, as Swain held it out at arm's length.

Its claws swatted wildly, lashing out at his chest -- but they weren't long enough. So it went for his arm instead -- slashing ferociously. Five bloody gashes appeared instantly across Swain's forearm.

It was then that Swain saw the door closing.

'The door! Get the door!' he yelled to Holly and Selexin.

But Holly and Selexin just stood there. Dead still. Staring off to the right, down the western wall.

Swain was looking desperately at the rapidly closing door. It was almost shut when, as a last resort, he thrust his leg out and wedged his foot between the door and its frame.

'Go!' he yelled, kicking the door open again as he wrestled with the hood.

But Selexin and Holly weren't moving.

They were watching the third and fourth hoods as they stalked ominously out into the aisle.

Swain got up on one knee, still holding the second hood at arm's length. The animal decided on a new tactic. Instead of writhing about maniacally in his grip, lashing out with its claws, it grabbed hold of Swain's forearm with both its claws, clinging to him, and started squeezing, hoping to break his grip on its neck.

'Jesus! Go! Get out!' Swain yelled, his foot holding the door wide open. 'I can't hold it open much longer!'

But Holly and Selexin didn't move, and when at last he saw what they were looking at, Swain had a fleeting thought that came a second too late.

Where did that first hood go?

The first hood slammed into Swain at a crunching speed -- hurling itself, Swain and the second hood into the open door. Swain bounced off the door and into the dark corridor beyond it, the two hoods with him.

'No!' he cried, as he saw the door behind him start closing again.

He still had the second hood's throat gripped tightly in his hand -- just as it still held his forearm. Ruthlessly, he banged its head twice against the hard concrete floor and the hood immediately released its grip and its body went limp and Swain threw it aside and dived for the closing door.

There was noise everywhere. The hoods squealing, a loud electronic beeping coming from his wristband, and then -- worst of all -- the sound of Holly screaming inside the library.

Still diving, Swain landed a few feet short of the door and slid the rest of the way on his chest, arms outstretched...

Too late.

The door shut.

The lock clicked.

And a blinding burst of sizzling blue electricity exploded out from the hinges and the handle.

Electrified.

There was a sudden, terrifying silence, broken only by the loud insistent beeping noise that came from Swain's wristband. Swain looked down at it. It read:

INITIALISED--6

DETONATION SEQUENCE INITIALISED.

* 14:55 *

AND COUNTING

Stephen Swain looked up at the electrified door in horror.

He was now outside the labyrinth.

FOURTH MOVEMENT

30 November, 8:41 p.m.

----ooo0ooo------

Holly and Selexin ran flat out down one of the aisles of Sub-Level Two.

Holly could hear nothing but her own rapid breathing as they raced down the narrow canyons of bookshelves. Beside her, Selexin was holding her hand, pulling her along, constantly looking behind them.

They came to a junction of aisles and made a quick right-left, zig-zagging their way toward the stairs at the centre of the massive subterranean floor.

Holly had started screaming as soon as she'd seen Swain tumble backwards through the doorway under the weight of the two hoods, but Selexin had suddenly come to life, seizing her hand, pulling her down the nearest aisle.

Behind them, they could hear the snarls and grunts of the hoods in hot pursuit.

Not far behind.

And gaining. Fast.

Selexin pulled Holly harder. They had to keep running.

Swain surveyed the dark passageway around him. Mouldy yellow fluorescent lights illuminated the tiny corridor.

The hood by his feet groaned softly. It lay on the floor, dazed by the two pounding blows Swain had given it against the hard concrete floor.

The other hood was nowhere in sight.

Swain crouched beside the hood on the floor. It hissed defiantly at him, but it was too badly injured to move.

Swain looked at his wristband, at the countdown in progress.

14:30

14:29

14:28

There was no time to waste. He had fourteen minutes to get back inside before his wristband exploded.

No. More important than that. He had fourteen minutes to get back to Holly.

Swain grimaced and picked up the injured hood by its narrow throat. It wriggled weakly in his grip -- a futile gesture. Then Swain closed his eyes and banged the creature's head a final time against the concrete floor. The body went limp immediately. Dead.

