For the first time Krakovitch noticed that his eyes had a glazed look。 He had helped load his truck's awful cargo。 Never ask that sort of question；〃 Krakovitch told him。 〃In fact as long as you're here…which will probably be a long； long time…don't ask any questions。 Just do as you're told。〃
They loaded the cans of Avgas just inside the truck's tailgate and drove to a wooded corner of the Chateau's the Chateau itself that the tank did go； and by then the truck was a blazing shell anyway。 Hearing the thunderous roar and feeling something of its concussion； they looked back。 Cab and chassis and superstructure had all flown apart； bits of blazing debris were falling in the snow； a mushroom of smoke shot with flame was uncurling itself high over the trees。 It was done。。。
Krakovitch spoke for some time on the telephone to his go…between； an anonymous voice which seemed hardly interested in what he was saying； yet precise and cutting as a razor when its owner required more information。 He finished off by saying： 〃Oh； and I've a new assistant here； a Sergeant Sergei Gulharov； from the supply and transport barracks in Serpukhov。 I'm keeping him on。 Can you get him permanently posted to the Chateau； as of now？ He's young and strong and I'll have plenty of work for him。〃
〃Yes； I'll do that；〃 came the cool； clear answer。 〃He'll be your odd…job man； you say？〃
〃And my bodyguard；〃 said Krakovitch； 〃eventually。 I'm not much physically。〃
〃Very well。 I'll check out the chances of getting him on a military close protection course。 Weapons； too； if he's not up to scratch。 Of course； we could take a shortcut and get you a professional。。。〃
〃No；〃 Krakovitch was firm。 〃No professionals。 This one will do。 He's fairly innocent and I like that。 It's refreshing。〃
〃Krakovitch；〃 said the voice on the other end； 〃I need to know this。 Are you a homosexual？〃
〃Of course not！ Oh！ I see。 No； I need him genuinely…and he looks about as gay as a shipyard welder！ I'll tell you why I want him right now…because I'm alone here。 And if you were here you'd know what I mean。〃
〃Yes； I'm told you've had to weather quite a lot。 Very well； leave it with me。〃
Thank you；〃 said Krakovitch。 He broke the connection。
Gulharov was impressed。 〃Just like that；〃 he said。 〃You have a lot of power； sir。〃
〃It seems that way； doesn't it？〃 Krakovitch smiled tiredly。 〃Listen； I'm dead on my feet。 But there's one more thing to do before I can sleep。 And let me tell you； if you think what you've seen so far is unpleasant； what you're about to see is far worse！ e with me。〃
He led the way through the chaos of shattered rooms and piled rubble； from the covered…in courtyard area into the main； original building； then up two flights of time…hollowed stone stairs into one of the twin towers。 This was where Gregor Borowitz had had his office； which Dragosani had turned into his control room on the night of the horror。
The stairwell was scarred and blackened； with tiny fragments of shrapnel； flattened lead bullets and copper cases lying everywhere。 The stink of cordite was still heavy in the air。 That would be from blast grenades； tossed down here from above when the tower came under attack。 But none of this had stopped Harry Keogh and his Tartars。 On the second floor landing the door to a tiny anteroom stood open。 The room had served as an office for Borowitz's secretary； Yul Galenski。 Krakovitch had known him personally： a generally timid man； a clerk with no extrasensory talent。 Just staff。
Between the open door and the stairwell's safety rail； face down on the landing； lay a corpse in the Chateau's duty uniform： grey coveralls with a single diagonal yellow stripe across the heart。 Not Galenski （he had been a 〃civvies only〃 man） but the Duty Officer。 The corpse's face lay quite flat on the floor in a pool of blood。 Flatter than it should。 That was because there was very little of actual face left； just a raw flat mess。
Krakovitch and Gulharov stepped carefully over the body； entered the little office。 Behind a desk； crumpled in one corner； Galenski sat clutching a rusty curved sword where it stuck out of his chest。 It had been driven home with such force that he was pinned to the wall。 His eyes were still open； but no longer terrified。 From some people； death steals all emotion。
〃Mother in heaven！〃 Gulharov whispered。 He'd never seen anything like this。 He wasn't even a bat soldier； not yet。
