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Martin licked his lips and turned to Lascal. All right, he said. Let s get
started.
Lascal nodded. Miss Neuman and Mr. Albigoni are in the observation room
adjacent. We ve also managed to secure four of the five assistants you asked
for.
Who?
Erwin Smith, David Wilson, Karl Anderson, Margery Underhill.
Then let s bring the group together.
They walked to the rear of the stage, through another small door and into the
hallway leading to the patients quarters. Martin recalled the last of the
twenty seven people he had investigated and therapied here, a young woman
named Sarah Nm; he vividly remembered her Country, a gentle jungle dotted with
sprawling mansions all filled with exotic animals. Voyaging through her he had
half come to love Sarah Nm, a kind of reverse transference; her interior had
been so peaceful, her exterior large, cowlike, dull normal so apparently
untroubled.
He had often dreamed about Sarah Nm s Country. He doubted Goldsmith s would be
nearly so simple or pleasant.
Goldsmith was being kept in the patient room Sarah Nm had occupied. Two
slender powerful men in longsuits stood outside this door watching them
intently as they
approached, nodding acknowledgment to 1..ascal.
Mr. Albigoni is in there, the taller of the two men said, pointing to the
door across the ball. This was the observation room.
Lascal opened this door and Martin entered.
Albigoni and Carol Neuman sat talking quietly in chairs opposite the main
screen.
They looked up as the door opened. Carol smiled and stood. Albigoni leaned
forward elbows on knees, eyebrows raised expectantly. Martin reached out and
shook Carol s hand.
We re almost ready, she said. I ve given our four assistants a refresher
course.
It s been a while for them.
Martin nodded. Of course. I d like to talk with them as well.
They ll be here in a few minutes, Carol said.
Good. I just... took a brief look at the theater. Everything but the buffer
seems to be there, in place.
It s enough, Carol affirmed. Martin tried to avoid looking at her directly.
He felt particularly vulnerable now. His pulse was racing; he took periodic
deep breaths and he could not stand still.
How s Goldsmith?
Fine, when I last spoke to him, Albigoni said. The instigator of all this
seemed calm, a center of peaceful purpose around which Martin saw he would be
orbiting, electron to the publisher s nucleus. Unimportant. Why here at all,
then? Everything was ready to go; they might just as well do it without him.
Let s see him, then, Martin said, pulling the third seat into proper
position to view the main screen. Lascal sat on a countertop behind them.
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Carol flipped open her chair arm controls and activated the screen. Room one,
please, she said.
Goldsmith sat stooped over on the edge of the neatly made bed, book held
before him at knee level. Black hair rumpled clothes wrinkled but face serene.
Martin studied the face quietly, noting the hooded sleepy eyes strong
character lines surrounding nose and mouth steady sweep back and forth of eyes
totally concentrating on the book.
What s the book? Martin asked.
The Qu ran, Albigoni said. A special edition I published fifteen years ago.
It was the only book he had with him.
Martin looked over his shoulder at Lascal. He s been reading it all along?
Off and on, Lascal said. He called it the religion of the slavers. Said
if he was to be imprisoned he should know the mentality of masters.
Moslems made lots of slave raids, Carol said.
I know, Martin said. But he s not a Moslem himself, is he? There s nothing
about that in his description.
He s not a Moslem, Albigoni said. Doesn t believe in any formal religion as
far as I know. Dabbled in vodoun a few years ago but not seriously. Used to
visit a shop in LA for ritual items, more for research than spiritual need, I
think.
Two of the IPR s patients had been born to the Islamic faith. Their Countries
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