Swain discarded the carcass and headed cautiously down the narrow corridor.

The other hood was still nowhere to be seen.

At the end of the passageway, he came to a small room filled with large box-like electricity meters attached to the walls. A big sign above one of the meters read:

BOOSTER VALVE.

Swain noticed a small talon of jagged blue electricity licking intermittently out of a gap in the ceiling, touching the booster valve meter, causing it to short. Con Ed would love that, he thought.

There was a small doorway on the other side of the room.

With no door.

With his wristband still beeping insistently, Swain eased his way through the doorway and found himself standing beside the train tracks of the New York Subway.

It was quiet in the train tunnel. The walls were all painted black, with long white fluorescent tubes spaced every fifteen yards or so. An old wooden door swayed from a sturdy padlock by the side of the doorway. Swain wondered how the door had come to be pulled from its hinges.

There was a rustling sound from his right.

Swain turned.

The second hood was right there!

Three yards away, its back turned, its head shaking violently from side to side. In its mouth, the remains of what was once a rat.

Swain was about to move away from the hood when there came a soft rumble from deep within the tunnel. The tracks beside him began to hum.

Vibrating.

A soft white glow appeared around of the corner of the tunnel.

Suddenly a subway train burst through the silence, its wheels screaming a deafening, high-pitched wail, its brightly lit windows flashing rapidly by.

Immediately, Swain dropped to the black sooty ground of the tunnel, and in the flashing light of the train saw the hood's head snap up and see him.

The train roared by, kicking up specks of dust and dirt, throwing them at Swain's face. He squeezed his eyes shut.

And then, in an instant, the train was gone, and the tunnel was silent once more. The wristband continued beeping.

Slowly, Swain raised his head.

The tunnel was empty. He glanced over to where the hood had been--

It was gone.

Swain spun around.

Nothing.

He could feel his heart thumping loudly inside his head now. His right forearm stung like crazy where dust from the passing train had fallen inside the five deep claw-marks. He began to sweat.

13:40

13:39

13:38

He didn't have time for this. He rolled onto his side, and -- strangely -- felt something in his left jeans pocket.

It was the broken phone receiver. He had forgotten all about that. Holly had given it to him back on the First Floor. He checked his other pocket.

The handcuffs.

And Jim Wilson's useless Zippo lighter.

He checked the time again.

13:28

AND COUNTING

The words were flashing.

Christ, he thought, and counting. I know that. I know that!

Shit.

Fearfully, Swain scanned the tunnel around him, searching for the hood. Time was running out. He had to get back inside.

And then, without a sound, the hood attacked him from behind, slamming into his back, sending them both sprawling onto the train tracks. The handcuffs fell to the ground; the lighter, too.

The hood leapt onto his back, but Swain rolled quickly, hurling it clear.

Like a cat, the hood landed smoothly on its feet and immediately spun around and launched itself again at Swain. Swain caught it by its narrow throat, and fell onto his back in between the train tracks.

The hood hissed and squealed and writhed madly about, desperately trying to break Swain's grip. It flailed its razor-sharp claws in every direction -- one claw slashing down Swain's chest, ripping the buttons off his shirt, drawing blood, the other swiping viciously at his arm.'

Swain lay on his back, on the concrete sleepers in between the train tracks, holding his hand outstretched, keeping the frenzied hood at arm's length. Better to let it cut his forearm a few times than let it get at his body--

And then he froze.

He heard it.

A soft, distant rumble.

The hood paid no attention, it just kept jerking its body about fitfully.

And then, on either side of Swain, the train tracks began to hum.

Vibrating.

Oh, no...

Oh, no!

Swain's face was right next to the railway track, his eyes level with one of the large circular hooks -- on the inside of the tracks -- that held the rails to the sleepers.

The hooks, he thought.

The hood was still twisting and turning as Swain rolled suddenly.

Searching.

The hum of the tracks grew louder.

Swain looked desperately about himself. Where were they?

Louder still.

Where...

This side. That side. Searching. Searching...

He could hear the metallic rattling of the approaching train. It would be on them any second now--

There!

