“A little loud!” The flustered nurse’s outrage was palpable. “It was more than music that was going on in here!”

  Oelefse spoke up, gesturing at the room. “Really, Herr Doktor, do you see anything amiss?”

  The duty physician scanned the room. “No. No, everything looks all right.” His eyebrows drew together and he gestured with a nod. “What are those?”

  As one, Cody and Oelefse’s eyes went to the two long objects resting crosswise on the foot of the bed. Rising from his seat, the old man picked them up, prepared to allow the doctor closer scrutiny should he be so inclined.

  “Gifts for my young friend here. He is an archaeologist, and as such interested in all manner of primitive objects.”

  The doctor stared a moment longer. Then he finally relaxed. “They’re very handsome. Indian? The metal one is, of course, a reproduction.” Behind him, the nurse glowered silently.

  “Of course. Ja, they are Indian. You are perceptive beyond your field, Herr Doktor.”

  Feeling good about himself and better about the situation, the physician smiled broadly. “Sorry to have bothered you, then. Please do try to keep the volume down in here, though. Our walls are reasonably well soundproofed, but they’re not impenetrable, and not all our patients are heavy metal fans. Especially some of the elderly ones. American or British band?”

  Oelefse gestured deferentially. “German, of course. Rammstein. I thought they might be especially efficacious in this case.”

  The doctor shook his head in amusement. “Heavy metal music. Now that’s a therapy I haven’t tried.” Favoring the bewildered nurse with a withering look of reproach, he turned and led the way out of the room. Relieved of any need to wrestle with recalcitrant visitors, the security men followed without comment.

  Cody let out a deep, inward sigh of relief. So preoccupied with the nurse’s report and then distracted by Oelefse’s colorful gear had the doctor been, he’d failed to notice the absence of a CD player, tape deck, or any other visible source of the sounds that the archaeologist had claimed as the “music” that had shaken the room. The older man began to break down the staff into its component parts to repack in the briefcase. He paused to inspect the scorched, marginally melted section of shaft, running a finger over it speculatively.

  “Donnerwetter. Very powerful infestation, this. Very, very strong,” he muttered under his breath.

  “What now? What happened?” Cody glanced helplessly down at his beloved. “Did any of that do any good? She doesn’t seem any better.”

  “Oh, but she is.” Carefully, Oelefse placed the rattle in his attaché. The archaeologist noted absently that the interior was equipped with customized holding straps, pockets, and slots designed to accommodate a wide variety of paraphernalia not usually found in such cases. The decorated and incised gourd-rattle fit neatly between an ultrathin laptop computer and a satellite telephone.

  “Is that a fact?” Cody cradled his wife’s limp hand. “Better how?”

  “She was suffering from a multiple infestation. Perhaps you saw, when I drew them out.”

  “I didn’t know what was going on.” Was Kelli’s pulse stronger? As he spoke, he let his fingers slide affectionately along her wrist. “Are you telling me you performed some sort of exorcism?”

  “That word conjures up all manner of irrelevant theological connotations. Rather say that I interfered on a metaphysical level with a number of the Interlopers abiding in your wife’s body. Through a combination of sounds produced by a variety of means I rendered them exceedingly uncomfortable.”

  Cody listened intently. “Okay, so you got them out. I don’t pretend to understand how, but you can fill me in on the details some other time. Where did they go?” He indicated the smooth, painted hospital walls. “There are no natural materials in here for them to make contact with, unless the wood in the walls would suffice. In which case,” he finished with a start, “they’re still here.”

  “They are not still here. There is very little wood in these walls. Like those of most large commercial structures, they are framed with steel. Having no accessible locus of human contact outside your wife’s body, and being unable in the absence of a suitable natural vector to find a way to enter ours, they were inescapably drawn back to their own world.”

  The archaeologist’s gaze narrowed. “Their world?”

