The Black Hats The Killers The Last Supper: The Max Grannit Stories

By Dick Morris

Collected Edition 

The Black Hats 

A journey to hell for three innocent people.

A visit to The Dome, the most advanced, most automated, and most secure prison in the world, to do an article for a magazine, turns into a nightmare for Max Grannit and Maria De Marco when the most dangerous criminals in the world find a flaw in The Dome's security..

The Killers 

Slaughter in the bay... The Second Max Grannit adventure. Fresh from his ordeal at the hands of the black hats, Grannit wants only a quiet life. Then he saves the life of a girl in a New York Street and, once more, his troubles begin...    

The Last Supper

What do you give five millionaires who have everything? The powers of a Roman emperor? The highest snuff party in the world? Not enough. It needs to be something money cannot buy. And you’d better not get in their way. They think Max Grannit does when he foils a terrorist plot and is dragged onto television as a hero. They think he might wreck their fiendish plans. The terrorists’ cohorts are after him too. And he’s completely on his own. That is, until three mysterious people invite him to dinner at a luxurious lakeside villa. They want his help. The only problem is, they do not know why they want his help…

The Last Supper is the third in the Max Grannit series of thrillers. Set in France, Switzerland, Austria, and Germany, it is a journey through menace.

About 181000 words 

                                               

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dick Morris
• Release date: Jun 24, 2016
• ISBN: 9781524289782

Dick Morris

Dick Morris served as Bill Clinton's political consultant for twenty years. A regular political commentator on Fox News, he is the author of ten New York Times bestsellers (all with Eileen McGann) and one Washington Post bestseller.

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Table of Contents

The Black Hats  The Killers  The Last Supper | Collected Edition | The Black Hats | The Killers | The Last Supper

The Black Hats

The Killers

The Last Supper

The End

The Black Hats  The Killers  The Last Supper

Collected Edition

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The Black Hats

The Killers

The Last Supper

by Dick Morris

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Copyright 2014-6 Dick Morris

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, please contact:

http://richygm.wix.com/dick-morris-books

Published by: dick morris – carla bowman - books

Other books by Dick Morris:

Pelican - Escape or Die*

Dark Harbour*

The Investigators*

The Curse*

The Castle*

The Ruin*

The Weather Station*

Blood Island*

Cursed Slaughtered Hunted*

*Also available as paperbacks

This is a work of fiction and characters are imaginary. Any resemblance they might have to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

(Both UK and US spellings are used in these novels.)

The Black Hats

Welcome to The Dome! Warden George T. Buckley's words boomed into the two reception rooms.

The two new inmates looked around the rooms in an attempt to discover from where the voice came. They failed. The rooms into which the guards had pushed them appeared to have featureless floors, featureless walls, and almost featureless ceilings, made of what appeared to be continuous stainless steel sheet. Even the doors through which they had been pushed were now indistinguishable from the walls into which they had been set. Light came from fluorescent tubes set flush with the ceiling.

The loudspeaker was up there by the lights, Rocco Bilari thought. Most likely the light fitting incorporated it. Because where else could it be? Gia Glutman, who, like Bilari, had also been trying to figure out the same thing, came, simultaneously, to the same conclusion.

The Dome, as you are probably aware, prisoner, Buckley went on, is the most advanced, the most automated, and the most secure prison in the world. And I am Warden Buckley. He paused before continuing because he particularly savored what he would say next. I am your jailer, prisoner...and I am your god!

The fuck... Bilari began, falling into the trap. Buckley had anticipated this. His finger had hovered over a button on his console. The finger descended onto the button and Bilari yelled and fell to the floor as the electroshock beam fired from the undetectable device in the wall hit him above a kidney. For some moments Buckley left Bilari on all fours, one hand reaching for, but not finding, the object that had hit him in the back, drool falling from his lips, his face contorted by pain, before saying, mildly: Be respectful, Mister Bilari, be respectful.