The handcuffs lay on the ground, beside another of the big round hooks on the inside of the tracks.

Swain reached over with his free hand and grabbed the cuffs and in one swift movement brought them up to the hood's throat and snapped them around its narrow neck.

Calick!

The hood was momentarily startled by the single handcuff locked around its throat.

Swain looked up and saw a hazy white light growing around the corner of the tunnel. The rumbling was very loud now.

Then he quickly dropped the hood and latched the other cuff around the nearest hook on the inside of the track.

Calick!

The scream of steel wheels filled the air. The train rounded the corner.

Swain grabbed the hood by its tail, and dived clear of the tracks, yanking the animal with him.

The handcuffs went instantly taut.

And the hood was left with its head cuffed to the hook on the inside of the track, and its body held to the outside by Swain.

The train shot past Swain, and there was a loud, sickening crunch! as its steel wheels carved through the bone of the hood's neck, decapitating it.

The train roared by, windows flashing, and then disappeared into the tunnel.

There was silence again, except for the wristband's incessant beeping.

Slimy black ooze dripped slowly from the hood's headless body. Swain touched the large droplets of blood that had splattered all over him as the train had sliced the hood's head off.

He dropped the body and looked at his wristband.

11:01

11:00

10:59

AND COUNTING

Only eleven minutes to get back inside.

There wasn't much time.

Swain hurriedly picked up the lighter and leapt from the black floor of the subway tunnel and began to run down the tracks into the darkness.

----ooo0ooo------

John Levine sat in the passenger seat of a black Lincoln sedan parked across the street from the main entrance to the State Library of New York.

The building looked peaceful. Quiet. Dead.

Levine looked at his watch. 8:30 p.m. Marshall should have been here by now.

His cellular rang.

'Levine,' the voice said. 'It's Marshall. Are you at the library?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Is it secure?'

'Affirmative, sir,' Levine said, 'as quiet as a mouse.'

'All right, then,' Marshall said, 'the insertion team is en route. They'll be there in five minutes. I'll be there in two. Break out the tape. I want a thirty-yard perimeter set all the way around that building, okay. And Levine...'

'Yes, sir?'

'Whatever you do, don't touch the building itself.'

Selexin and Holly could see the stairwell now.

Up ahead. Thirty yards away.

Panting madly, they kept running down the narrow aisle.

They were approaching the intersection of two aisles when suddenly a hood leapt across their path, its claws raised, its jagged teeth bared wide.

Holly and Selexin skidded to a stop and the hood crashed down onto the hard wood floor in front of them.

It got to its feet again, quickly blocking their path down the aisle. Not far beyond the animal, they could see the open door to the stairwell.

Selexin spun to go back the other way but stopped instantly.

There behind them, stepping slowly into the narrow aisle, was the second hood.

Swain ran down the tunnel, toward a light around the bend.

It was a subway station. Which one, he didn't care.

10:01

10:00

9:59

Swain burst into the white light of the subway station and heaved himself up from the tracks onto the platform.

A murmur arose among the commuters standing on the platform. They all stepped back in horror as Swain pushed past them, oblivious to how he must have looked.

His jeans were covered with black streaks of grease, and his shirt -- filthy black with subway soot, elevator grease and hoodaya blood -- was ripped from neck to navel. A single vertical line of blood stretched down his chest, while his right forearm was soaked red from the deep gashes inflicted by the hood. The bloody red scar across his left cheek was indistinguishable on his black sooty face.

Swain barged through the crowd and raced up the stairs toward the surface.

'What do we do now?' Holly whispered fearfully.

'I don't know, I don't know,' Selexin said.

The two hoods stood at both ends of the aisle, trapping Holly and Selexin in the middle.

Selexin, four feet tall, and Holly, about the same, were scarcely bigger than the two hoods.

Selexin looked anxiously around himself, at the bookshelves that stretched up to the ceiling. They seemed to form an impenetrable wall on either side of the aisle.

The hood in front of them edged closer. The other didn't move.

Holly noticed why.

