"They're not rumors. I believe I told you—"

"I know," Jack said, slowing and stopping as he passed the window. "I know you told me." He pointed out toward the Park. "Thousands of those holes? Thousands of them?"

"I'm afraid so."

"What's going to keep one from opening up right under your building here and swallowing it up?"

"I doubt very much that will happen. That would be too quick—mercifully quick. The power behind these holes wants me to witness the death-throes of civilization before he comes for me. Besides, those holes cannot open just anywhere. They must locate at specific nexus points in order to connect with the…other place."

" 'The other place?' Sounds like seance talk."

"I don't know how else to explain it."

"But with swarms of those things pouring out from this 'other place' through thousands of holes, the whole planet will be overrun. I'm sure we can find ways to exterminate the bugs, but—"

"The belly flies and chew wasps are just the first wave. Worse things are on the way."

Jack was shaking his head slowly back and forth as he stared out the window.

"What could be worse than those little horrors last night?"

"Bigger horrors. But only during the hours of darkness. They must return to the holes before sunrise."

"Swell. I mean, that's a big comfort, isn't it, what with sunrise coming later and later each morning." Finally, he looked away from the window. "You said something before about 'the power behind these holes.' What did you mean? That somebody's in control here—causing the holes?"

"Yes. His name is Rasalom."

"Where do we find this guy? How can I get to him?"

"He won't be found unless he wishes to be. And he's not subject to your brand of solutions. You can't 'fix' him or undo his work by conventional means."

Jack held up the folded drawings of the necklaces.

"What about these? You're telling me these necklaces will help close up the holes?"

"They'll give us a chance. Without them we might as well quit right now."

"All right," Jack said, shoving them into the back pocket of his jeans. "Sounds crazy to me, but crazy seems to be in charge these days."

"Very true. But don't go yet. There are some people I want you to meet."

"The guy who didn't show up yesterday?"

"No. He had to accompany a sick friend to a hospital. I don't think he'll be back today."

Bill had called last night to explain his absence and to relate what had befallen his friend Nick. Glaeken had told him to do whatever he thought best for his friend.

But another call had come this morning—from Sylvia Nash. She told him what had transpired at her house last night. Glaeken had been shaken by the news. He had expected Rasalom's forces to home in on the Dat-tay-vao eventually, but not so soon. Certainly not on the first night. The news increased the sense of urgency simmering within him.

Mrs. Nash had wanted him to come out to Monroe and see the damage, but Glaeken had refused. He wanted her—no, not her, the boy—here where he could watch over him and protect him and the Dat-tay-vao residing within him. With obvious reluctance, she had agreed to meet him here today.

"I must tend to my wife for a few moments," he told Jack. "If the doorman announces a Mrs. Nash or a Mrs. Treece, tell him to send them up."

Jack tore his gaze away from the window. He seemed mesmerized by the hole in the Park.

"What? Oh, sure. You go do what you have to do. I'll take care of things."

Glaeken headed for Magda's room. He knew Repairman Jack was very good at taking care of things.

WXRK-FM

We've had a lot of requests for this next record here on K-Rock's All-Request Weekend. I guess it has something to do with what happened last night.

Cue: "The Night Has A Thousand Eyes"

"Maybe you'd better call and cancel us out of this little meeting," Hank said.

Carol glanced at him across the bedroom as she finished buttoning her blouse. He'd tested the lock on the bedroom window for the dozenth time, and now he was craning his neck this way and that, his quick hazel eyes scanning the street below and the sky above.

"We can't," she said. "It's too important."

Glaeken had called her early this morning and asked her to come over and meet the others who would be involved in his countermove against Jimmy.

No! Not Jimmy—Rasalom!

"I don't think it's safe. That's over by Central Park."

"Mr. Veilleur said we have nothing to fear in the daylight."

Hank quickly ran a hand through the thinning light-brown hair that he combed straight back from his receding hairline. That plus his prominent nose tended to give him a hawkish appearance. Carol had been trying to get him to soften his hairstyle. He'd comply for a while, then revert to his old ways. He'd been a bachelor for forty-five years when they met. She had no real hope of changing him into someone with a sense of style, but that didn't mean she'd stop trying. She liked challenges.

"Nothing to fear in the daylight? And what makes this Mr. Veilleur so sure about that when one renowned scientist after another claims to be completely baffled by that hole and these creatures?"

"He knows," Carol said. "Believe me, he knows."

"I don't like this, Carol," Hank said, wandering the tiny bedroom with his hands thrust deep into his pockets. "With all the awful things going on out on the streets, it seems to me the prudent thing to do would be to stay inside until everything's under control."

Carol shook her head and smiled softly as she pulled a skirt from its hanger in her closet. That was Hank, always weighing the pros and cons, measuring the liabilities, gaging the hazards to find the course of action with the lowest risk-benefit ratio. Always safe and sane, always planning ahead, that was Hank. And there was nothing wrong with that.

No…nothing wrong with that at all. Carol needed safe and sane in her life. She needed someone nearby who planned for the future. It helped Carol believe that there was going to be a future, and that it mattered.

Hank was so different from Jim. Her first husband had been a writer, living day to day, doing things on impulse, earning hangovers. Spontaneity and intemperance were not part of Hank's repertoire.

And yet there was much to be said for staid and stable. Her marriage to Hank might lack the heat and passion of her relationship with Jim, but it did have warmth and trust and companionship, and she needed those right now.

"I can't put it off," Carol said. "It's got to be this morning. There are people there he wants me to meet, and I want you to meet him and the others."

He looked at her. "You're determined to go, aren't you."

"Hank, I've got to."

"Well, I'm certainly not letting you travel across town alone today. So I guess we'll be paying a visit on Mr…"

"Veilleur. But he likes to be called Glaeken. And Bill Ryan will be there, so it won't be as if you won't know anybody."

"He's involved in this too? How long have you been meeting this Veilleur or Glaeken fellow? And why does it all have to be so mysterious? Why can't you tell me more about it?"

"I'm going to tell you all about it. I—I haven't told you everything about my past and I think it's high time you knew."

Hank stepped in front of her and gently slipped his arms around her.

"You don't have to worry about me. Nothing you can say will change how I feel about you."

"I hope so." I hope you can handle what's coming.

"But why can't you tell me first?"

"Because I want you to have the big picture first before I tell you my part in it. Glaeken knows more about it and can explain it better than I can." He was there when it all started. "He knows who's behind those things that came out of the Central Park hole last night."