Buckley glanced at the screen that showed Gia Glutman. She looked blankly around the walls of her room. Her time would come, Buckley thought, her time would come. Get to your feet, Mister Bilari, Buckley ordered. Obey your god, he added. He smiled thinly, for today he was in his hard man mood. Because of the people he was dealing with here. Buckley was, when he felt  it appropriate, a Benthamite. At other times, he could be quite the reverse. This evening, he was the latter. Because these people, in his view – and these days he was never wrong - were beyond all hope. Forty years experience in the prison service told him that. These people were real black hats. These people were baddies through and through.  He himself was, of course, a white hat. He was the good guy. He was the Sheriff, and he was cleaning up society for the common good. 

Bilari pulled himself unsteadily to his feet, stumbled, fell, and tried a second time. Finally, he got himself upright once again. He tottered. Buckley waited a moment, his eyes on Bilari. You, Mister Bilari, he announced, have been sentenced to nine life sentences to run consecutively. There will be no parole. And, I have to warn you, there is no appeal against the way I decide to treat you. You will be a prisoner here in The Dome for the rest of your natural life. And I, and my counterpart, will have total power over you. I can do anything to you that I wish. Short of, that is, killing you. But believe me, Mister Bilari, if you upset me too much I can make your existence such that you will wish you were dead.

Buckley switched to the loudspeaker in Glutman's room. You, Miss Glutman, have been sentenced to five life terms, which are to run consecutively. There will be no parole. And, I have to warn you, there is no appeal against the way I decide to treat you. You will be a prisoner here in The Dome for the rest of your natural life. And I, and my counterpart, will have total power over you. I can do anything to you that I wish. Short of, that is, killing you. But believe me, Miss Glutman, if you upset me too much, I can make your existence such that you will wish you were dead

Go through the door behind you, Buckley ordered, as doors opened in the walls behind both prisoners. The warden watched as Bilari and Glutman turned, hesitated, and then walked forward into the next rooms. If he ever thought he would be able to reform these two people, he'd be ready to give it a try. But his long experience of criminal behavior told him it would not. And so he wouldn't. 

The rooms into which Bilari and Glutman had walked were identical in size to the previous ones: they measured fifteen feet by fifteen feet and, like the previous ones, were apparently walled with seamless stainless steel. In the center of each room was what appeared to be a high-tech examination bed with various arms and attachments fitted to it and large high intensity lamps overhead. And, just as the prisoners entered, a large drawer slid out of one wall. On this was a red plastic crate.

It is time for your physical examination, Buckley's voice announced. Strip!

You've got to be joking! Glutman said. Buckley's finger was ready and, in an instant, Glutman had screamed and was on the floor and groaning loudly. Buckley had set the shock he had given her to be equivalent, minus ten percent and taking into account her gender, apparent physical condition, and apparent body weight, to the one he had given Bilari. Be respectful, Miss Glutman, be respectful, Buckley's voice purred. Buckley looked on as Glutman first tried to get to her feet, failed, fell back onto the floor, and then struggled first to her knees, and then to her unsteady feet. You heard me, Miss Glutman, Buckley said. What do you wait for? Put all of your apparel in the red plastic crate.  Glutman started to remove her clothing, fumbling at first, her hands lacking real co-ordination. That's the way, Miss Glutman, Buckley purred. That's the way, Miss Glutman.  Bilari was already nude. He was a big guy, Buckley thought. A mammoth of a man, with thighs like oaks, shoulders like sailing ship beams, and hands like hams. Buckley studied the massive pectoral muscles, and the taut abdominals. Bilari was not only strong, but also in good shape. It had taken ten guards to overpower him, Buckley recalled, and each of those guards would have been far from being a weakling. And he was not only strong, but very intelligent too, and deadly with a handgun, for one of his circus acts had been sharp shooting. He was, in short, not the sort of enemy you would want to meet in a dark alley. Come to think of it, Bilari was not the sort of enemy you would want to meet anyplace. But now he had been quarantined. And so, finally,  the rest of the world was safe. Buckley spotted a small black object on Bilari's lower abdomen. He zoomed his camera in to see more clearly what it was. It was a small tattoo, a tattoo of a skull and crossbones. Buckley scanned both the front and back of Bilari's body looking for more tattoos, but he found none. Bilari had had a circus act in his early years, in which he had challenged all comers to feats of strength. During the five years he had been in that business, not a single challenger had got the better of him. And then he had taken to crime.

