Evil Star

cut in. "We don't like this any more than you do, Matt. We never wanted to bring you here."
    Matt believed her. "All right," he said.
    A decision had been made, but even now Matt wasn't convinced that he'd been the one who'd made it. Much later that night, as he lay in his bed on the third floor of the hotel, he told himself that soon it would all be over. He'd meet with Morton. He'd get the diary. And Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star that would be the end of it.
    But somehow he didn't believe it.
    Everything that had happened in the last few days had been done against his wishes. And what happened next would be the same.
    There was no way out for him. He had to get used to it. There were strange forces all around him and they were never going to let him go.

    ************************************
    Ten thousand miles away, a man was approaching his desk.
    It was the middle of the afternoon in the town of lea, just south of the Peruvian capital of Lima. Peru was five hours behind Britain.
    The sun was shining brilliantly, and as the room was open to the elements, with a tiled floor that stretched past a row of pillars into the courtyard, the entire room was flooded with light. High above, a fan turned slowly, not actually cooling anything but giving the illusion that it might. The man could hear the gentle sound of water splashing. An old fountain played in the court-yard. A few chickens pecked at the gravel. There were flowers everywhere and their scent hung heavy in the air.
    The man was fifty-seven years old, dressed in a white linen suit that hung off him in such a way that it might still have been in the wardrobe. He moved slowly and with dif-ficulty, reaching out with his hands to find his chair and to lower himself into it.
    He was horribly deformed.
    He was unnaturally tall — well over six feet — but what gave him his extra height was his head, which was twice as long as it should have been. The head was huge, its eyes so high up that on anyone else they would have been in the middle of the forehead. He had a Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star few tufts of hair that were really no color at all, but mainly he was bald, with liver spots all over his skin. His nose extended all the way down to his mouth, which was too small in relation to everything else. A child's mouth in an adult face. A muscle twitched in the side of his neck as he moved. The neck was obviously strug-gling to hold up such a great weight.
    The man's name was Diego Salamanda. He was the chair-man of one of the largest companies in South America. Salamanda News International had built an empire with newspapers and magazines, television stations, hotels, and telecommunications. Some people claimed that SNI owned Peru. And Diego Salamanda was the sole owner, the chair-man, and the single stockholder of SNI.
    His head had been stretched quite deliberately. It was a practice from more than a thousand years before. Some of the ancient tribes of Peru had selected newly born babies whom they believed to be
    "special" and had forced them to live with their head sandwiched between two wooden planks. This was what caused the abnormal growth. It was supposed to be an honor. Salamanda's parents had known that their baby was special. So they had done the same to him.
    And he was grateful for it.
    They had caused him pain. They had made him hid-eous. They had prevented him from ever enjoying a normal human relationship. But they had been right. They had recognized his talents the very day he was born.
    The telephone rang. Still moving slowly, Salamanda reached out and took the receiver. It looked slightly ridicu-lous, far too small, as he held it against his ear.
    “Yes." He didn't need to give his name. This was a pri-vate number.

    Horowitz, Anthony - [Gatekeepers 02] - Evil Star Only a handful of people had it. They would know who they were calling.
    "It's at twelve o'clock tomorrow," the voice at the other end said.
    "He's going to be at a church in London. St. Meredith's."
    "Very good." Both of them were speaking in English. It was the language that Salamanda used for all his business.
    "What do you want me to do?" the voice asked.
    “You have done enough, my friend. And you will be rewarded. Now you can leave it to me."

    "What will you do?"
    Salamanda paused. An ugly light shimmered in his strangely colorless eyes. He didn't like being asked ques-tions. But he was in a generous mood. "I will take the diary and kill