on whatsoever； you'd have already gotten your hands on a decent piece of money。 You know what； Ogden？ I think you're as inept and unimaginative in your research as you are in bed。 You're never going to get anywhere； but I am。 I'm getting out。 What a bitch she had been。 Just thinking about her； he began to tremble and perspire。
Alice was still smiling at him。
〃Stop smiling；〃 he said softly。 〃I don't like it。〃
She did as she was told。
〃What am I； Alice？〃
〃You're the key。〃
〃And what are you？〃
〃The lock。〃
〃Now that I've opened you； you'll do whatever I tell you to do。 Isn't that true？〃
〃Yeah。〃
He took three one…dollar bills from his wallet and put them on top of the lunch check。 〃I'm going to test you； Alice。 I'm going to see just how obedient you are。〃
She waited docilely。
〃When you leave this table；〃 he said； 〃you'll take the check and money to the cash register。 You'll ring up the sale and take your tip from whatever's left of the three dollars。 Is that clear？〃
〃Yeah。〃
〃Then you will go to the kitchen。 Is there anyone back there？〃
〃No。 Randy went to the bank。〃
〃Randy Ultman？〃
〃Yeah。〃
〃That's good；〃 Salsbury said。 〃Now； when you go to the kitchen； you'll pick up a meat fork； a cook's fork。 One of those big； two…pronged forks。 Is there one of those in the kitchen？〃
〃Yeah。 Several。〃
〃You'll pick one of them up and stab yourself with it； run it all the way through your left hand。〃
She didn't even blink。
〃Is that understood； Alice？〃
〃Yeah。 I understand。〃
〃When you turn away from this table； you'll forget everything we've said to each other。 Understood？〃
〃Yeah。〃
〃When you run the fork through your hand； you'll think it was an accident。 A freak accident。 Won't you； Alice？〃
〃Sure。 An accident。〃
〃Go away； then。〃
She turned and walked to the half…door at the end of the
lunch counter； her smooth hips rolling provocatively。
When she reached the cash register and began to ring up the sale； Salsbury slid out of the booth and started toward the door。
She dropped her tip into a pocket of her uniform； closed the cash register drawer； and went into the kitchen。
At the entrance Salsbury stopped and put a quarter in the newspaper vending machine。
Bob Thorp laughed loudly at some joke； and the waitress named Bess giggled like a young girl。
Salsbury took a copy of the Black River Bulletin from the wire rack； folded it； put it under his arm； and opened the door to the foyer。 He stepped across the sill and began to pull the door shut behind him； thinking all the while： e on； you bitch； e on！ His heart was pounding； and he felt slightly dizzy。
Alice began to scream。
Grinning； Salsbury closed the first door； pushed through the outer door； went down the steps； and walked east on Main Street； as if he were unaware of the uproar in the cafe。
The day was bright and warm。 The sky was cloudless。
He had never been happier。
Paul shouldered past Bob Thorp and stepped into the kitchen。 The young waitress was standing at a counter that lay between two upright food freezers。 Her left hand was palm down on a wooden cutting board。 With her right hand she gripped an eighteen…inch…long meat fork。 The two wickedly sharp prongs appeared to have been driven all the way through her left hand and into the wood beneath。 Blood spotted her light blue uniform； glistened on the cutting board； and dripped from the edge of the Formica…topped counter。 She was screaming and gasping for breath between the screams and shaking and trying to wrench the fork loose。
Turning back to Bob Thorp； who stood transfixed in the doorway； Paul said； 〃Get Doc Troutman。〃
Thorp didn't have to be told again。 He hurried away。
Taking hold of the woman's right hand； Paul said； 〃Let go
of the fork。 I want you to let go of the fork。 You're doing more harm than good。〃
She raised her head and seemed to look straight through him。 Her face was chalky beneath her dark plexion； she was obviously in shock。 She couldn't stop screaming…an ululating wail more animal than human…and she probably didn't even know that he had spoken to her。
