"You said contempt, um, about everything, made

  him deadly," she went on, returning the subject to

  Stavers. "How do you mean that?"

  His laugh was more deep chuckle now and he shook

  his head in a visible derision of her attempt to probe.

  "Don't go Freud on me, Doe. Remember? We're a

  team? Ask your questions straight out or," he paused

  that briefest of time clicks, barely perceptible but heavy

  with meaning, "you go straight out of here."

  "Sorry," she murmured, lowering her eyes.

  "Sure you are," he said easily. "No fish likes the

  hook. "

  She looked up sharply. Who the hell is the doctor

  here? she wondered. He's playing with ine, damnit!

  And he's right. Stay straight with the questions, Doc,

  she added as a final silent admonition.

  "He reminds me of a cat," she said suddenly. "Feral,

  deadly, but not like a tiger." She reflected a moment,

  called up a mental picture. "A sabertooth. Shorter,

  more muscle-coupled in body-"

  "Excellent," Marden told her with evident pleasure.

  "Sabertooth. Yeah. Very good."

  "This is not a leading question. It is-I'm-serious. If

  be is without weapons, the so-called great claws and

  fangs of the cat and any variety of weapons in the man,

  what then separates him from the pack@' How does the

  contempt fit in as an advantage?"

  "Well, consider bow the big cats function," Marden

  said thoughtfully, and Rebecca Weinstein knew he spoke

  as much from experience as contemplation, "A jaguar's

  a good example. When he gets into a scrape, every

  thought is dedicated to the kill, or, to his own self-

  preservation. It's all instinct tempered with experience,

  but I can't see how there's deliberate thought to it.

  Instinct, reaction, slavish to needs, and in an animal

  like that' desire and need are the same."

  Marden put aside the bottle and took the moment to

  light n fiuqr Pic k-f-A f--+ --4-A A ....... __ - I__

  DARK MESSIAH

  27

  table before him. "Doug does what the cat can't do.

  First, he can select any cerebral level he wants for any

  particular situation. He can sidestep instinct, he plans

  his moves, and he takes instant advantage of any oppor-

  tunity that comes to him. Do you see what I'm getting

  at? He's like a super computer that's also the jaguar. He

  gets into the scrape with absolute killing efficiency, but

  a part of him is constantly, in realtime, updating what's

  going on. I said he was contemptuous and when he's in

  the thick of it he's also contemptuous of his own life."

  Marden smiled with a swift passage of memory. "That's

  the greatest of all the weapons. There's an old saying

  that all creatures always choose the least difficult of two

  pathways. Exclude Doug from that. He's totally objec-

  tive when his life is on the line. He doesn't worry about

  being killed. You take time out for that and you've

  given away the initiative."

  Her brow creased with the words. "But the instinct

  for self-preservation," she offered in mild protest.

  "If he gives that away, doesn't he make himself more

  vulnerable?"

  "In a fight to the death, lady, that figures only if you

  stop to figure it."

  "That's a neat little catch 22," she said.

  I guess so. You see, Doc, you're asking for rational-

  ization. You start doing that in a brawl and likelv you're

  dead before you can reach any conclusions. " He jau'gbed

  loudly with his own words. "Shit, I like that," he mur-

  mured. "Never thought of it that way, but that's the

  way it works."

  "You're saying, then, and I'm trying to get this cor-

  rectly," she added quickly, "that if he has all those

  other attributes of fighting, or killing, or whatever, then

  never questioning that he'll win becornes its own

  weapon

  "Beautiful," he said with admiration. "You've cut

  through the thickets, Doc."

  I don't think it's contempt, Skip." His facial react-Ion

  told her she'd sliced neatly with a verbal blade.

  "It may be contempt for the opposition." she went

  nn liiif nnf fnr bimqplf 14P'v. ch-Pner th @i n th;it. "

  28

  Martin Caidin

  "You're the doctor. You tell me, then."

  "He's free of the restrictions and the inhibitions that

  affect just about all of us in our lives." Rebecca Weinstein

  smiled. "Even this little exchange has emphasized to

  me, through you, that we all lie a little every day to

  protect ourselves. You caught me playing a word game

  with you and you came at me with almost physical

  force. I hadn't intended to play the game, yet," she

  brought herself up a bit straighter in her seat, "there I

  was at the old word tricks." She made a steeple of her

  fingers and peered at Marden.

  "It, s not simply indifference," she repeated. "He's

  aloof He's beyond indifference or contempt."

  "The word," Marden said with a sly smile, the mind

  once again emerging above the brute, "is committed.

  That's the word, Doe. You see, Doug is a man of

  incredible logic. His mind's more than a computer. It's

  a whole goddamned bank of computers. But he lives in

  the real world. You know the real world? There's no

  Easter Bunny. And the whole world is a rotten neigh-

  borhood at three o'clock in the morning. So when hit

  comes to shove, and your ass and life are on the line,

  and anything logic can do has been done, then you shift

  those gears between your ears and in your gut to the

  survival mode. Then logic is for diddly-shit and physical

  action is ,,,hat keeps you alive, Th@at@s when killing,

  destroying, eliminating the opposition, whatever you

  want to call it, is the only logic."