  “One that exists in tandem with our own. Not parallel, as some theoreticians would have it, but thoroughly integrated. Even as we speak, parts of it are passing through this city, this room, our bodies. Think of a sheet of aluminum foil, crumpled into an irregular ball and then pierced with many long needles. The needles represent the world of the Interlopers. Portions of the needles penetrate and make contact with the aluminum sphere while others either stick out the sides or pass through air pockets within. Where folds of aluminum make contact with shafts of steel, congruency exists. All Interlopers can perceive our world, but only a few among us, those whose sight has been altered, can perceive them. As for their world, well, it is a place best not seen, not even by those who are prepared to do so.”

  Cody hesitated uncertainly. “By drawing these Interlopers out of Kelli’s body and sending them back to their world, you’ve cured her?”

  “Unfortunately, no. I have cured some, and seen it done by other members of the Society, but I am afraid that in this instance my best was not good enough. In your wife were abiding no less than seven different kinds—we do not say ‘species’—of Interlopers. As they were drawn from her I recognized Thalep, Ozixt, Horok, Jaquinq, Balemete, and Sagravht.”

  “That’s six,” Cody pointed out unnecessarily. “You said you recognized seven.”

  Rising from his chair, Oelefse walked forward until he was standing at the foot of the bed. Reaching out and down, he put a hand on Kelli Westcott’s blanketed ankle and squeezed gently. The softest of moans escaped her barely parted lips.

  “Uninivulk. Very bad one, very potent. Hard as I tried, I could not break its grip on your wife’s vitals. It is too strong, too tightly interwoven with her system. It is always hungry, always feeding. Frankly, I was surprised to see it co-existing with so many lesser of its virulent brethren. Usually a Uninivulk will not tolerate company.” Eyes brimming with sad wisdom rose to meet those of the anxious archaeologist. “They must hate you very much.”

  “It’s reciprocated.” Staring down at his wife, Cody tried to recall in detail the awful phantasm that had risen from her resting form to take a vicious, if ineffective swipe at the older man. It was living inside her, feasting on her discomfort, wallowing in her physical and mental suffering. He could do nothing about it. Without Oelefse’s intervention he could not even see it. And neither could the well-meaning physicians who came to check on her condition twice a day.

  “That is how I helped her.” Oelefse released the covered ankle and took a step back. “Though the worst of the Interlopers remains within, six have been expunged.” His expression twisted in wry amusement. “The next nurse or physician who checks the equipment that is monitoring her condition will be very surprised, and encouraged. The improvement is real, but any encouragement is false. For the moment, she is better: physically stronger, her body freed to do battle with the only one that still abides. Sometimes humans can fight off such infestations on their own, through sheer effort of will. That is how seemingly incurable victims of inexplicable illnesses suddenly manage to make full recoveries.” The slight smile evaporated.

  “That will not happen in your wife’s case. Not when her system is forced to deal with an abiding Uninivulk. I have never known of anyone infected by so virulent an Interloper to survive. She will be better for a little while. Then its presence, and feeding, will begin to take a toll on her temporarily reinvigorated system. She will again begin to fail, to start on the inevitable, slow descent into paralysis, and death.”

  Cody could barely control his response. “Then you didn’t help her very much after all, did you? All that happened here was that you postponed the inevitable.”

  “It is only inevitable if we do nothing, and if the Uninivulk is allowed to continue feeding unchallenged. I said that I had never known anyone infected by that variety of Interloper to have survived. I did not say that survival was impossible. There are things that can be tried.” His eyes bored into the younger man’s. “It will be dangerous. You must trust me implicitly and do everything exactly as I say.”

  “Tell me what I have to do.” Cody responded without hesitation. “Just don’t expect me to trust your driving.”

  “Good! You can still joke. Remember always how much the Interlopers hate that.” Turning, he walked back to his chair and closed the briefcase. Multiple locks snapped shut. “First, you must hire someone to watch over your wife around the clock.”

  The archaeologist frowned. “Isn’t that the responsibility of the hospital staff?”