The second hood, the one preventing their retreat, had no left foreclaw. Just a bloody stump at the end of its bony black arm. It must have been the one that Balthazar had pinned to the railing with his knife up on the First Floor.

Holly jabbed Selexin with her elbow and pointed at the hood and he saw it, too.

Selexin edged away from the first hood, toward the injured one, still eyeing the impenetrable walls of shelves on either side of them.

Wait a minute, he thought.

He scanned the bookshelves again.

They weren't impenetrable at all.

'Quickly,' he said. 'Grab the books. The ones here,' he pointed to a low shelf. 'Grab them and start throwing.'

He reached down to the bottom shelf and grabbed a large hardback and hurled it at the able-bodied hood, striking it in the face. The hood snarled angrily back at him.

A second book hit it again. Then a third. The fourth book hit the injured hood.

'Keep throwing them,' Selexin said.

They kept hurling books at the hoods, who backed off slightly. Holly threw another and was reaching down for more when suddenly she understood what Selexin was doing.

He wasn't just using the books to keep the hoods at bay. He was using them to create a hole in the bookshelf. The more books they threw from the shelf, the bigger the gap in the shelf became. Soon Holly could see through to the next, parallel aisle.

'Are you ready?' Selexin said, throwing a book, hitting the injured hood on its wounded forelimb. The black creature howled in agony.

'I think so,' Holly said.

The able-bodied hood began to move in.

'All right,' Selexin said. 'Go!'

Without a second thought, Holly dived cleanly through the gap in the bookshelf and landed with a thud in the next aisle.

But Selexin continued to stand in the original aisle.

The injured hood stepped cautiously forward.

The two hoods closed in on either side of the little man.

'Come on!' Holly said from the next aisle. 'Jump through!'

'Not yet,' Selexin didn't take his eyes off the approaching hoods. 'Not yet.' He threw another book at the injured hood. It hit. The hood hissed angrily.

'Come on!' Holly said.

'Just get ready to run, okay,' Selexin said.

Holly looked frantically down her aisle. On one side she could see the stairwell. On the other...

She froze.

It was Bellos.

Striding down the aisle toward her with long strong powerful steps.

'Selexin, jump! Jump right now!' she screamed.

'They're not close enough yet...'

'Just jump! He's almost here!'

'He...?' Selexin was momentarily startled. The hoods were very close now.

'Oh! Him?' Realising, Selexin immediately dived through the gap in the shelf, landing in a heap at Holly's feet. She pulled him up and they ran for the stairwell.

Behind them, Bellos began to run.

They bolted down the aisle. Holly could hear the able-bodied hood grunting and snorting as it ran down the parallel aisle.

They hit the stairs running and climbed them two at a time.

Behind them they heard the distinctive scratching sound of claws on marble as the hood charged into the stairwell. That sound was quickly followed by a sudden thudding, crashing sound as the hood lost its footing on the slippery marble floor and slammed into the concrete wall.

Breathlessly, Holly and Selexin kept climbing and climbing until they could hear nothing behind them.

The stairwell was silent.

They kept hurrying upward.

And then there came a voice, from way down at the bottom of the shaft, echoing loudly through the stairwell.

'Keep running!' Bellos' voice boomed. 'Keep running, tiny man! We will find you! We will always find you! The hunt has begun, and you are the game. I will hunt you, and I will find you, and when I do, tiny man, you will wish to God that somebody else had found you first!'

The voice stopped. And as Holly and Selexin climbed higher, an evil laugh resounded throughout the stairwell.

----ooo0ooo------

'Here they come,' Levine said to Marshall as they stood beside his car.

A massive blue van rounded the corner and stopped behind Levine's Lincoln. It looked like a big TV van, with a revolving satellite dish on the roof and flashing blue police lights.

Levine shielded his eyes from the glare of the van's headlights as a barrel-chested man dressed completely in blue stepped down from the passenger-side door and stood to attention before Marshall.

It was Harold Quaid.

Commander Harold Quaid.

Levine hadn't actually worked with Quaid before, but his reputation was legendary. Apparently Quaid had given himself the title of 'Commander' -- there was no such rank in the NSA -- when he had assumed command of Sigma Division's field team. Rumour had it that he had once killed a civilian by mistake while following up a bogus alien sighting. No investigation into the incident was ever held.

