A Question of Will Read Free Page B

the cloak, gave a bow with a bit of a flourish, and then entered the man-trap before being admitted into the neighborhood by Mark.
    He glanced at the section of the control panel nearest the man-trap section. It contained a panic button, which would alert the police to a problem at De Gray Estates for which telephone communication was impossible. He could click on that button, and perhaps the police would arrive quickly enough to apprehend these men. That meant Gena would no longer be at any risk. He shifted slightly to the left.
    The killer seized him and threw him to the floor, the malevolent blood-red eyes alternately searing a hole through him and freezing every cell of his being. The man’s sword pointed at him, unerring, the finger on his left hand waving as he tsked at Mark. He then waved at Mark with the sword, motioning him away from the man-trap and panic buttons, and to the opposite side of the Station, facing the community rather than the street.
    He watched the three men he’d just allowed into the community. Three men who were going to rob one of the residents of something these men believed they shouldn’t possess. Men willing to kill to accomplish their goals. He glanced at Deron again, a graphic reminder of that fact. Deron would never again return home to his wife and young son. As he looked outside, he saw smoke. The half-dozen covered golf carts residents and guests could use to cover the distance from the front gate to their homes were all in flames. Anyone entering the community on foot would have a longer journey home than they’d expected.
    The men reached a central cul-de-sac just inside the gate area, where the residents ceased to be neighbors and traveled upon long, isolated driveways to their secluded homes, as much as a mile away. The men veered sharply left, indicating that they were off to rob the Starks.
    Mark cringed inwardly. The Starks were the family in this neighborhood he would least want to see harmed. The other four families residing here represented every negative stereotype of wealth imaginable: old, arrogant, condescending, cheap, and stingy. The Starks were the polar opposites. They were young, in their thirties at most, which made them young enough to be the children or grandchildren of the other residents. Both were active in the community, with far more trips outside the fortress due to community and charitable activities than commutes to Will’s office building or personal outings. Most importantly, they were exceptionally generous with their wealth, always looking for excuses to give money away, funding new business ventures to such a degree that the domed city of Pleasanton had become an entrepreneurial haven. The children in the community played sports and engaged in various activities on fields, courts, and diamonds funded by the Starks, an endeavor likely driven by baseball-enthusiast Will. Rumor was that the Starks furnished uniforms, handled fees for umpires and officials, and generally made sure that a lack of funds was never a reason to deny a child the chance to participate in athletics.
    Mark was cringing for another reason. Hope Stark was at home, and the three men were likely to encounter her as they searched for whatever item that wanted to take. Given what happened to Deron already, it was difficult to see Hope surviving their raid on her home.
    He needed to do something to help Hope, without appearing to help her. “What do the Starks have that you don’t want them to possess?”
    The killer didn’t respond.
    “I’ve been to their house. I don’t think they keep much money there, and they really don’t keep many possessions in the house either, at least nothing of any value. Surely, men of your skills can find better places to rob? What do they have that you don’t think they should have?”
    The soulless red eyes turned to him. “Freedom. Life.”
    “What?” Mark spluttered. “I... I thought you said you weren’t going to hurt