He had got himself into debt through his relationship with a woman, and had robbed a passer-by of his wallet to grab a bit of cash. But police had been nearby and he's been apprehended almost immediately. His sentence had been light but he was soon in debt again. Having found robbery easy, he used the method to settle his debts a second time. On this occasion, he took greater care, and was not caught. Ten years were to pass before he finally was apprehended. Then, it was for murder. Or, to be exact, for ten murders. His first victim had been a drug addict who had witnessed Bilari's latest mugging. Shortly after that, he had killed his second man. It seemed, Buckley thought, that Bilari had found making a living from crime easier than working in a circus. But how easy was circus work? Buckley pondered the issue for a moment. Fairly easy, he would have thought. But killing was easier. Besides, Bilari soon discovered he could earn big money by being a hit man. But why did he become a cannibal? Firstly, in order to torture his victim, it seemed. And then because he found he liked the taste of human flesh.

The first man he had partly eaten had been a guy who had hired him to kill a love rival. Bilari had tied him up and started eating him, alive, before finally killing him with a hammer blow to the head. He had first bitten off the victim's ears, and had moved on to chewing off his fingers. And it had got worse from there. For, it seemed, he had started an addiction. Indeed, it seemed he had chosen his next victim simply in order to eat particular parts of her. She had been a beautiful blonde prostitute and Bilari had eaten selected parts of her body after first having sex with her... Buckley skipped  the detailed list of the young woman's body parts Bilari had eaten. He wanted to enjoy his dinner. He turned his attention, instead, to Glutman's screen. Bilari's story had become too gruesome even for a downy old bird such as he. 

Glutman stood, immobile, quite naked, looking ahead, waiting. Buckley studied her body. Like Bilari, she was in good shape Buckley thought, and she looked as if she must have worked out regularly and, he saw now - pulling up everything that the authorities had on her on a side screen - that she had been keen on yoga. With long black hair, she was of above average height, and of a very solid build, Buckley noted, and heavily tattooed. He zoomed in to study the tattoos in greater detail, switching between cameras as he did so. Glutman had a dragon tattooed on each shoulder blade, he noted, snakes down either side of her body from the sides of her breasts, which had large dark nipples, to the edge of her black pubic hair, a large red star in the middle of her abdomen, just below her navel, and unidentifiable designs on her upper arms. And her criminal career, was as illustrious, if that was the way to describe it, as Bilari's. A university drop out, Glutman seemed to blame all of the woes of the world on some establishment conspiracy. At first she had restricted her actions to various protest groups and marches, but then she had moved up the scale quickly and had soon caused her first fatality. This was, Buckley recalled now, a fellow anarchist, a strong male too, whom Glutman killed when he tried to rape her. Understandable though this killing was, her subsequent killings could never be condoned.

It seemed Glutman had been infuriated by the media's criticism of her and her two followers, and so she had blown up a bus. Twelve people had been killed; two of them children, but the response hadn't pleased Glutman enough. So her next atrocity was to blow up a train. This caused twice the casualties of the bus atrocity, and now the hunt for Glutman was on.

But she proved impossible to track down. Some people ascribed this to her reputed skill in disguising herself, with the help, it was said, of one of her supporters, who was said to have been a make up specialist. Others said she used different associates to carry out her next group of atrocities, and that she herself  remained in hiding. Then her biggest atrocity, the blowing up of a crowded subway train, with massive casualties, caused to be launched a nationwide manhunt. But still Glutman could not be found.

