Rook

interrogator had clearly sensed that something was wrong, and he was sweating profusely.
    “What do they want?”
    Crisp dug in deeper and felt for the most sensitive junctures of nerves and energy, disrupting and agitating. Behind the glass, Myfanwy noticed his efforts, felt them crashing up against the barriers she had placed. There was only so much she could do against Crisp’s abilities, she admitted to herself. His influence was flowing over the walls she had created, and eventually it crashed down on the subject with unimaginable force.
    “Why are you here?”
    Van Syoc shrieked, a long shuddering wail. His mouth opened and closed, his lips flapping obscenely, and he struggled against himself.
Are those words?
Myfanwy thought.
Is that an answer?
    There was an angry buzzing coming from somewhere, building in volume. They all looked around, except for Crisp, who was intent on his project. Then there was a wet pop, and the doctor snatched his hands away from his patient and stepped back with a startled yelp. Perry gave a short laugh when he saw the doctor shaking his fingers and swearing.
    “Don’t be a fool, Perry,” Myfanwy said sharply. “Look at the body!”
    “The body,” echoed Gestalt. They all stared at Van Syoc, limp in the chair. He remained firmly bound, but there was an alarming stillness.
    Faint trails of smoke drifted around the earthly remains of Peter Van Syoc.
    W hat the hell was that, Crisp?” yelled Gestalt. The doctor had been brought into the observation room and was standing in front of a group of accusatory executives and an irate Rook. Myfanwy and Ingrid were still seated, but all the men had risen to their feet, presenting a united front. “You said that you could break anyone, that you could get us all the information we wanted!”
    “Rook Gestalt, you know my record is perfect,” Dr. Crisp said, staring down at the floor. His hands were clenched by his sides, but if Myfanwy was any judge, the man’s tension was the result of fear rather than anger. Of course, with Gestalt raging in front of him, his fear could be forgiven, but she could sense his puzzlement as well.
    “If your record is so goddamn perfect, then why is that thing in there dead?” Gestalt demanded. The lift doors swished open, and the twins were there, similarly enraged. They strode in, and everybody in the room stepped back.
    “I’m not certain myself,” said Crisp nervously. “The man hadincredible tolerance, but I would have expected nothing less from someone with his training. I pushed him well beyond normal boundaries, but frankly, he should have broken much sooner.”
    “And died?” snarled Tidy Twin.
    “Was
that
supposed to happen much sooner, Crisp?” asked Cool Twin, curling his fingers into claws.
    “We need answers, Crisp!” yelled the handsome Gestalt. “
I
need answers, and thanks to you, they will not be forthcoming!”
    “Sir, I’m sorry, I honestly can’t understand it,” Crisp replied, sweat beading on his brow.
    “No?” asked all three of the Gestalt brothers together. “Perhaps I can help you understand.” And their hands shot out and linked around Crisp’s neck. Working together, the brothers lifted the doctor off the ground. “Can you understand
this?
”
    “Gestalt,” said Myfanwy tensely.
Is Gestalt actually going to kill this person in front of us all?
she thought.
Is this normal? What the hell kind of organization
is
this?
“Stop.” All attention snapped to her. She could feel three pairs of beautiful blue eyes staring, frantic and enraged. “While I have no doubt of Dr. Crisp’s talents, I think it is quite beyond him to make a body burn itself. Isn’t that right, Dr. Crisp?” The man nodded frantically even as he squirmed in the grip around his throat. “There is something at work here that we do not see. So let us be sensible and put the good doctor down.”
You psycho.
She saw reason return to all three faces. Crisp was lowered to the ground.
    “Does anybody have any ingenious suggestions?” the Robert body asked, suddenly calm. The twins had turned and were walking away to the lift. Dr. Crisp was gasping on the floor, and all the men were looking at Myfanwy expectantly. Presumably they thought Gestalt was less likely to throttle her. “Well, Rook Thomas, what would
you
suggest?”
    “There are a couple of things,” she said slowly, stalling for more thinking time. She opened her notebook and flipped through the pages, her brow furrowed as