  Marden studied her for a long moment, appreciated

  her silence, and went on. "You were almost right when

  you said he wasn't really indifferent. Almost, Doc. You

  just got to change the words a little. Unconsidered

  indifference to the lives and affairs of anybody, to any

  person, who's not important to Doug Stavers. There's

  the keyhole, baby. He is totally uninterested in any-

  thing else. Your life touches his, he accepts you, but

  only under his own rules, and lie never considers the

  rules of anyone else."

  "And he gets away with it?" she asked, knowing it

  was true even as she indicated a tinge of disbelief in her

  words,

  DARK MESSIAH

  29

  "Gets away with it?" Marden chuckled again. "He is it. "

  "And it carries across the physical line," she murmured.

  "What?"

  I said it carries across the physical line. Into the rest

  of his life. His business activities, and I have only a

  hazy glimpse of what he does. international affairs,

  political, military," she paused and went on almost at

  once, "his personal lifestyle, his women-"

  "Back off, Doc." She didn't mistake the real warnirig

  in his tone. "There's quicksand out there and you're

  headed straight for it. You ever see him buckass naked?"

  The question hit her with sudden surprise. "W-why,

  yes, of course, I mean, I'm his doctor, and-"

  "Why are you so flustered?" Marden sat straight now,

  feet planted solidly on the floor, eyes boring into hers.

  "I didn't ask you if you were a doctor, so why tell Me

  what I already know? You ever see the man swinging-

  dick naked, damnit!"

  She had control again. "Yes," she said firmly.

  "Then that's what you think about," Marden snapped.

  "The physical man. Well-being. Health. Strength. All

  those good things. Stay out of where you don't belong."

  I didn't mean-" Her hand was half-raised in protest.

  "The fuck you didn't," he said heavily. He got up and

  left her staring at an empty door-way.

  She gaped at what a moment before bad been eiripty

  space. Marden was back, his great bulk loorning in the

  space, filling the doorway, one hand on each side as if

  he were holding up the building. He had a look of stone

  about his face, unreadable, a cover of great ennotion

  roiling his mind.

  "You haven't inet the real Stavers yet, have you?" He

  didn't ask the question but hurled it at her like a javelin.

  Something brought her to her feet, a sense of a

  terribly critical mornent at hand. "The real Stavers?"

  she eciroed. "I don't understand-"

  "You will when you do." He shook his head with the

  sound of his own inadequate words. "I meant to say,

  you'll understand what I mean when you meet the real

  Stavers. The one that's down, real-deepdown. The One

  A-f -nl@ @1,@ ("Iminu to -(Irshin."

  30 Martin Caidin

  This is crazy. What does he nwan about people com-

  ing to-

  "You ever meet a god, Doe?"

  She had a firm grip on herself "You sound as if

  YOU ve lost your mind, Skip. " She almost laughed aloud,

  "Oh, thanks for the tip. But I haven't. Lost my mind,

  that is." He laughed softly, a breeze of sound from his

  great bulk, "But when you meet the one I'm talking

  about, you'd better hang on to yours."

  That was days ago. Now, here and now, was the

  second floor of Vulcan Flight Operations, a massive

  two-story structure in the heart of the Marine Terminal

  of LaGuardia Airport in the borough of Queens in New

  York City. Like almost everything else associated with

  Doug Stavers, only part of the Vulcan facility could be

  seen by the eye. The entire perimeter of the second

  floor held a row of offices that girdled the building.

  Deep inside the structure, surrounded by those offices,

  was the private domain of Doug Stavers who, through

  an intricate web of corporate stepdown holdings, was

  the true owner of all of Vulcan Flight, one of the largest

  and most successful jet charter and sales operations in

  the world,

  To the men and women who staffed Vulcan Flight,

  this inner saDCtUM, to which admittance was granted to

  an inteDsely screened and investigated few, was known

  simply as the Anechoic Chamber, The room of no ech-

  oes. The chamber of silence. No one discussed the

  structure, its inhabitants or visitors. You did not talk

  about it. Period. Any such conversation resulted in

  instant dismissal. Any conversation made for the spe-

  cific benefit of anyone with too many questions in mind

  about Vulcan or Stavers often resu@itted in an obituarv

  within Se@17 eral days of the fatal indiscretion.

