Eye of the Beholder

something, low and incomprehensible.
    Trask decided not to waste time trying the knob. If the door was locked he would lose the element of surprise.
    He yanked the strap of the computer case off his shoulder and hurled the laptop through the glass panel.
    Someone screamed. Radstone .
    Outside, the first of the fireworks erupted, small bombs in the night. The sharp explosions mingled with the sound of breaking glass.
    Simultaneously there was another explosion, closer to hand. The figure in the pointed cap bolted for the window. Radstone crumpled to the floor without a sound.
    Trask reached through the jagged glass, wrenched open the door, and went in, fast and low.
    The jester had one leg over the sill.
    Trask launched himself forward. The toe of his low boot collided with Radstone's outflung arm.
    Trask staggered, managed to catch his balance, and vaulted after the disappearing jester. He reached the window just as the fleeing figure tumbled awkwardly over the sill.
    Trask grabbed for whatever he could catch hold of and succeeded in getting a handful of sleeve. The jester made a fist and lashed out wildly. Eyes glittered with rage and panic behind the holes in the mask.
    Trask turned his head at the last instant. The blow glanced off the side of his jaw. He tightened his grip on the jester's sleeve and hauled backward.
    The jester twisted frantically. Trask heard thin fabric rip. He made another bid to get a better grasp on his opponent. His fingers snagged on a bracelet.
    The delicate band snapped. The jester slipped free and fled into the night.
    Trask put one leg over the sill, straining to keep the jester in sight. A groan from the man on the floor stopped him. Reluctantly he eased back into the room.
    Something hard crunched under the heel of his boot. He ignored it to cross the room. He found the light switch, flicked it on, and looked down.
    Foster Radstone lay sprawled on the carpet. There was an unhealthy grayish cast to his face. He was gasping for breath. Blood soaked the front of his turquoise polo shirt.
    Trask went to the desk and grabbed the phone. Given the size of the crowd on the Institute's grounds tonight, there was bound to be some emergency personnel in the vicinity.
    He listened to Radstone's increasingly labored breathing as he rattled off the details.
    "There's an aid car standing by outside the front gate," the operator said. "I'm dispatching it now."
    "Tell ' em to hurry." Trask hung up the phone and went to crouch beside Foster. He saw no sign of an exit wound.
    "Help is on the way," he said. He shrugged out of his denim shirt, wadded it up, and shoved it over the hole in Radstone's chest. "Who did this to you?"
    Foster gurgled. His eyes fluttered again. There was barely any color left in his face.
    He was not going to get any answers tonight, Trask realized.
    "Take it easy," he said quietly. "The medics will be here any minute."
    He glanced toward the window and saw the turquoise beads scattered on the floor. A Dimensions bracelet. He recalled feeling it snap in his fingers when he had tried to retain his grip on the jester.
    Great. That meant Strood would be able to limit his pools of suspects to the entire staff of the Dimensions Institute, most of its seminar students, and half the people in Avalon.
    "Guard..." Foster whispered hoarsely. "Guard."
    Trask heard footsteps in the hall. "It's a little too late to call security."
    Foster shook his head fretfully. "Guardian."
    Trask stilled. Then he leaned closer. "Tell me about him, Radstone . Who is this guardian?"
    Foster opened his mouth, but this time no words emerged. He had stopped twitching, but now he was not moving at all. He still breathed, however. Trask held the shirt firmly in place and listened to the approaching footsteps.
    "In here," he shouted.
    Two uniformed medics came through the door. They were followed by a couple of anxious-looking men dressed in the blue and white colors of Institute personnel.
    The first medic through the door looked at Radstone and then at Trask. "What happened here?"
    "Gunshot," Trask said.
    The medic glanced at the blood on Radstone's polo shirt. "Yeah, I can see that. Okay, out of the way, we'll take over now."
    Trask rose and moved aside. One of the Dimensions men eyed him warily. "What's going on?"
    "I was outside Radstone's door when I heard an argument and a gunshot." He gave them the rest of the story in short, simple sentences without a lot of details. These were not the people who would