Koontz, Dean - Night Chills by Koontz Dean

Author:Koontz, Dean [Koontz, Dean]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Ordinarily, in a backwoods village like this,” Salsbury said, “each house would have its own fresh-water well. But the mill needs a reservoir for industrial purposes, so the town benefits.”

“How did you choose Black River? Where did you learn all of this stuff?”

Salsbury depressed a tab on the programming keyboard and cleared the screen. “In 1960, Leonard bankrolled a company named Statistical Profiles Incorporated. It does all the marketing research for his other companies—and for companies he doesn’t own. It pays for a trunk line to the Census Bureau data banks. \Ve used Statistical Profiles to run a search for the ideal test site. Of course, they didn’t know why we were interested in a town that met these particular requirements.”

Frowning, the general said, “How many people at Statistical Profiles were involved in the search?”

“Two,” Salsbury said. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t worry. They’re both scheduled to die in accidents well before we begin the field test.”

“I suppose we’ll send Rossner and Holbrook to contaminate the reservoir.”

“Then we get rid of them.”

The general raised his bushy eyebrows. “Kill them?”

“Or order them to commit suicide.”

“Why not just tell them to forget everything they’ve done, to wipe it from their minds?”

“That might save them from prosecution if things went badly wrong. But it wouldn’t save us. We can’t wipe from our minds all memory of what we had them do. If problems develop with the field test, serious problems that throw our entire Operation in the garbage, and if it turns out that Rossner and Holbrook were seen at the reservoir or left any clues behind—

well, we don’t want the authorities to connect us with Glenn and Peter.”

“What problems could arise that would be that serious?”

“Anything. Nothing. I don’t know.”

After he bad thought about it for a while, Klinger said, “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“I know I am.”

“Have you set a date yet? For the field test?”

“We should be ready by August,” Salsbury said.

9

Friday, August 26, 1977

TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT . . Since his experience with Brenda Mackim on Monday, Salsbury had been able to resist temptation. At any time he could have taken full control of another good-looking woman, could have raped her and erased all memory of the act from her mind. He took strength from the knowledge that the bitches were his for the asking. Whenever he could honestly conclude that the field test was a smashing success, and that no danger of discovery existed, he would screw every one of them that he wanted. The bitches. Animals. Little animals. Dozens of them. All of them. Because he knew the future held an almost endless orgy for him, be was able to cop; if only temporarily, with his desire.

He went from house to house, using the key-lock code phrase, interviewing his subjects, observing and testing. Denying himself. Working hard. Doing his job.

So strict with himself. . . He was proud of his will power.

This morning his will power shattered. For the past four nights, his sleep had been disturbed by grotesque

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