A smooth pitch, delivered with the timing and conviction of a lifelong salesman. Jack could see how powerful that pitch could be to someone like his father who had a lot of pride and had always been an independent sort.

"At no point," Weldon went on, "will your father be a burden on his children. And at no point will you have to feel guilty about him, because you can rest a.s.sured that he's being well cared for."

"Maybe it's not so much guilt I'm feeling as-pardon me if I sound paranoid, but it seems to be to your advantage to have a quick turnover in housing."

Weldon laughed. "Please, please, we're asked that all the time. But you have to remember, this isn't a Robin Cook novel. This is real life. Trust me, it's all been amortized and insured and reinsured. You can check our financials. Gateways is a public company that posts an excellent bottom line every year."

He noticed that Weldon was starting to sweat. But then, so was Jack. It was like a steam bath out here on the macadam.

"Then I'm not the first to raise the question."

"Of course not. Our society is conspiracy crazy, seeing dark plots wherever it looks. I a.s.sure you, Gateways takes excellent care of its citizens. We do do care. And our caring is what makes our citizens recommend Gateways to their friends and relatives. That's why we have waiting lists all over the country and can't build these communities fast enough. Just one example is the availability of free annual exams I inst.i.tuted last year to catch medical problems early when they're most treatable." care. And our caring is what makes our citizens recommend Gateways to their friends and relatives. That's why we have waiting lists all over the country and can't build these communities fast enough. Just one example is the availability of free annual exams I inst.i.tuted last year to catch medical problems early when they're most treatable."

"Really? Where are they done?"

"Right there in the clinic." He pointed to a one-story structure a hundred yards away across a dead lawn. "It's attached to the skilled nursing facility."

Jack guessed that was Gateways-speak for nursing home.

"Do you think I could speak to the doctor about my father?"

"Please. Go right ahead." He glanced at his watch. "Oops. Going to be late for my meeting." He thrust out his hand again. "Nice meeting you, and good luck to your father. We're all pulling for him."

He slipped into his car and started it up. Jack listened to the throaty roar of its V-8 and, again, wanted one.

He watched him drive away. During all that talk he'd tried to get a bead on Ramsey Weldon but couldn't get past the smooth all-business, all-for-the-company exterior. If his father's accident hadn't been hit and run, he wouldn't have bothered. But since it was...

He shook his head. Maybe he was just looking for something that wasn't there. He knew there was plenty going on out there where no one could see. He didn't need to be inventing a conspiracy around here.

9.

The doctor working the clinic today was named Charles Harris. He wasn't too busy at the moment so Jack got to see him after only a short wait.

A nurse led him into a walnut-paneled consultation room with a cherry wood desk and lots of framed diplomas on the walls. Harris wasn't the only name Jack saw, so he a.s.sumed other doctors rotated through the clinic. Dr. Harris turned out to be a young, dark, curly-haired fellow with bright blue eyes. Jack introduced himself by his real surname-a name he hadn't used in so long it tasted foreign on his lips-and then added: "Tom's son."

Dr. Harris hadn't heard about the accident but offered his wishes for a speedy recovery. Then he wanted to know what he could do for Jack.

"First off I'd like to know if my father had a physical here recently."

Dr. Harris nodded. "Yes, just a couple of months ago."

"Great. Dr. Huerta is his neurologist at the hospital-"

"I know Inez. Your father's in good hands."

"That's comforting. But I'm wondering about his medical condition before the accident."

Jack thought he sensed Dr. Harris recede about half a dozen feet. "Such as?"

"Well, anything that might have contributed to the accident, or might explain what he was doing driving around at that hour."

Dr. Harris leaned forward and thrust his hand across the desk, palm up.

"Could I see some ID?"

"What?" Jack hadn't seen this coming. "What for?"

"To prove you're who you say you are."

Jack knew he couldn't. All his ID was in the name of John Tyleski. He owned nothing with his own surname.

"I've got to prove I'm my father's son? Why on earth-?"

"Patient privilege. Normally I wouldn't under any circ.u.mstances discuss a medical file without the patient's permission, even with a spouse. But since this particular patient is incapable of giving permission, I'm willing to make an exception for a close relative-if that's what you are." that's what you are."

Since Jack couldn't show ID, maybe he could talk his way around this.

"If I wasn't his son, why would I care?"

"You could be a lawyer or someone hired by a lawyer looking for an angle to sue."

"Sue? What the h.e.l.l for?"

"On behalf of someone injured in the accident."

"But my father was the only one injured."

Dr. Harris shrugged. "I don't know that. I know nothing about the accident. I do know that people in these parts sue at the drop of a hat. They're caught up in some sort of lottery mentality. Malpractice insurance is through the roof. People may not be able to figure out a presidential ballot but they d.a.m.n sure know what lawyer to call if they stub a toe."

He could see Dr. Harris was getting steamed just talking about it.

"Look, I a.s.sure you I'm not a lawyer. I can't even remember the last time I spoke to one-that is, if you don't count my brother who's a judge in Philadelphia."

Maybe that'll mollify him, Jack thought.

It didn't.

"On the other hand," Dr. Harris said, "you could be a con man looking to pull some kind of slimy scam."

"Like what?" Jack was interested in hearing this.

He shrugged. "I don't know, but Florida's got more con men per square mile than any other state in the union."

