A Question of Will Read Free Page A

simple cold feet for a young man of twenty-three. It was a moot concern now.
    Mark forced himself to look directly into the eyes of Death and nod once.
    The killer backed away, giving Mark room to climb back to his feet. Mark never took his eyes from the man. If he was going to die, he wouldn’t be a coward and look away.
    The killer pointed at the three men standing at the outer door of the man-trap. “Let them in.”
    Full realization hit Mark. The four men had worked together; three had distracted the guards while the fourth eliminated the first and then subdued the second. How had he missed seeing this man? Had he been hiding in the Tower all this time? Guilt tore at him, and then morphed into steely resolve. He was going to save as many people as possible this day.
    He forced himself to look directly into those blood-red eyes and took a deep breath. “No.”
    The tip of the sword lashed across his face, and he felt the warm blood trickle down both cheeks out of the two lacerations now marking his skin. He had enough time to register this before he found himself on his back, the edge of the sword against his throat. The man had speed Mark could not hope to match.
    “Wrong answer,” the killer hissed. He rose to his feet, the sword never breaking contact with Mark. At his full height, he used the sword to gesture toward control panel, where the man-trap authorization buttons were located. The killer had done his homework. The buttons were fingerprint-activated and sensed blood pressure and pulse rate, and only the on-duty guards could activate them. Each guard had his pulse rate and blood pressure measured upon starting his shift. If the measurements at the time they tried to open the man-trap were significantly higher or lower than the baseline, the interior door wouldn’t open. Mark had asked why it wouldn’t open if the numbers were lower than the baseline, since that would likely represent someone calm and relaxed. “They could also be dead or dying,” the security expert had noted. With that memory, Mark was glad his fingers would be of no use to the killer unless they were still attached to Mark.
    He climbed to his feet again, trying to calm himself from the violent attack. “The buttons won’t work if I’m highly stressed,” Mark told the killer. “Leave me alone so I can calm down.”
    The killer walked to the opposite side of the room and turned his back to Mark. He was clearly unconcerned that Mark would try to flee. Both men knew Mark couldn’t outrun him.
    Mark took several deep breaths and exhaled slowly. I am not confined in a room with a superman ninja with a bloody sword. Deron is not lying dead ten feet away. I am going to see Gena again soon.
    He somehow calmed himself, and then pressed the man-trap button. The man with the scar on his right cheek entered the community after the inner door opened in front of him. Mark winced. He could relate to the scar.
    The second man, the one wearing a top hat, entered the man-trap, the outer door locking behind him. Mark paused for a moment before he opened the inner door. “What are they going to do?” He glanced behind him at the killer, who had not moved from his spot.
    “One of the residents has something he should not possess. We will remedy the situation.”
    A simple robbery? That’s what this was about? Surely there were better ways to make money. Will Stark and his wife, for example, tended to be rather generous souls; they’d provided Mark and Gena gifts sufficient to cover the cost of their honeymoon. You could get money without resorting to robbery. Or murder.
    Still, he needed to be sure. “So...you aren’t going to hurt anyone else?”
    There was a pause. “No.”
    Mark wondered if he’d asked the correct question. He elected not to press the matter against the skilled killer, convincing himself that he had the assurances he needed. He pushed the man-trap button again, allowing the second man inside. The third man, the man wearing