Dead and Alive

dictator in the world, expressing his gratitude, saying in part, “… and if it could be revealed that your three nations worked together to perfect this effective and reliable material, the revelation would make fools of cynics who claim your good selves are not capable of international cooperation.”
    As Victor knew too well from centuries of disappointments, the worst thing about the sudden relocation of the enterprise following a catastrophic occurrence was the irretrievable loss of correspondence and other mementos that reminded you of the
personal
side of a great scientific undertaking. His work was not always solitary and somber. He built many friendships over the years, and there were balmy days in places like Cuba and Venezuela and Haiti and the old Soviet, when he had taken the time to share laughter and memories with longtime friends and discuss the important issues of the age with new friends of like mind. In the firestorm to come, so many small but precious things would be destroyed that he risked a disabling seizure of nostalgia if he dwelt too much on the forthcoming loss.
    When he stepped out of the main laboratory, something to his right, about sixty feet farther along the hall, drew his attention. It was big, perhaps as large as four men, with six thick insectile legs, like the legs on a Jerusalem cricket much enlarged, and a riot of other anatomical features. Numerous faces appearedto be embedded in the body, some in the oddest places. The face nearest to where a head belonged—and obviously the most dominant of the group—rather resembled Werner.
    From this reprehensibly undisciplined creature came a dozen or two dozen voices, eerily childlike, all of them chanting the same grossly offensive word:
“Father … Father … Father … Father …”

CHAPTER 48
    IN THE LIBRARY of the Helios mansion, Erika Five said, “I found it by chance yesterday.”
    She slid her hand along the underside of a shelf and flicked the concealed switch.
    A section of bookshelves swung open on pivot hinges, and ceiling lights revealed the secret passageway beyond.
    Jocko said, “This feels bad to Jocko. You want Jocko’s opinion. Opinion is—
not good.”
    “It’s not just the passageway. It’s what lies at the other end of it that’s the bigger issue.”
    “What lies at the other end?”
    Crossing the threshold, she said, “Better you see it than I tell you. I’d color my description, no matter how I tried not to. I need your unbiased opinion.”
    Hesitating to follow her, Jocko said, “Is it scary in there? Tell Jocko true.”
    “It’s a little scary, but only a little.”
    “Is it scarier than a dark, damp storm drain when you don’t have your teddy bear anymore?”
    “I’ve never been in a storm drain, but I imagine one would be a lot scarier than this.”
    “Is it scarier than Jocko’s teddy bear being full of spiders waiting for bedtime so they can crawl in his ears when he sleeps and spin a web in his brain and turn him into a spider slave?”
    Erika shook her head. “No, it isn’t that scary.”
    “Okay!” Jocko said brightly, and crossed the threshold.
    The floor, walls, and ceiling of the four-foot-wide passageway were solid concrete.
    The secret door in the bookshelves closed automatically behind the troll, and he said, “Jocko must really want that funny hat.”
    The narrow corridor led to a formidable steel door. It was kept shut by five inch-thick steel bolts: one in the header, one in the threshold, three in the right-hand jamb, opposite the massive hinges.
    “What’s locked in there?” Jocko asked. “Something that might get out. Something not supposed to get out.”
    “You’ll see,” she said, extracting the bolts one by one.
    “Is it something that will beat Jocko with a stick?”
    “No. Nothing like that.”
    “Is it something that will call Jocko a freak and throw dog poop at him?”
    “No. That won’t happen here.”
    Jocko did not appear to be convinced.
    The steel slab swung smoothly away from them on ball-bearing hinges, activating lights on the farther side.
    The subsequent twelve-foot-long passageway ended in a door identical to the first.
    Scores of metal rods bristled from the walls, copper on Erika’s left, steel or some alloy of steel on her right. A soft hum arose from them.
    “Uh-oh,” said the troll.
    “I wasn’t electrocuted the first time,” Erika assured him. “So I’m pretty sure we’ll be okay.”
    “But Erika is luckier than