And the trail seemed to go cold. Some reporters suggested Glutman was dead. Some, indeed, suggested she had killed herself so that she would never be brought to justice, so that she would become a legend, and her end a mystery to humanity. Some suggested she had left the country although, with every law enforcement officer seeking her, and with every intelligence service seeking her, how she had managed to do this was unexplained. But then she had re-appeared. Indeed, she had given herself up. Why? Everybody had asked that question. Finally, it had been Glutman who had given the answer. She'd given it at her trial. She'd given herself up, she'd told the court, to show she could escape from any prison. Yes, that was the answer she'd given. With her IQ, she'd said, no prison could hold her for long. And so it had proved. For the first prison, at least. It had held her for just six months. Then she had escaped. She'd been free for six months, and then had given herself up once more. Now she was in The Dome. Buckley studied her. He was certain she would never escape from The Dome. 

Get onto the examination table! Buckley finally ordered both of his charges. Lie on your back. Bilari did that first, Glutman was not far behind. As their bodies flattened on the plastic covered examination tables, mechanical arms locked themselves around the prisoners' necks, wrists, and ankles. The arms adjusted their positions, moving the prisoners' arms to a position at right angles to their bodies, and opening their legs wide, as Buckley's right finger hovered over the control panel for a moment, and then selected: Physical Examination-Thorough-Begin. Buckley chose another parameter and selected Internal and Maximum for both of the prisoners, and sat back, a look of satisfaction on his face.

Within seconds, the automated examination system began to deliver readings on the prisoners' physical health, as multiple probes made contact with their bodies. The prisoners' noses were closed so that they opened their mouths to breath and, as they did this, flexible arms entered their mouths to examine the interior of their mouths and their throats. Next, through apertures in the surface of the examination tables, probes entered their lower openings. Bilari cried out as a probe entered his rectum and, moments later, Glutman yelled as a speculum entered her vagina. Simultaneously, a probe entered her rectum, as Buckley looked on, his face displaying the belief that he did a good job. Both the probes and the speculum were large enough to cause their subjects considerable discomfort and, moreover, were cold enough, and un-lubricated enough to add to the pain.

Buckley studied the screens. The one on the left showed the inside of Bilari's throat and rectum; that on the right the interior of Glutman's vagina, throat, and rectum. Buckley switched to views of the prisoners' faces and noted with satisfaction that pain contorted both. The screens also gave readings for the prisoners' external condition and internal health. Buckley noted that both were in good health, but he was not finished yet. His left index finger alighted on a touch screen listing first: Internal Examination, then: Re-examine. The probes and speculum withdrew from the prisoners' bodies and, seconds later, went back in. Both of the prisoners yelled again, and Glutman managed to shout: You sadistic... before the instruments re-entered her mouth and throat. Buckley pressed a button and Glutman yelled once more as the electroshock passed though her body. She immediately lay still, but her face gave her feelings away.

Be respectful, Miss Glutman, be respectful, Buckley said, mildly.

In just a few minutes, the examinations had been completed, X-rays of every part of the prisoners' bodies had been taken, blood samples had been taken and analyzed, and DNA samples had been taken and packed and labeled to be sent for analysis. Then the examination tables released the examinees. Both Bilari and Glutman alighted from the examination tables with some difficulty as doors opened in the walls opposite those through which the prisoners had entered the examination rooms, and Buckley directed that the prisoners go through these. He noted with pleasure that both Bilari and Glutman walked with effort. If they were to give him just the slightest trouble, he thought, he would show them what he could really do. And, even if they did not, he planned to mete out the occasional punishment as and when it pleased him. These criminals were not here on vacation: they were here to pay for their crimes.

The rooms in which Bilari and Glutman now found themselves were smaller than the ones they had left. Bare and windowless, they contained just one thing: a transparent circular cylinder located in their centers. Doors in the cylinders slid open as Buckley's voice instructed the two naked prisoners to enter the cylinders. Bilari and Glutman did as they were told and the doors of the cylinders closed behind them. Then the cylinders began to drop. They were hi-tech elevators. Bilari and Glutman felt their stomachs lurch such was the speed of the drop but, in a few seconds, it had ended.

The doors of the cylinders slid open and Buckley instructed the pair to get out. They found themselves in a long, narrow passage.