They went through a second door into what had been Borowitz's office。 It was spacious； with great bullet…proof bay windows looking out and down from the tower's curving stone wall toward distant woodland。 The carpet was burned and stained here and there。 A massive block of a desk in solid oak stood in one corner； receiving light from the windows and protection from the stone wall at its back。 As for the rest of the room： it was a shambles…and a nightmare！
A shattered radio spilled its guts onto the floor； walls were pockmarked and the door splintered from the impact of sprayed bullets； the body of a young man in Western styled clothes lay where it had fallen； ripped by machine gun fire； almost in two pieces behind the door。 It was glued to the floor with its own blood。 This was Harry Keogh's body： nothing much to look at； but there was no fear or pain on his white； unmarked face。
As for the nightmare： that lay propped against the wall on the other side of the room。
〃Boris Dragosani；〃 said Krakovitch； pointing。 〃The thing pinned to his chest is what controlled him； I think。〃 He stepped carefully across the room to stand gazing down on what was left of Dragosani and his parasite creature； Gulharov was right behind him； not wanting to get too close。
Both of Dragosani's legs were broken and lay at weird angles。 His arms hung slack down the wall to the skirting； elbows just off the floor； forearms at ninety degrees and hands projecting well beyond the cuffs of his jacket。 They were hands like claws； big； powerful and grasping； frozen in Dragosani's final spasm。 His face was a rictus of agony； made worse by the fact that it was hardly a human face at all； and worse still by the gash that split his skull ear to ear。
But his face！
Dragosani's jaws were long as some great hound's； gaping open to display curving needle teeth。 His skull was misshapen； and his ears were pointed where they curved forward and lay flat against his temples。 His eyes were ruptured red pits above a nose long and wrinkled and flattened to show gaping nostrils； like the convoluted snout of some great bat。 That was how he looked： part man； part wolf； part bat。 And the thing pinned to his chest was worse。
〃What 。 。 ； what is that？〃 Gulharov gasped out the question。
〃God help me； Krakovitch shook his head； 〃I don't know！ But it lived in him。 I mean； inside him。 It only came out at the end。〃
The trunk of the thing had the form of a great leech some eighteen inches long； but tapering to a tail。 There were no limbs； it seemed to cling to Dragosani's chest by suction； and was held there by a sharp stake formed of the splintered hardwood stock of a heavy…duty machine gun； its skin was grey…green； corrugated。 Gulharov saw that its head； flat and cobra…like…but eyeless； blind…lay on the carpet a little apart。
Like。。。 like some gigantic tapeworm？〃 Gulharov's horror was plain on his face。
〃Something like that；〃 Krakovitch nodded grimly。 〃But intelligent； evil； and deadly。〃
〃Why have we e up here？〃 Gulharov's Adam's apple bobbed。 〃There are fifty million better places to be。〃
Krakovitch's face was white； pinched。 He could fully appreciate Gulharov's feelings。 〃We've e up here because we have to burn this； that's why。〃 His talent again； warning him that both Dragosani and his symbiont must be destroyed； utterly。 He looked around； saw a tall steel filing cabinet standing against the wall to one side of the door。 He and Gulharov tore out the shelving； turning the cabinet into a metal coffin。 They lowered it onto its back and dragged it across the floor to Dragosani。
〃You take his shoulders； I'll take his thighs；〃 said Krakovitch。 〃Once we've got him in here we can close the door and slide the cabinet down the steps。 Frankly； I don't fancy touching him。 I'll touch him as little as possible。 This way has to be best。〃
They gingerly lifted the corpse； strained to get it over the rim of the cabinet； lowered it inside。 Gulharov went to close the door and the projecting stake got in the way。 He grasped the splintered stock in both hands…and the mental warning hit Krakovitch like a fist in his heart！
〃Don't touch that！〃 he yelled； but too late。
As Gulharov wrenched the stake free； so the leech…thing…headless as it was…came alive。 Its hideous slug…like body began to lash in a frenzy； so that it almost ejected itself from the cabinet。 At the same time its leathery skin broke open in a dozen places； putting out protoplasmic tentacles that writhed and vibrated in a sort of mindless agony。 These pseudopods whipped out； struck the sides of the cabinet and recoiled； settled on Dragosani's body。 They passed through clothing and dead flesh and burrowed into him。 More of them sprouted from the main body； they formed barbs； hooked themselves into Dragosani's flesh。 One of the tentacles f