thing Vail noticed was that the windows had no bars, they were made of thick, bulletproof glass. It was an attractive-looking structure and obviously built to provide the most pleasant circumstances possible. Maximum security was at the end of a long, wide hallway that connected it to one of the wards in the newer wing. There was an office off to one side of the hall with a wire-mesh door and Woodward led Vail to it, took out a bunch of keys, unlocked the door, and entered. As Vail stepped through the doorway, he was instantly seized with an overwhelming sense of evil.
The air seemed suddenly to be sucked out of the room.
A wet, icy chill swept through it.
The hair bristled on the back of Vail's neck.
Gooseflesh rippled up his arms.
Sweat burst from the pores in his forehead - a frigid sweat, like water dribbling down the torso of a melting snowman.
He shivered spasmodically.
He unconsciously gasped for air.
And then it was over.
Vail was rooted in place for a moment, as if his legs had suddenly atrophied.
What was it? A rampant chimera let loose by his imagination?
A subconscious fear of the uncharted and unpredictable minds in this community of the deranged?
An omen of some kind?
He quickly regaining his bearings, wondering if Woodward had had the same reaction. But it was obvious that Vail had been the only one who had experienced… whatever it was. They were in a fairly confined space, an electronic repair shop littered with TVs, VCRs, oscilloscopes, and computers lined up on workbenches and tables and further cramping the limited space.
A man in his mid to late twenties leaned over a work-table in a corner near the room's single window. A gooseneck lamp curved down beside his face, its light revealing the insides of a dismantled computer. He had the smooth, muscular build of a swimmer, dark blond hair, and pale eyes, and he was wearing the khaki pants and dark blue cotton shirt of a guard, the shirt's sleeves hitched halfway to his elbows. He looked up as Woodward and Vail entered the room and grinned, a wide, boyish grin, full of straight white teeth.
'Mr Vail, I'm Raymond Vulpes,' he said, sticking out his hand. 'Can't tell you what a great thrill it is to meet you.'
Vail took the hand and looked into Vulpes's face and in that moment realized that he was shaking hands with Aaron Stampler.
Caught off guard and shocked, Vail stepped back from Vulpes and turned to Woodward, who was leaning against a bench, smiling. For an instant he thought perhaps this was a perverse joke; that they were all mad and Woodward was the maddest one of all; that when Vail tried to leave, they would slam the doors and trap him inside with the other lunatics.
'I wanted you two to meet,' Woodward said casually. 'We're going to the vistor's suite, Raymond. I'll send Terry up for you in a few minutes.'
'Fine, I have to finish changing a couple of chips in Landberg's machine.'
'Excellent.'
'See you then, Mr Vail,' Vulpes said, flashing another million-dollar grin as they left the repair room.
'What the hell's going on?' Vail asked as Woodward locked the door.
'Recognized him, eh?'
'Ten years hasn't changed him that much. He's a lot heavier and he seems to be in great shape.'
'Works out an hour a day. Part of the regimen.'
'What regimen? Is this some kind of bizarre joke?'
'Joke? Hardly. Relax, Martin, all in good time.'
MaxSec was sealed from the hallway and the rest of the ward by a wall with a single, solid, sliding steel door. The security officer, a skinny young man named Harley, smiled as Woodward and Vail approached. He pushed a button under his desk. The heavy door slid open. Harley
