Michael Moorcock: A Cure for Cancer

Koutrouboussis's eyes glowed from the shadows as he darted a look of jealousy at Cornelius. The poor man had sacrificed himself for others, but he could not help resenting them from time to time.

'Ah,' he said.

The organization got the French delivery?' Cornelius said. Thirty two. Fifteen men, seventeen women?'

'Oh yes. In good time,' Koutrouboussis said with a secret in his mellowing eyes.

That was important,' Cornelius murmured. 'I'm glad. You were to settle here.'

'It's been arranged. Sixty-four thousand pounds in hard yen in your London account under the name of Aserinsky. Well worth it.'

Jerry worked on a strict commission basis. It preserved autonomy and had been part of the original contract when he had surrendered admin control to the Greeks. 'Have they been processed yet?'

'A few. It should be a successful batch, I think.'

Jerry held out his glass for another drink; Pernod was the only alcohol he really liked and in this he was a child.

'But we're having trouble,' Koutrouboussis added. 'Opposition...'

That's not -'

'- unusual, I know. But in this case the opposition seems to realize what we're up to. I mean, they understand what we're doing.'

'A tip-off?'

'Could be. But does — it doesn't matter.'

'No.'

'This group,' continued Koutrouboussis, 'is an international one with its headquarters in America...'

'Where else? Official?'

'I don't know. Perhaps. The difficulties...'

'Difficult for them to operate and for us to reach them, of course But do you...?'

'We don't want you to go there.'

Jerry leant back in his chair. He looked nervously at the flickering fire in the grate nearby, but it offered no danger. He relaxed.

'It's the German chapter that seems to be offering us the serious threat at this stage,' Koutrouboussis cleaned his nails with a toothpick. 'We know one of them — a woman. She's a dental surgeon living in Cologne. Already she's deconverted some half-dozen of our German people.'

'Turned them on and turned them back?'

'Exactly. The usual method. But much smoother.'

'So she's got a good idea of our process.'

'To the last detail, apparently. Some Russian source, I think the leak. Maybe the Patriarch himself, eh?'

'You want me to kill her?'

'How you work is up to you.' Koutrouboussis fingered his lips.

Jerry's black face glistened in the firelight. He frowned. 'We'd prefer a conversion, I suppose.'

'Always. But if you can't save a soul, get rid of it.' Koutrouboussis smirked with self approval (although normally he did not at all approve of his self).

The organization isn't in agreement on that issue,' Jerry pointed out. 'Repent or die.'

'Quite.' . .

'Well. I'll see what I can do.' Jerry stroked the girl's pelvis. 'And ( go to Cologne, eh?'

'It might be an idea,' Koutrouboussis said uncertainly. To get yourself fully in the picture — but you needn't do anything there. She's coming to Britain, we gather, shortly, to organize the British chapter.'

Unsettled by the Greek's somewhat puritanical attitude (natural, he supposed, for a man who had given up so much), Jerry drank another glass of Pernod, feeling a trifle light-headed. The flavour of the liquorice was firmly on his palate now. If he were going to enjoy his dinner, he had better stop.

'Bring me a glass of ice-water, darling, will you please?' He patted the girl's thigh.

That would be the best time to strike,' Koutrouboussis suggested. 'Off her own territory and on yours.'

Jerry reached out for the water and drank it slowly. 'What's her name?'

'Name?'

'What's she called?'

'Name.'

Koutrouboussis made an urgent, spasmodic gesture with his right hand. He breathed heavily.

'Doctor...' he began. 'Karen — Karen...'

Jerry reached up and pulled the girl to him. They kissed each other firmly and pulling off their clothes lay down on the floor and fucked with hot and hasty passion.

'... von...'., Snorting and quivering, they came.

'... Krupp.'

'What was that again?' Jerry did up his trousers.

'Doctor Karen von Krupp. It's a lot to remember.'

'Got it.'

Jerry felt only pity. For some men, immortality was not enough. 'Her address in Cologne?'

'She lives outside Cologne. A small town to the west. Nibel-burg. Look for the old Gothic stone tower. That's where she has her surgery.'

'So I go to her and ask her to check my teeth.' Jerry tapped his whitened choppers.

'She'll guess who you are.'

'Will she try to detain me?'

'Make sure she doesn't,' Koutrouboussis said nervously. 'Not you, Cornelius. We can't afford it.'

Jerry smiled. He could smell the first course, moules mariniere, just before there was a knock on the door and the waiter pushed the trolley into the room.

Koutrouboussis had given him his route plan, but how he crossed from Dover to Ostend was his own affair. It was more than twenty miles of sea, and three miles out was the tight circle of well-armed U. S. 'pirate' radio ships.

Jerry's Phantom VI, a streak of pink power on the white, sparkling road, roared through the clear sunlight of the autumn afternoon, making for Dover.

Wearing his Panda-skin coat and a white silk turban in which was set a jewelled clasp supporting a spray of peacock feathers, Jerry stretched comfortably in his seat. He was disguised sufficiently to fool a casual observer and he hoped, too, that Karen von Krupp would not immediately recognize him for what he was.

Jerry saw the bright ruin of the silver bridge that had once spanned the sea between England and France and which had collapsed in a tangle of flashing strands shortly after it had been built. Above it a metal ornithopter wheeled.

Now he could see the sea ahead, the little blue waves glinting in the sun; and the road began to slope towards it. Jerry decelerated gradually, switching controls in the convertible until, when the road slid into the sea, the Phantom VI had become a speedboat.

Gracefully, and without slackening speed, the Rolls cut across the water and before long the outlines of the ring of ships could be seen. Jerry touched another control.

This was his first opportunity to try out the car's new feature, for which he had paid a hundred and fifty thousand marks.

There was a soft, muttering sound and the Rolls-Royce began to sink beneath the ocean. It was capable of submerging only a matter of feet and for short distances, but it would probably see him through.

His speed had decreased considerably now. He peered through the murky water, looking upwards, and soon saw the keels of the radio ships ahead. Their sonar was bound to detect him and they would begin dropping depth charges almost at once, but with luck they would detonate well below him and a vessel as small as his would be hard to pinpoint with any great accuracy.

They had a fix.

He saw the first charge plunge into the water on his right and fall towards the ocean bed.

Then another fell close to it, and another on his left, another behind him.

He watched them sink.

One by one the shock waves rose, threatening to blow him to the surface under the Yankee's guns.

The car rocked. Its forward course was deflected by a further series of shock waves.

Jerry kept firm control of the wheel, letting the car move with the waves, waiting until they had died before pressing on, beneath the ships' keels and beyond them.

More depth charges struck the water and floated down.

One of the blue steel cannisters brushed the side of the car and he swung violently away as, below him, it exploded, catching the rear and almost turning the Rolls end over end.

Jerry was thrown forward against the wheel. Another charge went off. The water was cloudy. He lost his bearings.