Mister Bilari, Buckley ordered, from a hidden speaker, Go through the third door on your right.

Bilari walked, still naked, still with some difficulty, down the passage, past two closed doors, to a third, open, one. He went through the doorway and a steel door slid shut behind him.

Miss Glutman, Buckley ordered, from another hidden speaker, Go through the first doorway on your right.

Glutman walked to the doorway and went though it. Seconds later, a steel door slid shut behind her.

The prisoners now found themselves in their cells. Each of these was some twelve feet by twenty feet and, like the rooms upstairs, appeared to be walled with seamless stainless steel sheet. A short passage passed a walled-off toilet, shower, and washroom, and then the cell opened out to contain a chair and a table, a bed, a locker, and an inset TV screen. There was also what appeared to be a circular roll of memory foam set into one of the walls. The far end of the cell was glass and looked out onto the prison's central circular synthetic grass courtyard whilst, from high above, and from a small circular opening at the top of the building, a small amount of sunlight filtered down. This was complimented by lights set high in the building, so that the amount of light in the central courtyard was always the same as the amount of light outside. At night, the amount of moonlight or starlight outside was also recreated in the courtyard so that the prisoners got the impression the courtyard was wide open to the sky, which it was not.

Buckley's voice addressed the prisoners simultaneously once again.

This is where you will spend the rest of your natural life, he purred. You will find clothes in the lockers, and towels in your wash areas. These will be replaced at regular intervals through the facility in your washrooms. As you can see, there is a computer facility and a television set in your cell, but these, of course, will only operate within limits decided by myself. The Sexalutor will take care of your sexual needs. It is one of the newest products of the sextertainment industry, and has a wide range of programs. I am sure you will be able to make it conjure up the partner of your dreams. Your meals will be sent you at appropriate intervals. That is all I have to say at present."

*

Buckley switched out and put the monitoring on automatic. The systems would now keep a close watch on the two dangerous inmates, and the systems were more sensitive than humans ever could be. Buckley had complete faith in them: they had been built by experts, and tested by experts. They had even been tested by former expert criminals. All had pronounced them incapable of being evaded. And, in Buckley's view, you could not do better than that. With a look of satisfaction on his face, he left the control room and walked the short way to his personal quarters.

These were on the same floor as the control room so that he could be at his console in seconds. And his quarters were luxurious. He was warden only for six months of the year: when his spell was up, his co-warden would take over. Six months on, six months off: that was the arrangement. During his period in charge of The Dome, Buckley relaxed playing his computer at chess; reading - history books and sailing books; watching sailing programs on the television; monitoring his investments on the stock market; and working out in his personal gym. And also, of course, enjoying the benefit of his own personal Sexalutor. A top of the range model. When he was off duty, he sailed down at Key West and played chess and read history books on board his forty-foot sail-boat: Corrector. 

Buckley's wood-paneled rooms consisted of a living room with a huge TV set - on which were available more channels than almost any other television in the land, a dining room, a state of the art automated kitchen, a luxurious bedroom containing a king-size bed, a luxurious bathroom, a dressing room with a selection of uniforms - each of them being different in one minor detail - and Buckley's favorite civilian outfit so that he could go off duty in style, a gym, and a small armory. The authorities had asked Buckley which weapons he wanted stored in the latter. He said none would be necessary because they would never be needed. His co-warden, however, being less confident than he, had asked for some handguns, and so a couple of automatics and ammunition had been stored. The finest foods and finest wines were delivered to Buckley regularly by road from Berris Air Force Base, the vehicle and its military police escort backing into a high security bay at the side of the prison, and he had freedom to order anything else he wished. An underground high-speed electric railway link connecting the air-force base to The Dome had been planned so that prisoners and supplies could be transferred between the two locations quickly and securely. The construction of The Dome had, however, gone so far over budget that, to date, federal funds hadn't stretched that far. 

