Zia jumped out and ran to it. She pulled open the door at the back then clambered inside, out of sight. As Alex leaned forward, trying to see, Beckman’s coil constricted around him in warning, cutting into his arms

“Don’t move, please,” Beckman said pleasantly. “We will be on our way soon. You are very privileged, you know. You will be there to witness the opening of the gate. Something no one has seen in centuries. The Shadow Gate of Boll,” Beckman said the phrase in a soft, happy singsong, as if reciting a favorite lesson. Alex felt a nauseating shiver of excitement pulsing through the wire loop that bound him.

“They took it apart,” Beckman went on, gazing into the night. “All those hundreds of years ago, they took the gate apart. Too scared to destroy it, you see. Or maybe too curious. But, of course, you can understand that. You had the chance to destroy the name of God, after all, and you chose not to. Perhaps, in their hearts, they secretly always longed for the gate to be opened again. And now we have put it back together. And I helped.”

Alex peered at Beckman, morbidly fascinated by the wounds around the little man’s neck, bruised areas from which thin tubes ran down into his mechanical torso. Thick liquid quivered inside the transparent plastic lines as Beckman turned eagerly to Alex, his little head swiveling around on top of the unmoving body.

“You will see soon,” Beckman said. “The unseen. It’s only right you should be there. It’s because of you the gate will be opened again, you know.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“Your meddling brought the fire down on him. In Prague.” Beckman spoke as though patiently explaining something very obvious. “That led us to this. He has studied the gate stories for such a long time but always hesitated to make the attempt. Until now. Too dangerous. Only to be tried as a last resort. But now, here we are. At the last resort. Or second last, maybe.”

Alex jumped in his skin as the car door was pulled open.

“What are you saying to the rabbit?” Zia demanded, nodding at Alex. Beneath her arm, she clutched a thick padded cushion brightly patterned with picnicking teddy bears.

“Nothing,” Beckman protested placatingly, bowing his head.

“Loose lips sink little tin men,” Zia scolded. “We will begin Alexander’s education when the time is appropriate. If such time ever comes. In the meantime: shtum. Now, move that one.” She pointed at Metz’s limp form. “We’ll take him, in case Father needs to use him again.”

Obeying, Beckman stepped out, dragging Alex on the end of the wire. Flexing his massive mechanical arms, he lifted Metz from behind the steering wheel, carried him around the car, and dumped him on the passenger seat, then worked hurriedly to bind Metz’s hands to the door handle.