He had returned after band practice to the room he shared with Damien and found the tangled bedding on the floor. He had remade his foster brother's bed, and now he lay on his own bunk, with the tensor light on low, worrying and waiting, trying to rest. He didn't know what was wrong. He had seen Damien go berserk in class that day and then run out of the building later on, but they hadn't had a chance to talk, and Damien was still not back yet. Mark was afraid and couldn't sleep.

Finally he heard Damien's light footfall. He rolled over and looked up to find Damien standing just inside the doorway, looking down at him.

'Where've you been?' Mark asked, genuinely concerned. 'I've been worried!'

Damien said nothing. He moved silent to his bunk and lay down on it, staring up at the ceiling, not even acknowledging the fact that Mark had made it up for him from the mess he had left on the floor.

'Damien!' Mark whispered urgently, but he got no answer. He watched Damien stare at the ceiling until he could stand it no longer, and whispered, even more loudly, 'Are you all right?’

For a long time, Damien didn't respond. Then he finally said: 'I'm okay now. Put out the light. You'll get us in trouble.'

Mark did as he was told. For a moment, the room was completely dark and totally silent. When his eyes had readjusted to the darkness, and he could see Damien still lying there, staring at the ceiling, Mark asked, 'You sure you're okay?'

'Go to sleep,' Damien said, his voice unusually harsh and stiff. And he rolled over and went to sleep himself.

But it was a long time before Mark did.

Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

Pasarian, exhausted from jet lag and lugging a bulging briefcase, ran across the tarmac. Behind him, the largest Thorn Industries jet was beginning to cool down after its nonstop flight from India.

Pasarian went straight for the nearest pay phone. Although it was late Sunday evening, the call could not wait. Thorn had to be told what had happened. Immediately.

Fortunately, Pasarian had access to a company credit card number; he had nothing but Indian coins with him. Tapping nervously against the glass of the phone booth, he waited for a call to be put through to the Thorns' lakeside retreat.

The butler who answered the phone told him that Thorn would be out late that evening and could not be reached, but he assured Pasarian that the message would be conveyed to Thorn in the morning.

Disappointed, Pasarian debated what he should do next. If he waited until morning, things could only get worse. And yet Thorn was really the only one who should be told. Pasarian thought for a while, then made his decision. Against his better judgment, he picked up the phone and put in a call to Buher.

***