Buckley went now into his bedroom and took off his uniform, which he wore even when nobody was around to see him, since he was a stickler for rules and appearance. He had designed the uniform himself. The top-half was of black velvet and consisted of a jacket that fitted closely around the neck, and which had on its breast pocket the symbol of The Dome - a silver half-globe with a red portcullis overlaying it, and pants of black cord, with a red stripe running down each leg. The outfit was completed by black leather handmade shoes. After taking the uniform off, Buckley put on his frilly white dress shirt, his black bow tie, and his Armani tuxedo, with cummerbund, and, finally, his black patent leather evening shoes. Next, he washed his hands in his luxurious washroom before going into his luxuriously appointed dining room. Here, within moments of his taking his seat at the head of his mirror-polished dining table, his robot butler appeared with a menu. The robot butler, an example of the latest Japanese technology and capable of mimicking every move a human body could make, had been imported at Buckley's request. It was of humanoid appearance a little shorter than the average human male - as was the warden himself - and wore a real butler's uniform made for it by a Buckley's own tailor. In Buckley's kitchen was another robot, a robot chef, dressed in a chef's uniform, which also had been designed by Buckley's personal tailor. Buckley had pondered ordering a robot valet, but had decided against it on the grounds that he could do a valet's job more quickly himself.

Buckley now used the console at his side of the table to select an expensive bottle of wine from his wine cellar and an automated system delivered it in seconds by means of a serving elevator to his floor. The butler went to the serving elevator, took the bottle of wine from the delivery system, went to a sideboard for a glass, cleaned the glass with a fresh cleaning cloth, for Buckley was a stickler for cleanliness, and then opened the bottle and poured Buckley a perfectly judged first sample of wine. Later, it would decant the contents of the bottle into a crystal glass decanter. Whilst the waiter poured the wine, Buckley continued to study the menu. He selected three courses, punched the selection into the table console, specifying exactly how each of the courses should be prepared, and what should accompany them, and the butler and the chef did the rest. Some meals, of course, had to be ordered well in advance, for they would involve considerable preparation. This evening, however,  Buckley had decided on cold, easily prepared fare, and so he had left the ordering until he was ready at the table.

The cutlery and the crockery in Buckley's quarters were both the finest money could buy and this evening he ate well before finally rising and walking into his living room, where his butler held out his smoking jacket. Buckley took off his dinner jacket and slipped into the latter, and then was offered, by his butler, a choice of Cuban cigars, and then presented with a pressed copy of The Wall Street Journal. After Buckley had lit up, the butler went back to the dining room to remove the plates and the cutlery. These, it took to the kitchen to put in the washer. Later, it would press Buckley's dinner jacket ready for the warden to wear next day. Meanwhile, Buckley, cigar in hand, flopped into his leather wing armchair to which, soon, his butler brought him a cup of his favorite black coffee. About thirty minutes later, Buckley put down his newspaper and pressed buttons in his remote control, and the big television screen came to life. Some time later, Buckley would soak for twenty minutes in his hot tub where his butler would bring him a nightcap, before climbing out, toweling down, and putting on his designer deep pile bathrobe and going into his bedroom to change into his monogrammed silk pajamas. 

*

The sign read: NEXT SERVICES ONE HUNDRED MILES and one hundred yards further on Grannit took the turning on the left. Moments later, Maria spotted it. A simple white post bearing the emblem of The Dome. The road was flat, obviously new, through desert covered with cacti, an abandoned multi-bladed wind pump five hundred yards to the left drawing attention to several abandoned buildings. Another sign read: NO ADMITTANCE WITHOUT PRIOR AUTHORIZATION. Grannit drove on, past the sign, and then they saw the checkpoint.

Guards came forward to meet them and directed them into a side-bay. 

They spent thirty minutes in the side-bay, completely enclosed in air-conditioned comfort, the guards saying little, but working busily, the temperature comfortable, the atmosphere rather less so. Finally, and, it seemed grudgingly, the guards allowed them to carry on.

Didn't those guards look bored? Grannit asked, as he brought the Subaru up to speed.

Not bored enough not to keep their weapons trained on us as they searched us in that side bay, Maria said.

Nope.

And they were very thorough, weren't they? Maria asked.

