sometimes got it wrong, but that just gave her the data she needed to update her catalog and/or modify her algorithm. "I believe it's due to a combination of spacial dynamics and quantum harmonics. Do you understand those terms?"
"Better than you."
She didn't take offense; he was either right or delusional, and she couldn't change either. "The orientation of the puzzle pieces is analogous to a lock and bolt on a door, while the music acts as the key. As each piece is removed, the local interdimensional barrier is weakened and distorted, establishing the bridge, essentially a stable traversable wormhole. The music harmonizes with the quantum signature of your realm, thereby both anchoring the bridge to that realm and stabilizing its structure. Once the box is disassembled, the bridge is completed and the connection is opened, allowing crossover. The only thing I haven't yet figured out is how the puzzle box manipulates the spacial dynamics of local space-time, but I suspect it acts as a form of Schrodinger wavefunction generator, manipulating the values of the spacial parameters in a specific sequence identical to the pattern of the puzzle pieces."
His expression betrayed minor shock. "Impressive. Your ingenuity is most commendable."
She shrugged. "It was an elementary problem, hardly much of a challenge. However, I am curious about certain things. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?"
"No. Ask your questions."
"What is your realm like?"
"Many call it 'hell', but only because the devotions we practice seem hellish to those unable to endure them. It is actually an endless, three-dimensional labyrinth in a stormy void, filled with tinkling music, vast black birds caught in the perpetual tempests, ringing bells, and troubled darkness."
Poetic, but not very illuminating. "Who, or what, are you and your colleagues?"
"We are hierophants, the Theologians of the Order of the Gash."
"So you are a religious organization?"
"In a manner of speaking. Some call us angels, others demons, and some call us both at once. We merely see ourselves as explorers."
Curiouser and curiouser. "What do you explore?"
"The limits of sensation."
"How?"
"By performing experiments in the extreme reaches of pleasurable experience."
Fascinating! "Is that what you use your victims for, as guinea pigs for conducting tests?"
"You make it sound like we are cold, unfeeling automatons questing after some unobtainable Ultimate Truth."
Typical misconception of a scientist and his duties. "I was not judging your actions, merely describing them. Though what you and I do is not all that different."
"In methods, perhaps not, but not in motive. All you seek are answers to questions; that alone you find sufficiently satisfying to justify your existence. What we seek, and offer to others, is the ultimate in hedonistic experience."
"Through torture."
"We have found that the greatest pleasures derive from enduring excruciating pain. Our devotions bring us and our subjects to the most painful of sensory overloads, then go beyond to expand sensation into areas never before imagined."
If that's true, then... "That reminds me. If I solved the puzzle, knowing that you and the other Cenobites would cross over, would you take me despite my lack of desire for pleasure or pain?"
He shook his head. "No. We bring about conditions of the nerve endings the likes of which your imagination, however fevered, could not hope to evoke. Your artificial superstructure and naked brain have no nerves; they would not allow you to experience the full ecstatical essence of our devotions. More damning still, your soul is neither bright nor dark, but dim, like a featureless gray mist at twilight. It holds no passion, no fire, only cold ashes and dry bones. Such could never appreciate or comprehend the revelation we offer. You would make a mockery of our most sacred rituals."
She suppressed a chuckle, which earned her a frown. "Oh, forgive me, but I've never believed in souls, and I've achieved immortality by copying my consciousness and recording it onto artificial brains."
"No mortal can feel her own soul, but it is the essence of sensation and experience; without it there can be neither."
"This is Sir Differel Van Helsing." Her voice came over the intercom, forestalling Mabuse's reply. "While conducting an inventory of Secure Storage Vault C a week ago, Team Girl discovered a Lemarchand box, specifically the Lament Configuration. Someone in my house has opened it, with the end result that we have been invaded by the Cenobites. Fortunately, we have located another box, the Elysium Configuration, which can drive the Cenobites back to their realm. Vlad has retrieved it and it is being kept in the conference room for the time being. However, before we activate it, I am ordering the manor evacuated for everyone's protection. Please assemble in your designated locations and await further instructions. Sir Differel out."
