Prisoner of Fire by Edmund Cooper

right. That’s a promise. Now, what do you know?”
    “Not very much, sir. Dr. Lindemann has asked me to do a lot of probing recently. It has made me very tired. I can’t seem to get the patterns right. Perhaps I will do better if I can have a good rest.”
    Ingram shot a despairing glance at Lindemann then turned to Dugal once more. “I’m sorry about that, Dugal. Dr. Lindemann is going to let you have a good rest after we have talked. Now, what do you know?”
    Dugalhesitated. “Please, sir, will Vanessa get into trouble?”
    Ingram patted his head. “No, laddie. We won’t do anything to make her unhappy. We want to make sure she is safe and well, that’s all. You see, she is important to us as well as to you. So we are all on the same side.”
    Dugal brightened. “I’m glad. Vanessa will be glad, too. I’ll send as soon as I can.”
    “You know where she is, boy?”
    “No, sir. But I know how she is. She is very hungry and very tired. I think she’s been ill. She doesn’t want to come back.”
    “How do you know?”
    “She told me.”
    Dr. Lindemann opened his mouth and looked as if he were about to explode. Ingram withered him with a glance.
    “She told you?”
    “Yes, sir. It was very weak, but she did send. Since then I have only heard music blocks… But I tried once when she must have been sleeping. There was frightening shapes in her mind. Somebody else was there, too. I felt him. Very cold… I got scared and came out.”
    Ingram, who understood little of telepathic processes, made the best of it he could. “You are sure there was someone else?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Can you describe him, tell us about him?”
    Dugal smiled. “You can’t describe a probe, sir. It’s warm or it’s cold, that’s all. This one was cold. Too cold.”
    “Too cold for what?”
    “Too cold to be good,” said Dugal innocently. “That is the way it was.”
    Ingramtried again. “The music. Can you tell us anything about that?”
    “The first time, it was very loud and with lots of bangs. They sounded like guns. I think I have heard it before, but I don’t know where.”
    “And the second time?”
    Dugal wrinkled his nose. “Oldies. Classic Pop. Country and Western. Folk. Even the Beatles. Terrible stuff. All out of the ark.”
    “Is that all you can tell us?”
    Dugal scratched his head. “I don’t know, sir. I’m not sure.”
    “What are you not sure about?”
    “I keep thinking about a man who has something wrong with his face.”
    “Is he connected with Vanessa? Does she know him?”
    “I don’t know, sir. Maybe it is just something I made up—you know, like a nightmare. I’ve been trying to reach Vanessa an awful long time…” A tear trickled down his face. “She doesn’t want to talk to me. Can I go, now? I’m very tired.”
    “Yes, son. Go and get some rest. Dr. Lindemann won’t need you at least until tomorrow.”
    Jenny Pargetter had just listened to the 1812 Overture for the third time. She didn’t know why, because it was not a piece of music she liked. It was too flashy, too naive. But when she heard it—particularly when the cannon started booming away—she derived a strange feeling of security. It was as if she needed the noise in order to be able to think freely. Which was plainly ridiculous. Thinking was best done without distraction. But, while she waited for Simon to comehome, she indulged herself idiotically by filling the room with sound.
    For once, he came home early. He kissed her, glanced at the stereo box, raised an eyebrow, and turned the volume down.
    “Love, how can you stand it?”
    Jenny looked at him, puzzled. “I don’t know, Simon. I don’t even like it. But it makes me feel good.”
    “May I turn it off?”
    She got up from the settee. “Yes. I don’t need it now that you are here.”
    “Why did you need it?”
    She seemed almost surprised by the question. “So that I could think. It provides a good background for thinking… Strange. I’d never