Wayne's palms were sweating as he gripped the guidance wheel and placed his feet against the hard rubber pedals that controlled the rudder.
'Scan your instruments,' Coombs said. 'Airspeed's still on autopi, so don't worry about that. Bring your nose down a few degrees. Let's level her off.'
Wayne pushed the yoke forward, and the Challenger instantly responded, the silver nose dropping back to level flight. He had overestimated, though, and had to pull slightly up from a six-degree downward pitch. The plane began to roll just a bit to the right, and Coombs let Wayne work with the yoke and pedals until he'd gotten the jet trimmed again. The controls needed a feather-light but decisive touch, and compared to this he'd had to fight the Beechcraft across the sky. He grinned and said in a shaky voice, 'How was that?'
Coombs laughed. 'Fine. Of course, we're about a hundred miles off our flight path, but you're okay for a prop- jockey. Want to co-pilot me into Palm Springs?'
Wayne beamed.
Less than two hours later the Challenger was landing at Palm Springs Municipal Airport. In the co-pilot's seat, Wayne watched intently as Coombs went through the landing procedure.
Two Lincoln Continental limousines awaited the Challenger. Wayne was escorted by Niles into the first one, and Hodges and Bragg climbed into the other. They started off together, but after ten minutes the Mexican driver of the second limo announced he felt 'something funny' and pulled off the expressway. He got out to check, and reported that the left rear tire was going flat. Hodges watched the car carrying Niles and Wayne driving away out of sight, and he said tersely, 'Fix it!'
The driver had already pocketed a small icepick-like blade as he unlocked the trunk to get the spare.
Wayne was driven along the edge of a huge golf course. A purple line of mountains undulated in the distance. Everywhere there was green grass being saturated with water from sprinklers, and palm trees sprouted bright green fans. The limo turned into a residential area where only roofs and palm trees showed high above stone walls. A uniformed watchman waved to them and opened a pair of wide wrought-iron gates. The limo continued up a long driveway bordered with bursts of red and yellow flowers, carefully trimmed hedges, and a few large species of cactus. Gardeners were at work, pruning and spraying. Wayne caught a glimpse of a red-slate roof capped with turrets, and then there was a huge structure before him that was perhaps the strangest house he'd ever seen.
It was made of pale brownish stone, and was a riot of angles and protuberances, blocks upon blocks, high towers, mansard roofs and gables and Gothic arches and masonry carved in geometric shapes and statuelike figures. It looked like the work of ten insane architects who'd all decided to build a structure on the same property and connect them with domes, parapets, and sheltered walkways. Work was still going on, Wayne saw; more stones were being placed one atop the other by workmen on a scaffolding. There was no telling how many floors the place had, because one level seemed to stop in midair and another shot up at a different place. But, oddly, only the ground floor had windows.
The limo pulled under a porte cochere, and Mr Niles escorted Wayne up a few stone stairs to a massive front door. It was opened for them by a white-jacketed Mexican butler with a brown, seamed face. 'Mr Krepsin's expecting you, Mr. Falconer,' the butler said. 'You can go up immediately.'
'This way,' Niles said. He led Wayne across a gleaming hardwood floor to an elevator; when the elevator doors opened, a rush of cool dry air came out. As they ascended, Wayne could hear the quiet throbbing of machinery somewhere in the house, growing louder as they rose.
'Shouldn't we wait for the others?' he asked.
'They'll be along.' The doors slid open.
They stood in a featureless white room. A pair of glass doors stood just opposite them, and beyond that was a dimly lit corridor Machinery hissed and hummed from the walls, and Wayne could smell the distinct odor of disinfectant.
'If you'll be so kind,' Niles said, 'as to take off your shoes? You can put these on.' He stepped across to a chrome-topped desk and picked up one of the several pairs of cotton slippers. A box of surgical gloves sat atop the desk as well. 'Also, if you'll take any change you might have in your pockets and put it in one of these plastic bags? Currency, too.'
Wayne took his shoes off and slipped into the cotton ones. 'What's this all about?'