"I'm not a con man"-at least not today-"and I'm concerned about my father. In fact, you've got me worried now. What's wrong with him that you won't tell me? What are you hiding?"

"Not a thing." Dr. Harris wiggled the fingers on his still outstretched hand. "We're wasting time. Just show me some ID and I'll tell you what I know."

s.h.i.t.

"I don't have it with me. I left it at my father's place."

Dr. Harris's features hardened. He shook his head and stood up. "Then I'm afraid I can't do anything for you." He hit a buzzer. "I'll have the nurse show you out."

"All right," Jack said, rising. "But will you at least call Dr. Huerta and tell her what you know?"

Dr. Harris obviously hadn't expected that one.

"I...well, of course. I can do that. I'll call her this afternoon."

As frustrated and worried as he was, Jack had to respect this guy's ethics. He forced a smile and thrust out his hand.

"Thanks. Nice to meet you, doc. You could be cla.s.sified as a real pain in the a.s.s, but I'm glad my dad has someone like you looking after his privacy. My doc at home is the same way."

Of course, Doc Hargus was a different case. His license to practice had been pulled, so no one was supposed to know he even had had patients. patients.

Jack didn't wait for the nurse. He left the thoroughly befuddled Charles Harris, MD behind and headed for the clinic exit.

Along the way he paid close attention to the windows and the walls-especially the upper corners near the ceiling-and the door frame as he stepped through it. No alarm contacts or release b.u.t.tons, no motion detectors.

Good.

10.

"Is it workin'?" Luke said. "Can you see?"

Semelee sat on a bench in the galley of the Bull-ship Bull-ship. Some of the clan was in town, beggin', while others was ash.o.r.e, dozin' in the shade. She and Luke were the only ones aboard. She wished he'd get away and stop hangin' over her shoulder and leave her be. But his heart was in the right place and so she bit her lip and kept her voice low.

"Just give me a minute here, Luke," she said as she adjusted her one remaining sh.e.l.l over her right eye. "Just give me a little s.p.a.ce so's I can see if I can get this to work."

It was so different with only one sh.e.l.l. With two she could focus right in. With one...

With only one eye-sh.e.l.l she could still get into the heads of higher forms like Dora, but the lower forms...they were hard even with two. They didn't have much goin' for them brainwise, and that meant she had to concentrate all the harder. If only she had that other sh.e.l.l.

"I could take a few of the guys and hop the fence and watch him ourselfs. We-"

"Just hesh up, will you? I think I'm gettin' it."

"Yeah?"

She could hear the hope, the excitement in his voice.

She didn't see any way she or one of her clansmen could sneak into the hospital to hunt down that other eye-sh.e.l.l, but if she could keep an eye on the old guy's son, the special one who'd been sent to her, maybe she'd find out if he had it.

But she had to get control here.

Control...back in her teens she'd thought her power was limited to only seein' through a critter's eyes, but she soon learned that was just part of the story. She found out in her junior year when Suzie Lefferts paid her a visit on the beach.

Semelee had been comin' down to the ocean almost every day, except for the rainy ones, to put on her eye-sh.e.l.ls and fly, soar, and dive with the flocks, or swim and dart through the depths with the schools. She could even get into a crab and crawl along the sandy bottom. These was the only times she felt truly alive...truly free...like she belonged.

The sudden sound of a too-familiar voice behind her jarred her back to the beach.

"So this is where you spend all your time."

Suzie must have realized that she was no longer getting to Semelee, that her taunts and tiny tortures weren't having their usual effect. So she'd followed her to see why.

"I thought you might've had a new boyfriend or something," Suzie said, "but all you do is sit here with those stupid sh.e.l.ls over your eyes. You were always a loser, Semelee, but now you've totally lost it."

When Semelee didn't even remove the sh.e.l.ls from her eyes or bother to reply, Suzie flew into a rage. She grabbed the sh.e.l.ls and put them over her own eyes.

"What is it with these things anyway?"

Oh, no! She'd see! She'd know!

But Suzie mustn't've seen anything. She called them junk and tossed them toward the surf.

Terrified they might wash out to sea, Semelee screamed and ran down to the tide's edge. She found what she thought was them-they were freshwater clamsh.e.l.ls after all-but wasn't sure. As Suzie walked up the dune laughing, Semelee wanted to choke her, but she couldn't go after her, not until she made sure she had the right sh.e.l.ls...to see if they still worked...

They did. She put them on and there she was, glidin' high over the beach, watching Suzie strutting toward her car. The b.i.t.c.h!

Suddenly she was divin' toward Suzie, beak open, screechin'. She plowed into the back of her neck, staggerin' the b.i.t.c.h. And then she was peckin' at her head, cuttin' her scalp and tearin' out her teased blond hair in chunks.

Semelee was so surprised she dropped her sh.e.l.ls. She watched the squawkin' gull leave Suzie's head and flap away while Suzie ran screamin' for her car. The truth smacked Semelee right between the eyes then: She couldn't just get inside things and look through their eyes, she could control them, make them do what she wanted.

This cool feelin' of power surged through her. She wasn't just a tiny bit special, she was really really special. special.

But was she all that special with only one sh.e.l.l?

She clapped a hand over her left eye and focused all her will, all her concentration through her right. Something was coming into focus. A blade of gra.s.s, dry and brown, loomed huge in her vision, like the trunk of a tree.

"I'm there!" she cried. "I got one. Now I got to get another."

And another after that, and another, and another...