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as the first encouraging word that anyone had offered her since

Chisum had dropped his bombshell earlier in the day. From that moment

on, her mind had been in a turmoil. She stepped into the turnstile

door and was rotated through into the adjoining office.

Standing behind the desk was another man wearing a black and

silver-blue jumpsuit. But this one had sleeves laced with gold wire, a

sign she was dealing with someone from the top deck.

Roz snapped to attention. The man, who had a high forehead and lean,

angular features, motioned her to sit down in the chair facing the

desk. The high-wire stayed on his feet. Placing his hands behind his

back, he stalked slowly round her like a predator circling its

exhausted prey.

'You don't need to know who I am,' said Karlstrom.

'But I can assure you that I know everything there is to know about you

and your kin-brother and you should bear that in mind before replying

to the questions I shall put to you. Any attempt to conceal

information will have unpleasant consequences. Is that clear?"

Roz nodded.

'Steven is no longer in the A-levels." Karlstrom fixed her with his

deep-set penetrating gaze. 'But then I expect you already know

that."

Roz paled but did not reply.

'As I thought." Karlstrom passed between her and the desk, then snaked

round behind it. 'I have studied the taped reports of the

psychosomatic wounding you experienced when your kin-brother was shot

down last June. And I am aware that you have been subjected to further

distress since." He paused expectantly. 'I see.

You prefer to make no comment. Very well. Take a look at this."

Karlstrom swivelled a pedestal-mounted video screen towards her and hit

a button on the desk console. A coloured line appeared and expanded to

fill the entire screen, It was a picture of Roz, taken by a concealed

video camera. She lay on her side asleep in her bunk, the covers

pulled up to her chin. The image was sharp, every detail clear; people

studying for medical doctorates slept with the lights on like everyone

else.

Roz saw her sleeping self open her mouth, saw her face muscles tighten

to issue a soundless scream, then saw an invisible arrowhead punch a

hole through her cheek. The screen Roz rolled her head from side to

side, revealing an exit wound on the other cheek, then she sat up and

clutched her face. The blood seeped through her fingers and trickled

down on to the back of her wrists.

Kicking aside the duvet, she ran barefoot out of camera range in the

direction of the washroom.

The picture changed. This next camera had been positioned to cover the

line of hand basins and the communal showers. Roz found herself

wondering what other activity the watchers had recorded since the

cameras were installed. Or were these hidden eyes everywhere - not

just for her, but to keep tabs on the whole class? The whole school

. . ? Where did it end?

Her screen self entered and hurried across to examine her face in the

wall-to-wall mirror mounted above the hand basins. The palms of her

hands and cheeks were coated with blood. She opened up both taps, spat

out a mouthful of blood, then pulled some cotton tissues from the

nearest dispenser and swabbed her face and hands. Roz saw herself

pause and stare at her mirror image, and she silently recalled the

moment and the surprise she had felt then and which her screen self now

displayed.

The hidden camera zoomed in as she examined her face closely. The

wounds were closing before her eyes. A minute later, the skin was

whole; only a bruise remained to mark the point where the arrow had

pierced her cheeks. She took a closer look, clearly doubting the

evidence of her own eyes, then accepted the event with a shrug and

rinsed her mouth to get rid of the last traces of blood.

The tape then switched back to a wide-angled view from the camera aimed

at her bunk-space. The digital time display in the top right-hand

corner of the screen showed that it was 0630. Other students moved

past in various stages of undress and alertness. Roz saw and heard

herself explaining to Gina B!ackwell - the student in the next bunk

that the blood on her pillow was the result of a sudden nosebleed.

Karlstrom hit the 'Off' button. 'Remarkable." He sat down behind the

desk and gazed at Roz over his steepled fingers. 'May I now take it

you are prepared to concede that this is a true record of what

happened?"