Brian Lumley - Necroscope - Invaders

Meanwhile Lardis had climbed the steps, leaned inside the chopper's open door, and was showing Miller his machete. 'Sharp as a razor/ he said. 'You could shave with this — except you'd get tired holding it up to your face. See these notches in the grip? Twenty-seven of 'em. Twenty-seven exec— er, excecu— er, killings, yes. And all of them were these "people" you seem so fond of. D'you know why I killed 'em?'

'Bloodthirsty old lunatic!' Miller hissed. 'Well, I don't know where you come from — what reservation? — but where I'm from we're educated and civilized. Don't try to threaten me. I don't give a.fuck for your big knife!' Which was more bluster, for anyone in his right mind would certainly give a fuck about Lardis's machete. And Miller's language was slipping, too.

In any case it was as if Lardis hadn't even heard him. 'I killed 'em 'cause they eat fat little girls like you/ he said. "Cause they're a contain— er, a contamin— er.. p>

'Contamination/ said Jake from the foot of the steps.

'Damn right!' Lardis nodded. He put the point of his machete up to Miller's neck inside the nylon seat belt, and continued, 'Now Ben Trask wants you to come down out of there. He was asking you nicely, because he believes in being diplomatic. But me, I don't.'

Miller tried to cringe away from the glittering blade, but his no in seat belt trapped him in position. 'Are you… do you dare to threaten me?' he gasped.

'Dare to threaten you?' said Lardis, his dark eyes narrowing to slits. 'Hell, no, "Mr" Miller! This isn't a threat but a promise. If you don't move your arse out of there, I'm going to cut your fucking ears off!' And he made a sudden slicing motion with his machete.

Miller screamed aloud, and for a moment Jake thought that Lardis really had cut him. But no, he'd sliced upwards and outwards, and his fine-honed blade had passed with scarcely a hiss through Miller's seat belt above the shoulder. Miller had been straining away from the Old Lidesci; freed from the safety harness, he jerked from his seat in that direction and fell to his hands and knees on the helicopter's floor. Lardis stepped over him, and while the little fat man was still off-balance grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and the seat of his pants to send him bouncing down the steps. It didn't take too much effort.

Miller's blubber saved him from any real hurt, but still he yelped as he hit the dirt; yelped yet again as Jake hoisted him to his feet — only to put him in an arm lock. 'Mr Trask is waiting for you/ Jake told the babbling fat man, as he frogmarched him in the direction of the Operations truck…

In Ops, Trask stood inside the oval control desk, speaking earnestly into a telephone. 'Yes, I appreciate the lateness of the hour… I understand perfectly, sir, and I agree entirely. But in this case I'm sure that only the highest authority will suffice… You may believe me when I tell you that this really is as important as your Minister for Internal Security has reported, a matter of the gravest security. I certainly wouldn't have had you brought from your bed for anything less… He's called Peter Miller, sir — that's "Mr" Miller — our so-called "local liaison". Not very helpful, sir, no. Indeed, completely hysterical, as I've said… That's what I would suggest, yes, absolutely… Until we're finished here, yes. That is, of course, if you're in agreement…? Confinement. I'm afraid so, yes. Oh, we have the means. But Miller — Mr Miller — is an Australian citizen, sir, and we're not. Which is why I need your…?'

Trask looked up, saw Miller's face throbbing with rage and 'righteous' indignation where Jake's hand was clamped over his mouth. The sight of the man, in no way pacified, seemed to convince Trask of the course he must take. And:

'Perhaps you'd like to have a word with him in person?' he continued into the phone. 'See for yourself, as it were?' With a nod and a grimace he passed the phone to Miller, at the same time indicating that Jake should release him.

Miller shook himself, reeled, and said, 'Eh? What?' Intent on freeing himself from Jake's grasp, he'd taken in very little of Trask's conversation with the unknown other.

But now Trask said, It's for you… someone who wants to know how you're keeping?'

'Bloody crazy Pommy bastards!' Miller raved. 'And who the hell is this, the Prime-bloody-Minister?' He snatched the telephone from Trask's hand, yelled, 'Whoever you are, the man you were speaking to is not a reasonable human being. He's fucking British, a fucking murderer, and I'm a God-fearing, completely innocent fucking Australian! This is my goddamned country, for Christ's sake, and I demand to speak to the police, to the military, to someone in authority, to…'

'… To the Prime-bloody-Minister, perhaps?' said Ben Trask, coolly examining his fingernails. And under his breath, to the others in the trailer: 'Lance Blackmore, whose platform slogan, if I remember correctly, was "Sanity, sobriety, and common decency in speech and spirit." Oh, and something else: he's decidedly pro-British!'

Miller's round face was suddenly wobbling, its colour visibly changing, paling. 'Eh?' he gulped. 'Do I what? Your voice? Do I recognize it?' Well, maybe he did… and maybe not. With his pig-eyes narrowing, he stared suspiciously at the phone — then at Trask — and spat, 'Some lousy fucking Pommy con man you are! And this is supposed to be Lance bloody Blackmore, right? Oh really? What, at two o'clock in the morning? After what I've seen and been through tonight, you expect me to believe that my own Prime Minister, the Australian Prime-bloody-Minister, would condone…?'

But the telephone was making loud noises in Miller's ear, and suddenly his face was floppily mobile again. For this time the owner of the now angry voice was fully awake and the voice itself unmistakable. As Miller's flabby mouth fell open, Trask took back the telephone and spoke into it. 'There you have it, Prime Minister. Now you know what we're up against.' And a moment later: 'Yes, certainly, I shall see to it myself. Physical restraint — house arrest, shall we say? — until we're through here? Thank you. And there will be a copy of my report on this phase of the operations on your desk by noon, yes. So far it's — looking good. My pleasure, sir. Thank you once again. And goodnight.' He put the 'phone down.

'It was him.'' Miller gasped, his mouth opening and closing like a stranded fish. 'It really was Lance Blackmoref Clenching his pudgy fists, he glowered at Trask: 'You duped him.' You even duped the Prime Minister.' Who the fuck are you people?'

Trask shook his head in disgust. 'Once your mind's made up it really is made up, isn't it, Miller?' 'That's Mr Miller—'

'Oh, shut the fuck up!' Trask was mad now. He reached over the desk, grabbed the fat man by the front of his sweaty shirt, bunched a fist and drew it back… then thought better of it. Instead he gave him a shove, sent him reeling back into Jake's arms. And before Miller could start up again:

'You're under arrest. If you protest too loudly I'll have you gagged. If you come on all physical I'll have you bound. If you attempt any interference with the work going on around you, I'll put you under constant surveillance by Lardis Lidesci. And if you're stupid enough to make another run for it, then you'd better be aware I'll deal with you… far more severely. Have I made myself clear?'

'Why, you… you!' Miller mouthed, his furious expression speaking volumes more than all of his frothing bluster. And so:

'When I turn you over to your Internal Security people in Perth tomorrow,' Trask went on, 'they'll read you the riot act, demand that you sign an Oath of Silence, give you to understand how very much in error you are, and generally threaten you with all sorts of dire things if you so much as mention anything you witnessed as our regional liaison person during this operation. And believe me, Miller, even if they can't make it stick I can. Don't for a moment think I'm going to forget the trouble you've put me to. And something else you should remember: in this modern world of ours distance isn't a problem. I'll be back in the UK shortly — I hope — but I have the longest arms in the world. And if I ever suspect that you're out there somewhere flapping those soft self-righteous lips of yours—'