Pinhead had been staring at the ceiling throughout the announcement, but when she finished he glanced at the mad scientist. "She is cleverer than I first assumed. Her plan has a good chance of succeeding."
"You're not concerned?"
"The Elysium Configuration is not here. If it were, we would feel it. She hopes to draw out the one who brought the Lament Configuration into this house."
He turned and approached his colleagues. "Come; we are close to securing our quarry."
The handheld device signaled her. She took it out of the pocket and looked at it; the analysis of the data was complete.
"If you can give me a couple of minutes, I'd be honored to escort you to the conference room."
Pinhead regarded her with an arrogant half smile. "You may have a couple of minutes, Doctor."
"Thank you." She activated the simulator app and tapped out a request for the parameters calculated from the data. She smiled as the information scrolled across the screen. Everything needed to produce the effect was ready. She began tapping out instructions. She had the Cenobites by the balls, or whatever. All she needed was time for the computer to run through the calculations to set up the simulation.
She just hoped there would be enough.
Differel sat in the cloak room off the conference room, watching a liquid crystal display screen. It had a fiberscope attached to it, the other end of which she had screwed into a peephole in the door. The cloak room had been used for spying for as long as it had been in existence, going all the way back to old Abraham Van Helsing, especially since it provided access to the secret stairwell behind her, but thanks to modern technology no one had to stand and peer through the hole for hours on end anymore. On top of that, the fiberscope was one of Mabuse's inventions, providing high definition full colour images as well as infrared, low-light, and computer enhancement.
She kept an eye on a gilt-edged white enamel box sitting on the huge table. That was the Elysium Configuration, except it wasn't. It was a fake, hastily constructed by the mechanics in the paramilitary compound. They had cut it close; only ten minutes remained before Pinhead's deadline. Sharona's plan seemed virtually foolproof, but it might take time to work. She just hoped that she could get an extension if needed.
The door to the room from the transverse hall opened, and in walked a young maid. She didn't recognize her, and she figured she might be new. She waited as the girl looked around, as if making sure she was alone, then deliberately went for the box.
Differel pushed open the cloak room door and stepped out. "Is there something I can help you with?"
The girl had reached out to grasp the box, and she jumped at her voice. She took a few steps backwards, then turned to hurry out, but Holt came through the open door with a drawn pistol. She stopped and turned towards the two corner doors, but Maggie King entered from Intelligence, while Aelfraed walked in from the side hall. Again the maid stopped, then she spun around and ran for the door on the opposite side of the room, but Vlad appeared out of a burst of shadow to cut her off.
"There's nowhere to run to," Differel said.
The maid glanced at her, then sprinted towards her. She pulled he
r pistol and aimed for her head. "Don't try it!"
The maid stopped for the last time, and looked defeated.
"Why did you plant the Lament Configuration in the vault?"
The girl threw her a shocked look. "I did no such thing!"
"Then why did you try to take this box?"
"I wasn't! I...was curious, I just wanted to see it. I know I broke protocol, and I'm sorry. I'll understand if you want to sack me, or discipline me."
During the time since she entered, Maggie had been reviewing information on a handheld device. She passed it to Aelfraed, he briefly examined it.
"Miss Erin Margay?"
The maid turned her attention to him. "Yes, Sir."
"According to our records, you were hired only a month before the inventory."
"Yes, Sir, but I didn't know anything about that."
"At that time, your background check showed no red flags. However, Miss King has just completed a more detailed check, and she has learned that the birth certificate you presented during your interview is that of six month old infant. While this does not prove you brought the Lament Configuration into this house, it is suspicious on its face. No doubt your fingerprints will reveal who you really are."
Her look of innocent naivete disappeared, to be replaced by an arrogant half smile. "That won't be necessary. My real name is Celestine Mirbeau Dupree, and I did place the Lament Configuration in the vault, but my intended target was neither Henry nor Team Girl."
"But you did intend to summon