  “I can see that you have never had to spend much time in hospitals. Staff carry out their assignments, and little more. Nurses will bring your wife new bags of nutrients, will check her vital signs manually to back up the work of the machines, and will keep her clean. Doctors will make brief checks on her condition as part of their scheduled rounds. The rest of the time, she will lie here like this. Alone.” He indicated the door.

  “Reflect a moment on the adverse possibilities. Late at night, a lackey of Those Who Abide enters. He is not noticed, not challenged. He carries a canvas sack containing several large stones, or pieces of wood brought from the forest. He lays these on your wife’s helpless body. Each stone and piece of wood contains—”

  “All right, all right: I get the picture. I’ll see that she gets twenty-four-hour care.”

  “We will see that she does. We must make certain that whatever agency you use, whoever you hire, is Interloper-free. It is not a difficult thing to do, but it must be done. Then, and only then, you and I must make a little trip.”

  “Where to? Drugstores? Someplace that can only be found in a bigger city? It’s not far to L.A.”

  “If we are to help your wife survive to see another birthday, I am afraid we must roam farther than that. You have done much work in Peru. May I therefore assume that your passport is in order?”

  Twelve

  To Cody’s surprise, saying goodbye to his wife while she lay unconscious and entirely unresponsive turned out to be far more difficult than it had ever been when she was alert and mindful. At such times she would always make some little joke to lighten the atmosphere of farewell. This time there was no quip to send him off. It was usually Kelli who would choose the moment for a passionate, parting kiss. This time there was no passion. It was his wife who always had to have the last wave goodbye. This time he was the one in control of the moment. When it came, he did not want to whisper the joke, bestow the kiss, or flash the wave. He did not want to do any of those things, because he didn’t want to leave. Especially after the confrontation that had all but consumed the hospital room several days earlier.

  He had no choice in the matter, he knew. If he was going to restore her, he had to follow Oelefse’s orders, and following those orders meant accompanying the older man back to Europe. It meant leaving Kelli behind, not laughing and absorbed in her own research as had been the case on similar previous occasions, but lying in bed motionless and unaware, more helpless than any kitten.

  At least she would not be completely alone. After Oelefse had thoroughly vetted the security company’s background and run his own unique brand of surreptitious checks on its staff, Cody hired security personnel to be with Kelli around the clock. Though puzzled, they offered no objections to the strictures the archaeologist and his elderly friend placed on their movements, and on who should be allowed to have contact with the patient. In the absence of a perceiver like Cody himself, this setup was not perfect. But it was better than leaving Kelli exposed and vulnerable to whoever might wander in off the street.

  Even when all that could be done had been done and there was nothing left to do, he was reluctant to leave her side. From the doorway, Oelefse’s voice chided him gently.

  “We have to go, Cody. You can do nothing for her here.” The older man checked the Patek Phillipe on his wrist. “We will miss our flight.”

  “I’m coming.” Rising from the edge of the bed, the distraught archaeologist leaned over to gently press his lips against his wife’s. Each time he did so, he hoped, and each time those hopes were dashed. A sleeping beauty Kelli might be, but it was going to take more than a lover’s kiss to awaken her from the contaminated slumber into which she had fallen.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Westcott.” Seated at the other side of the bed, a middle-aged, balding concrete block of a man put down the novel he had been reading long enough to offer a reassuring smile. The ex-cop’s belly might have gone to flab, but there was nothing wrong with his mind or his reflexes. “My outfit’s used to this kind of work, though we’re usually hired to watch over injured criminals awaiting transport to jail.” He glanced down at Kelli. “Ain’t nobody gonna mess with her while me or one of my buddies is here.”

  Cody could only nod. Lately he had been reduced to nodding a great deal. It left him feeling dead in the water, as if he was neither going forward nor retreating but instead had become trapped in time, a fly in molasses reduced to wriggling helplessly in place.

