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.''