Niles did the same, taking the change out of his pockets and putting it in a bag. 'Shoes and money carry bacteria. Will you put on a pair of gloves, please? Ready? Follow me, then.' He pressed a button on the wall next to the doors and they slid quickly open, like a pair of automatic supermarket doors. When Wayne followed him through, into an atmosphere that was cooler and noticeably drier than the rest of the house, the doors thunked shut like the closing of a bear trap. The corridor, illuminated by recessed lighting, was totally bare and uncarpeted; the thick stone walls radiated a chill, and somewhere in them an air-purifying system hissed faintly.
Wayne was taken almost to the end of the corridor, to a pair of large oak doors. Niles pressed a buzzer set into the wall, and a few seconds later Wayne heard the sound of the doors unlocking electronically. 'Go right in,' Niles said. Wayne, his stomach twisted into nervous knots and his head aching again, stepped through the doors.
There were skeletons in the room. Skeletons of fish, birds, animals, and one of a human being, laced together with wire and standing in a corner beneath a track light's beam. Smaller skeletons, of lizards and rodents, were placed under glass display cases. The doors closed automatically behind Wayne, and a lock softly clicked.
'Welcome.'
Wayne looked toward the sound of that voice. In front of glass-enclosed bookcases there was a teakwood desk topped with a green blotter A man sat in a wide, high-backed black leather chair, a track light shining down upon a white, bald head. The room was wood-paneled, and on the floor was a dark blue Persian rug with gold figures. Wayne stepped closer to him, and saw that the head sat atop a mountain of caftan-dressed flesh; his face was made up of folds within folds, and small black eyes glittered. He smiled, showing tiny white teeth. 'I'm so glad you could come,' the man said. 'May I call you Wayne?'
Wayne glanced uneasily around at the mounted skeletons. There was an entire skeleton of a horse, caught in midstride.
Augustus Krepsin waited until Wayne had almost reached the desk, then extended a hand. Only after Wayne had shaken it did he realize Krepsin was also wearing flesh-colored surgical gloves. 'Please, sit down.' Krepsin motioned toward a chair. 'Can I offer you something? Fruit juice? Vitamins to perk you up?'
'No, thanks.' Wayne took the seat. 'I had a sandwich on the plane.'
'Ah, the Challenger! How'd you like it?'
'It was . . . fine. Mr. Coombs is a good pilot. I . . . don't know what happened to the others. They were in the car right behind us. ...'
'They'll be along soon, I'm sure. I see you're intrigued by my collection, aren't you?'
'Well, I ... I've never seen anything quite like it.'
Krepsin grinned. 'Bones. The very framework of the body. Strong, durable, highly resistant to disease, yet . . . sadly, often the first thing to weaken in a body. I'm fascinated by the mysteries of the human body, Wayne: its flaws and faults as well as its strengths.' He motioned toward the human skeleton. 'What a grand design, isn't it? Yet . . . doomed to return to dust. Unless, of course, you treat it and varnish it and wire it together so it won't dissolve for a few hundred years.'
Wayne nodded, his hands clasped together in his lap.
'You're a handsome young man,' Krepsin said. 'Twenty-one next month, am I right? Lived in Fayette all your life? You know, there's something about a Southern accent that's so . . . earthy. I've become quite a fan of yours, Wayne. I had Mr. Niles obtain video tapes of some of your shows when he visited Nashville, and I've watched them all several times. You have quite a commanding presence for such a young man.'
'Thank you.'
Krepsin's large head dipped in respect. 'You've come a long way, I understand. Now you have an influential television show, a radio station that's turning at least a hundred thousand in profits every year, and a publishing company that will break even sometime in 1974. You speak before approximately a half-million people per year, and your foundation is planning to build a four-year Christian university before 1980.'
'You've been checking up on me,' Wayne said.
'Just as your Mr Hodges has been asking questions about the Ten High Corporation. It's only good business.' He shrugged his massive shoulders. 'But I'm sure you know what needs to be known: I own Ten High. Ten High