He had to pry her fingers from the handle of the fork。
At his side Jenny said； 〃Oh； my God！〃
〃Hold her for me；〃 he said。 〃Don't let her grab the fork。〃
Jenny gripped the woman's right wrist。 She said； 〃I think I'm going to be sick。〃
Paul wouldn't have blamed her if she had been just that。 In the tiny restaurant kitchen； with the ceiling only a few inches above their heads； the screams were deafening。 The sight of that slender hand with the fork embedded in it was horrifying； the stuff of nightmares。 The air was thick with the stale odors of baked ham； roast beef； fried onions； grease…and the fresh； metallic tang of blood。 It was enough to nauseate anyone。 But he said； 〃You won't be sick。 You're a tough lady。〃
She bit her lower lip and nodded。
Quickly； as if he had been prepared and waiting for exactly this emergency； Paul took a dishcloth from the towel rack and tore it into two strips。 He threw one of these aside。 With the other length of cloth and a long wooden tasting spoon； he fashioned a tourniquet for the waitress's left arm。 He twisted the wooden spoon with his right hand and covered the handle of the meat fork with his left。 To Jenny he said； 〃e around here and take the tourniquet。〃
As soon as her right hand was free； the waitress tried to get to the handle of the fork。 She clawed at Paul's fist。
Jenny took hold of the spoon。
Pressing down on the waitress's wounded hand； Paul jerked up on the fork； which was sunk into the wood perhaps half an inch past her flesh； and pulled the tines from her in one sudden； clean movement。 He dropped the fork and slipped an arm
around her waist to keep her from falling。 Her knees had begun to buckle； he had thought they might。
As he stretched the woman out on the floor； Jenny said； 〃She must be in awful pain。〃
Those words seemed to shatter the waitress's terror。 She stopped screaming and began to cry。
〃I don't see how she did it；〃 Paul said as he tended to her。 〃She put that fork through her hand with incredible force。 She was pinned to the board。〃
Weeping； trembling； the waitress said； 〃Accident。〃 She gasped and groaned and shook her head。 〃Terrible 。 。 。 accident。〃
6
Fourteen Months Earlier：
Thursday； June 10； 1976
NAKED； THE DEAD MAN lay on his back in the center of the slightly tilted autopsy table； framed by blood gutters on all sides。
〃Who was he？〃 Klinger asked。
Salsbury said； 〃He worked for Leonard。〃
The room in which the three men stood was illuminated only in the center by two hooded lamps above the autopsy table。 Three walls were lined with puter housings； consoles； and monitor boards； and the tiny systems bulbs and glowing scopes made ghostly patches of green； blue； yellow； and pale red light in the surrounding shadows。 Nine TV display screens…cathode…ray tubes…were set high on three walls； and four other screens were suspended from the ceiling； and all of them emitted a thin bluish…green light。
In that eerie glow the corpse looked less like a real body than like a prop in a horror film。
Somber； almost reverent； Dawson said； 〃His name was Brian Kingman。 He was on my personal staff。〃
〃For very long？〃 Klinger asked。
〃Five years。〃
The dead man had been in his late twenties and in good condition。 Now； circulation having ceased seven hours ago； lividity had set in； the blood had settled into his calves； the backs of
his thighs； his buttocks； and his lower back； and in these places the flesh was purple and a bit distended。 His face was white and deeply lined。 His hands were at his sides； his palms up； the fingers curled。
〃Was he married？〃 Klinger asked。
Dawson shook his head： no。
〃Family？〃
〃Grandparents dead。 No brother or sisters。 His mother died when he was born； and his father was killed in an auto accident last year。〃
〃Aunts and uncles？〃
〃None close。〃
〃Girl friends？〃
〃None that he was serious about or that were serious about him；〃 Dawson said。 〃That's why we chose him。 If he disappears； there's no one to waste a lot of time and energy looking for him。〃
Klinger considered that for a few seconds。 Then