EPILOGUE

Carnell sat in his office at the Freeman Institute and surveyed the quiet evening scene below him with considerable contentment. The nameplate on his door said `Professor A Freeman - Principal'. This was his foundation. True, another man had supplied the idea, but he had laboured to bring it forth: searching out the place and the people; supervising the design, the construction, the curriculum and the admission of students; focusing all his powers on providing a genuine institute of education with the necessary standards to attract the ablest students. He was rather amazed how well this role suited him and how much he cared for this child of his.
        He had designed this suite of offices for himself, the only rooms on this floor at this end of the building, level with the clerestory of the lofty assembly hall it abutted. Behind him, the glass wall displayed the steeply rising forested hillside, vibrant with every shade of green; to his left he could see two residential blocks and winding pathways. Gardens were being laid out and the valley floor stream was being dammed at several points to create ponds and waterfalls; his researchers were to have congenial surroundings for their contemplations. Before him, the third glass wall looked down into the assembly hall. Through the imposing open doors on either side of the dais, the base of the double staircase which served the adjacent teaching block could be seen, and even the lower part of the lift doors at the back of the vestibule. The huge blank wall above the doors would acquire a suitable mural in time, but at present it was only broken by a door high up at the far right, giving onto the ornate metal gallery which ran the length of the hall along the clerestory windows to the vestibule which was the only access to his office, apart from a discreet private lift for his sole use. On this fourth side of the office was a wall of textured brick whose doors opened into the vestibule with the secretarial office on the far side, and into his cloakroom suite where the lift entrance was located. Any of the glass walls could be opaqued at will, or switched to one-way only if he wished to observe without being seen.
        The name `Freeman' was chosen as a gesture to his late captors and a reminder to his current employers. Building the Institute had occupied most of his time up to now, but he felt sufficiently satisfied with its progress to start on the initial outline of his great project, and he had notified his backers that he would be ready for two research students at the start of the next academic year, now only three months away.
        A movement below caught his eye, a pair of booted feet were entering one of the lifts. He felt a sudden certainty that they were coming here and he reached across to his security console to switch the glass to one-way viewing. As an added precaution he activated his video scanner and the door lock.
        The door at the end of the gallery opened. The man walking so casually across the thirty metre gap was somehow disturbing, with his rather feline gait, he looked like a man who was accustomed to carrying arms. As he neared the vestibule door, Carnell noted dark hair, dark eyes, dark clothes, and something familiar - what was it? Then he noted two other things; the magno-lock was undone and the scanner was off.
        The man was at the vestibule door - the office door. With a tingle of anticipation Carnell rose to confront the visitor, suddenly certain of his identity and his mission.
        The distinctive voice he had heard before on recordings, spoke. ``Dr Carnell, I believe?'' There was a hint of a challenging smile in those dark eyes, ``My name is Kerr Avon.''


© Copyright Vega (Frances Teagle), 1999.
This story may be printed for individual use, but must not be stored as a computer file or reproduced for sale or distribution.