  The Chamber had nothing to do with the flying, sales

  or operational affairs of Vulcan Flight. It was but one of'

  a dozen similar facilities maintaine(I throughout the coun-

  try. A magnificent collection of apartments, hot baths,

  rnedical facilities, superb communications systems and

  A in -4, Tf

  DARK MESSIAH

  31

  fort, services and security desired by Doug Stavers

  when and where he want4

  And where he now turned slowly, stark naked, be-

  fore the sharp eyes of Dr. Rebecca Weinstein. She

  recalled her conversations with Skip Marden about

  Stavers; once again she experienced the strange sensa-

  tion of surprise at always seeming to discover some-

  thing different about tfiis man that she had missed

  before. She knew the human body in the most exquisite

  detail and once again, as always, she reflected with no

  small wonder as his muscles rippled with that marvel-

  ous combination of hardness and flex. She had exam-

  ined Stavers in detail, had kneaded those muscles and

  discovered the broken bones in his wrists and arms and

  legs. The X-ray file told its own grim story of past

  terrible damag@, and it took only the naked eye to see

  the scars of bullet punctures, the thin and often jagged

  white lines of steel slicing his flesh. She shuddered at

  the sight of whip burns laced into his back and buttocks

  and legs. She shuddered not only because of the wounds

  and rips and tears but because §tavers had a marvelous

  skin structure, like prime leather well kneaded. She

  looked for and found the deep scar along the third

  finger of his left hand. This mark needed no explana-

  tion; Skip Marden had told her about it.

  "It came from a gold ring. Not the ring itself but

  because it was there," he related. "I watched the whole

  thing. Angola. I tried to get to him but a concussion

  grenade had knocked me into never-never land and my

  legs wouldn't work. Doug had been blasted by the

  same shock wave and I saw him face down in muck,

  trying to turn over to breathe. A native soldier, crazy

  bastard, pulled a knife. Tried to cut off his finger to get

  the ring."

  "From the looks of that scar . he didn't get it, did

  he?" she asked.

  Marden shook his head. "Doug got his fingers into

  the bastard's eyes. Then he got him by the throat. It

  saved his life. The native pulled back and Doug held on

  and that goddarnned black just pulled Doug out of the

  11-ff.111 'Ili+ - -71-4-1- it -7nQ Dmicy npvpr Ipt vo. H e,

  32 Martin Caidin

  crushed that bastard's jugular. I mean, pulped it like it

  was a rotten grapefruit. Then he dragged me the hell

  out of there." Marden shook his head. I was supposed

  to watch his back and there he was saving my life."

  "Where are you, Doc?"

  Stavers' voice pushed aside the strange flow in her

  mind from past to present. She came to with a sudden

  start, flustered. 1-I'm sorry," she said quickly. I was

  thinking, remembering-"

  "About what?"

  He stood before her, splendidly nude, completely

  oblivious to their physical proximity. She fought for

  clarity in her thoughts.

  "About you," she forced out. "Scars, burns, bones. I

  told you. You were crazy to do what you did."

  "Yes. You told me."

  She reached for his hand, turned it to expose the raw

  scrape of skin. She reached behind her to a cabinet,

  withdrew a bottle of clear iodine. "This may hurt." Her

  words sounded lame even as she spoke them but there

  was no way to recall what must have been an insipid

  remark to him. Angrily she poured iodine freely on the

  scrape. A white froth rose on his skin. No flinch; no

  reaction.

  "That's it?" he asked. His voice seemed to ring a bell

  of humor.

  "Yes. Will you shower now please? And really scrub

  in that special soap." She sig@ed. I meant what I said

  before. About what you were exposed to."

  "You should go to Calcutta. Or Cairo, Someplace like

  that," he said matter-of-factly. "Eighth Avenue's anti-

  septic by comparison."

  She gestured to the harness snugged tightly about his

  chest and back. "Aren't you going to remove that strap-

  ping first?"

  His eyes became a dark fire. "No,- he said, his voice

  bareiv audible. "Don't ask about it again. Don't refer to

  it in any way unless I bring it up first, And do not,

  please, minimize what I've just said to you. Your life

  could deDend on it. k f6f rle;4r h, voll?"

  DARK MESSIAH

  33

  She met his gaze. It took all her strength. The inten-

  sity of his eyes robbed her of physical strength. "Yes,"

  she said finally, her voice almost a croak.

  "Good. Get the dogs in here." He walked into the

  shower room. She paused only a moment, turned to a

  wall phone, picked it up, tapped in the number four,

  three times. "Templin here."

  "The dogs, now," she spoke into the phone. She was

  a quick learner. One of the first things she'd teamed

  was that when an order was being given you didn't use

  many words and you never gave explanations. Almost

  immediately a side door opened. At Templin, ebony

  dark with glistening bald head, two revolvers in under-

  arm holsters, held open the door. He looked down and

  to the side. "Guard," he commanded.

  Two large dogs came quickly into the room. Luger

  trotted to the entryway of the shower room, turned to

  face her, and sat stolidly. One hundred and twenty-five

  pounds looked at her, unblinking. Nothing would get

  past him to that shower now until Stavers released the

  great Bernese Mountain Dog from his guard station.

  The second animal, almost as large, trotted to her and

  lay down at her feet, Rebel was of the same breed.

  They were gorgeous dogs, black and rust and white.

  Before she came to work for Doug Stavers she'd never

 

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