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who inhabits the night and the shadows, has no real
substance, but foreshadows disaster. He is connected in legend to obi and
voodoo and other dark rites like devil worship. Some such cults have a belief
that when the Dark Man ceases being a spirit and becomes real that is,
tangible he will be the harbinger of the end of the world. Will that do?"
"That is quite enough, thank you. Um, SAINT this may be a ridiculous question,
but do you have any idea who or what killed my father?"
"Logic suggests that he was either killed by a beast of an unknown type or a
mechanism simulating it, certainly to induce fear, possibly to attempt to get
this island either closed down or opened up to outside authority. It generates
insecurity to those corporations and nations who use these facilities because
of the tight security. As to who disallowing the very real but not very
probable motive of insanity or personal grievance the list of suspects, both
individual, group, and institutional, is, I'm afraid, far longer than your
report."
"Do you think it likely that they will strike again?"
"That will depend on the motives. If the motive was to impair or close down
this installation, then the probability is quite high that when this does not
happen they will increase their attempts, perhaps in ever greater and more
spectacular ways. If it is a stage in a long-range plan or objective, we can
expect new developments to proceed. If, on the other hand, it was personal,
probably not. Insanity is, by its nature, unpredictable, since while it
proceeds from perfect logic, the frame of reference of the insane individual
is not based on reality."
"What would you recommend for me? Should I remain here or go elsewhere for my
own safety?"
"I can make no such recommendation. However, logic suggests that if Sir Robert
could be killed under those circumstances in a place like this, there no safe
place, merely more is vulnerable ones."
"Am I a likely target?"
"Unknown, again depending on motivation. If the objective is to destroy
Magellan and undermine this installation, you would be the most logical
target. However, under any other circumstances, you might be the only really
safe person on the island. There is, after all, another motive which is most
logical in terms of the actual murder of Sir Robert."
"Oh? What is that?"
"Someone, for some reason, preferred you to him as the owner of the
controlling interest in
Magellan."
6
A BRISK WALK IN THE WOODS
She was in the deep forest, the moon showing only slightly through the dense
growth, yet she could see well enough. She was naked, and unadorned in any
way, yet she did not realize this or think upon it. She did not, in the human
sense, think at all; rather, she felt things, basic things, with an intensity
she had never known before. There was caution, and fear as well of potential
enemies, but there was, too, a sense of exhilaration, of being alive and one
with the forest.
Sight, sound, and smell told her that the way was safe, and she got up and
moved swiftly and expertly down the forest trail until it opened into a broad
meadow with a big dark rock in its center. Once here, she knew, felt, that she
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was safe and protected.
One by one the others came as well, to run, and jump, and touch, and play with
one another in the meadow that was brightly lit by the moon's glow. They were
of her own kind and she knew and loved them all, these sisters of the
moonlight. They were wild beasts, sometimes on two legs,
sometimes down on all fours, yet they were shaped like the others, Those Who
Must Be Hidden
From and Feared.
Sometimes they would scamper through the forest and reach the places where
fruit trees grew.
Then one or more would climb the trees as if it were an easy walk and not
straight up and knock the fruit down for others to scramble for and stuff into
their mouths. She always ate with them, yet no matter how much she ate it was
never enough, never right.
There was a hollow, empty hunger she did not understand, a craving left
unfulfilled, but she lacked the reasoning ability to even guess what it could
be.
And then, as the mists began to build up and the false dawn crept into the
eastern sky, they scampered back into the woods, back to the safety of their
own territorial places before the sun came up.
Angelique awoke to see bright sunlight creeping around the edges of the
curtains, and she frowned, looked over at the clock, and saw that it was
nearly time to get up. She did not feel like it, though; instead, she felt
very tired, as if the dream had been real, and she quickly settled back into a
deep, seemingly dreamless sleep.
In the following weeks, around the world, several small countries went to war
with each other, the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. had two tense confrontations, the
stock markets mostly were down, although not dramatically, and hordes of
people in various major cities protested one thing or another. The business of
the world went on, and even Sir Robert's murder, its grisly and mysterious
details rather well suppressed, faded from the public's memory. There was
still a bounty on the first new pictures and interview with Angelique, now one
of the richest women in the world if not the richest, and there were the usual
messages from the top network interviewers in the U.S., Canada, Britain, and
France as well as a host of hustlers and entrepreneurs
coming in, but on Allenby Island things seemed to lapse into calm and
insulated peace.
A small squad of expert workmen and technicians managed, in a very short time,
to combine the VIP quarters with Sir Robert's old suite and remodel and remake
it into a complex designed to deal with Angelique's physical problems, and to
house the new staff while also redecorating to the new owner's tastes. Such
things as lights, full or individual, as well as a satellite-fed television
receiver, radio, and stereo gear, could be controlled by her voice in much the
same way as she controlled her chair. Any dark corners could be instantly
flooded with light at a single command.
As with her chair, she kept the commands basically to one or two words in
basic French, since
English was the usual language of the Institute. It kept her from
inadvertently giving orders when having a general conversation.
The staff brought in by the Institute was excellent, at least so far. The
shift work, or on-call maid and orderly services, was performed by two Haitian
sisters, identical twins, actually, named
Marie and Margarete, both seventeen and both illiterate, with virtually no
schooling. They were, however, friendly, attentive girls who didn't mind the
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really dirty work and loved the luxury. The third shift was given to eighteen
year old Juanita Hernandez, a half-Indian beauty from
Venezuela, who was barely literate but made do in English. The twins also made
do in English;
their native French was such an odd amalgam of dialects and new and old
tongues that it was virtually unintelligible to her.
Added to this was Alice Cowan, a nineteen year old Jamaican who was not merely
literate but a very fast reader and a capable personal secretary. She was
quite tall and very thin, with straight black hair and a light brown
complexion, and while she seemed a bit more reserved than the others, she was
no less anxious to please and seemed genuinely glad to have the job.
Greg lived in a small apartment down in the village, where he was among
friends and felt most comfortable. Angelique had remained in and around the
Institute, partly because helping redo the quarters gave her something
creative to occupy her mind and also because Greg was a daily visitor.
They had almost literally taken apart and put back together her father's old
suite, then moved her into it while they remade her own. Her opinion of Greg
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