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from where the gunman held them at bay。 He tightened his coat collar around his neck against the drenching rain。
'In the mood for target practice； Georgie？' he asked when the two men reached him。
'Always； sir；' came the answer； as all three moved in close to be heard over the storm。 'What's the problem？'
'We're being refused admittance。 You see the Mercedes parked in line with the porch？ You'll have a clear view of the house doorway from the rear passenger seat； or at least you can see some of it in the darkness…our friend appears to have switched off some lights。 The vehicle's ours； so use your spare key if it's locked。'
'How much damage？'
'Just hit the bugger。' Mather limped away； followed by the second operative who crouched low and used the Mercedes as a screen to reach the opposite side of the porch。 The man named Georgie doubled over also； going to the car and trying the doorhandle。 Halloran must have left it in one hell of a rush； he thought； when he discovered the doors were unlocked。 The keys were in the ignition。 Georgie switched on the system； then crawled over to the backseat and pressed the button to lower the passenger window。 lie raised the Browning； keeping it clear of the rain that spattered in； and waited。
He watched as the operative with Mather crawled on his belly into the tunnel； keeping to the shadow of one wall。 The Planner reached inside with his cane to tap the floor； hoping to attract the attention of their quarry。
It worked。 Georgie squeezed the Browning's trigger as flame flashed from the doorway ahead。 All he heard was the bark of his own weapon； but he assumed Phil； inside the porch； had fired at the same time； aiming slightly left of the gunflash。 They waited a few seconds then； as lightning seared and thunder shook the sky； he saw Mather rush inside； Phil rising to acpany him to the doorway。 He bundled out of the car； taking up position on the opposite side of the porch to his other colleague； their weapons pointing inwards at the entrance。
Mather pushed the door back further and flicked the Armalite away from the motionless gunman with his cane。 Soft light from an open door across the spacious hall and from the landing above lit the area and Mather breathed a sigh of relief when he ascertained that no one else guarded the main doors。 Rushing forward like that so soon after the enemy was hit had been a calculated risk； but it had saved some time。
Mather pointed at the slumped figure with his cane。 'Check him； then send one of the others after me while you search upstairs。' He was already limping across the hall making for the lit doorway as he gave the orders。
He entered a corridor at the end of which was a door swaying with the draught that blew in from outside； rain puddling the floor beneath it。 He hurried forward glancing into other open doorways as he passed。
From ahead； Mather thought he heard a scuffling。
Palusinski came out into the courtyard； the pounding rain wele on his face and head； even though huge droplets spattered his glasses and distorted his vision。 Lightning pearled everything before him； dazzling him through the water…spots on his lenses so that he blinked rapidly。 Whipping off the spectacles； the movement acpanied by a peal of thunder； he hurried across the flagstones。 The Pole had no desire to find his way through Kline's private rooms in order to reach the main doors of the house： this way was more direct and the sooner he was away from the madness inside Neatly the better he would like it。 His own acute sense of survival told him some kind of reckoning was at hand for Kline moj Pan； oh Lord and Master！…and he； Janusz Palusinski； did not want to be around for the consequences。
But as he passed the centre fountain； a burning liquid sprayed his face。
When he stopped to brush at the stinging with his hand； he felt a stickiness on his cheek。 He could feel it eating into his skin。 He peered short…sightedly at the fountain and there seemed to be shapes contorting from the stonework； rising from the brimming basin； writhing among the ornamentation。
Palusinski uttered a startled cry and began to back away。 Gowno！ This couldn't be！ The fountain was a dead thing； defunct； slimed and blocked； an extinct spring！ Yet he could discern a bubbling outflow catching reflections from window lights around the yard。 And liquid dribbled sluggishly from the carved spouts which； in their decay； resembled gargoyles。 And these monsters themselves were moving； twisting as if to tear themselves free from the stonework； hatching from wombs of masonry； spitting their bile of burning substance； the whole structure gushing unnatural life。
Palusinski slipped as he turned to run； his knees smacking sickeningly against the flagstones。 His spectacles flew from his grasp； one lens cobwebbing fine cracks as it struck。
The Pole scrabbled away on hands and knees； too much in haste to search for his broken glasses； and too afraid to look back at the quivering fountain。 He sobbed when something touched his leg； a curling caress that somehow scorched even though there was no firmness； no strength in its grip。 He pushed himself up； moving forward all the time； blundering towards the open doorway on the other side of the courtyard where light was shining outwards。
He blinked away wetness。 There was someone else in the corridor； limping towards him。 Palusinski reacted instinctively and with his natural sense of self…preservation。 He drew out the metal bar he always carried inside his coat and launched himself at the advancing figure。
Mather noted the crazed wildness in the other man's eyes； and saw light catching the shiny weapon being raised； ready to strike。 He came to a halt and pointed his cane at the bald man's chest。
Palusinski sneered at the other's ineffectual weapon； realising there was nothing to fear in this old man confronting him； the only real terror being out there in the courtyard and the underground chamber he had just left。 He grabbed the end of the cane and pulled it towards himself； sure that it would be easy to wrench it from the frail grasp。 The metal bar had reached its zenith； was trembling in his hand； ready to plunge downwards against the man's skull。 He barely heard the faint click。
Mather had pressed the tiny button in the cane's handle and the wooden casing slid from the long； slender blade； his would…be assailant unsheathing the sword himself。 The Shield Planner took no chances； for he could see the murder in this wildman's eyes。
He lunged forward； the sword piercing the bald man's chest； melting through； entering his heart and still not stopping。
Palusinski looked in surprise at the other man。 The pain only came when the sword was swiftly withdrawn。
He sank to the floor； a casual gesture as if he merely wanted to rest for a moment。 Janusz Palusinski lay down and； as his mind wandered towards death； he felt he was among other recumbent bodies。 He was no longer inside the corridor of the house； but in the dimly lit but a long； long way from there； and a long time ago。
Those skeletal forms around him were sitting up and grinning their wele； for they had been waiting many