Tonight he was dressed exactly like a SWAT team member: blue fatigues, bulletproof vest, boots, cap and gunbelt.

'Sir,' Quaid said to Marshall.

'Harry,' Marshall nodded. 'You made good time.'

'As always, sir.'

Marshall turned to Levine. 'You've cordoned off the site?'

'They're finishing now,' Levine said. 'Tape's set up all around the building. Thirty yards. Even in the park.'

'Nobody's touched the building?'

'They were given strict instructions.'

'Good,' Marshall said. On the Eavesdropper satellite's last pass -- now targeted directly at the New York State Library -- an unusually large amount of electromagnetic energy had been detected surging through the outer surface of the building. Marshall didn't want to take any chances.

He turned to Quaid. 'I hope your boys are ready. This is the big one.'

Quaid smiled. It was a cold, thin smile. 'We're ready.'

'You'd better be,' Marshall said, 'because as soon as we figure out how to bring down the electric field around that building, you're going in.'

----ooo0ooo------

For the first time that night, Stephen Swain beheld the exterior of the New York State Library.

It was a beautiful building. Four storeys high, square-shaped, flat-roofed, with six majestic Corinthian columns stretching all the way up from the front steps to the roof.

In fact, it looked like an old Southern courthouse, grandly situated in the middle of a beautiful inner-city park, as if part of a town square. Only this was a dated town square, dwarfed by the skyscrapers that had grown up around it.

Swain watched the library from across the street, from the entrance to the subway station. He was breathing hard, and the wounds to his chest and forearms burned.

His wristband was still beeping.

8:00

7:59

7:58

Time was running out and the situation didn't look good.

The library had been sealed off.

A single ribbon of bright yellow police tape stretched from tree to tree in the park surrounding the big dark building, leaving at least thirty-odd yards of open ground between the tape and the walls of the library.

Half a dozen unmarked cars -- their headlights still on -- formed a tight circle in front of the main entrance to the library. And in the centre of the circle, towering above the cars, stood a big blue police van with a revolving dish on its roof. Next to the dish, flashing blue police lights spun crazily, splashing the park around the library in a strobe-like blue haze.

Damn it, Swain thought, as he watched the big blue van.

For the last two hours all he had wanted to do was get out of the library -- to get himself and Holly away from Reese and Bellos and the Karanadon -- to get out of the electrified cage the library had become.

And now?

Swain smiled sadly.

Now he had to get back in.

To get back in and stop this bomb on his wrist from going off. To get back inside the cage, where Reese and Bellos and the Karanadon were waiting for him, waiting to kill him.

But most importantly of all, to get back inside and save Holly. The mere thought of his only daughter trapped inside the library with those monsters made him feel ill. The thought of her being trapped in there after he was dead, made him feel terrible. She'd already lost one parent. She wasn't going to lose another one.

But he still had to penetrate the electrified walls.

And who were these new people?

7:44

Swain's gaze came to rest on some shadows at the rear of the library building. Darkness there. Good. It was a chance.

Swain ran across the street.

The park surrounding the State Library was a pretty one, flat and grassy, with evenly spaced oaks spread around three sides of the central building -- only now, the oak trees were joined by the bright yellow tape.

Outside the perimeter of oaks, on the eastern side of the building, stood a splendid white rotunda. It was essentially an elevated circular stage, free-standing, with six thin pillars supporting a beautiful domed roof twenty feet above the stage itself. A lattice handrail circled the stage.

It was a beautiful structure, popular for outdoor weddings and the like. Swain even remembered taking Holly to the pantomimes they held here in the summer -- Wizard of Oz-type shows that involved clouds of coloured smoke and the deft use of a trapdoor in the centre of the stage.

Swain scampered across the open grass and ducked behind the rotunda's stage, out of sight.

Twenty yards to the nearest oak.

Thirty yards from the oak to the library.

He was about to run for the treeline when he saw a garbage bin next to him.

He stopped. Thinking.