  The mere act of turning away from the bed, not knowing when he might see her again, not knowing if she would even be alive by the time he returned, made him feel as if he were trying to move a parked truck with his bare hands.

  All the way through the hospital he kept wanting to turn around and go back, convinced he had forgotten something, wanting to hold her in his arms one more time, desperate to brush his mouth across her lips and cheeks and forehead in the event she could sense such contact. Not wanting to leave. Then they were striding through the entrance atrium on their way out of the hospital.

  He was compelled to endure more of Oelefse’s driving, but it was a mercifully short ride from the hospital in Scottsdale to the airport. They were not challenged on the way, or subsequent to their arrival. The older man was quick to explain that airports were comparatively secure places, islands of safety in a world alive with Interlopers. Except for the occasional sculpture of wood or stone, everything about them was man-made and therefore unsuitable as a vector for the intruders. Having spent his fair share of time in airports, Cody had always decried their artificiality. Now he embraced it.

  It struck him that in agreeing to follow Oelefse’s directives blindly, he had neglected to ask even the most basic questions. Such as . . .

  “Where in Europe are we going? Germany, to seek the help of your Society?”

  “Close, my young friend, but not quite. What we seek lies near to there. I would make the slight detour to show you our library, to introduce you to my colleagues, but time is precious. That friendship and those books will always be there. It is your wife we must be concerned with now.”

  Cody could not have responded better himself. “Where, then?” His elderly companion held their tickets, which he had not seen.

  “Have you ever been to Austria?”

  Austria! Land of Mozart and pastry, fine crystal and alpine skiing. “No. My work has only taken me to South America, remember.”

  “Then this deficiency in your traveling experience is about to be rectified. Though,” Oelefse added somberly, “I am afraid there will be little time to sample the delights of that enchanting country. No whipped cream for us, my young friend. No raisin brot, no sachertorte, no kaiserschmarrm. We go in search of blue leaves.”

  “Blue leaves?” A methodical, barely intelligible feminine voice was calling their flight. Hefting his carry-on, Cody trailed his guide closely, not wanting to lose him in the milling crowd.

  “Ilecc leaves. Does your wife like tea?”

  The flight was full: noisy and busy all the way to New York. From there it was nonstop all the way to Vienna. After overnighting at a hotel connected directly to the airport terminals, Cody once more had to suffer Oelefse’s driving as they made their way northwest to Salzburg.

  “Why Salzburg?” As the archaeologist spoke he was staring out the window at the increasingly mountainous Austrian countryside.

  “It is an ancient and traditional point of congruency.” As always, both of the German’s hands were firmly affixed to the steering wheel. His eyes never strayed from the road ahead. “There is a rock there. For some reason, large and distinctive rocks are often the loci of such places. It is as if they were buttons, tying together both halves of a sweater. Only in this instance, our rock fastens together two different dimensions of the same world.”

  “What happens if the rock gets moved?” Cody inquired only half-jokingly. “Do the two pieces of the world come apart?”

  A small smile of amusement creased Oelefse’s face. At such moments he looked, Cody decided, like a mischievous watchmaker who repaired cuckoo clocks during the day while quietly assembling an atom bomb in his basement at night.

  “In the case of this particular rock that is not a concern, my friend. You will understand when you see it.”

  It was midafternoon when they entered the old city, a gabled knot of steeples and towers and many-windowed stone buildings. The presence of so much stone unnerved Cody, but Oelefse knew ways through the often narrow, shop-lined streets that allowed them to avoid the attention of local Interlopers.

  The German was right in his assertion that the rock in question was in no danger of being picked up and moved. The old city ringed it like a necklace, individual buildings set like faceted gemstones at its base. A flat-topped Gibraltar, it dominated the town and the surrounding terrain; a massive, sheer-sided mass of solid gray-white granite hundreds of feet high. Resting atop this majestic monolith and occupying the entire plateau was the enormous and imposing fortress of Hohensalzburg, ancient home of dozens of kings and rulers of this part of the world.