Yes, indeed. Even though we showed them that letter from Warden Buckley. 

They looked at it closely, presumably to check it was not a forgery. 

Did you see into the office, when they took it with them?

No.

I saw them hold it over some sort of light machine. Presumably to check the watermark

My goodness. The lengths they go to, to ensure this prison is secure.

They say not even a mouse can get into or out of The Dome without Warden Buckley's say-so, Grannit said.

They drove on for another four miles and then Maria pointed up ahead. There it is, she said, The Dome.

Grannit, almost six feet seven inches tall, square-jawed, and broad shouldered, and wearing a check shirt, jeans, all-terrain shoes, and a plain-looking gold watch, which was no Rolex, no Blancpin, but still his most treasured possession, brought the Subaru to a halt and got out of the vehicle and Maria followed. The late morning heat hit them as they walked a few yards off the road, and then stood looking at the silver cupola on the far horizon. This was the first time each of them had set eyes on it. Grannit stared at it for some moments, getting a feel for the setting of the place, and then went back to the Subaru and got his photographic equipment out of the back of the vehicle.

It's like something out of a science fiction movie, Maria called back. She was about five feet eight inches tall, tanned, had her black hair in a ponytail, and wore tight jeans held up by a snakeskin belt – artificial snakeskin, naturally – a check shirt, with the sleeves rolled up, natural leather boots, an Omega watch, and just plain pearl earrings. 

It's more like a space ship than a prison, Grannit said as he came back, aluminum camera case in his right hand, a heavy-duty camera tripod in the other. 

Maria looked on as Grannit set up the tripod a few yards in front of the car, took the Leica S out of its pampering foam lined metal case, and fitted it to the tripod. Next, he took the APO-Elmar-S 180mm telephoto lens from its close fitting foam bed and fitted it to the camera. He spent some moments adjusting focus, checking aperture and shutter speed, and chose spot metering. He took three shots as Maria looked on. Then he stood back.

How long have you been a photographer? Maria asked.

Off and on, my almost my entire life, Grannit said, since an uncle gave me an old box camera.

Maria nodded. I've done some. But I tend to use my camera set to auto.

Grannit smiled. Most of the latest models will do everything for you, if you want.

Maria walked forward. Is this a recent model? she asked.

Yes, it's one of the latest medium format cameras, Grannit said. Brad Pitt and the President of Russia use them. The lenses are spectacular. They are most certainly the finest ever made.

Grannit looked on as Maria walked to the Leica, bent down slightly, and peered through the viewfinder. His eyes wandered down the back of her red check shirt and around the rump of her jeans, before wandering down her long legs. He had only known her a couple of days, and had been attracted to her as soon as he saw her. She was of Italian-American extraction, she'd told him, twenty-eight years of age, and single. She had a degree in English, and would write the article on The Dome, whilst he would do the illustrations part. She'd asked him a few details about himself and he had truthfully answered. He was thirty-five, he'd told her, divorced, and childless. He had no formal qualifications, he'd said, just a lot of know-how, tricks, and ideas picked up from spells in a variety of occupations. Her attitude, since they'd met, had been one of a cool professionalism, and Grannit had responded in kind. He was attracted to Maria, that was sure, but he'd not make a move, or indeed let her know that he was attracted to her whilst they were on an assignment. Business and pleasure were two different things as far as he was concerned, and that was how he wanted it to be.

You're tall, she had said on first meeting him. And very muscular.

That's natural, Grannit had said. I only work out lightly.

And somebody said you have a genius IQ! Maria had said, finally smiling.

Not quite, Grannit had said, smiling in turn.

I'm sure we'll get along just fine, Maria had said.

I sincerely hope so, Grannit had replied.

They had shaken hands, rather formally.

Nice camera, Maria now said, as she straightened and took a step back.

Grannit moved forward, and then dismantled his equipment and put it back in the back of the Subaru. He and Maria then got back into the vehicle. Grannit started it, and drove to a distance of a quarter mile from The Dome, where he took another three shots, whilst Maria stayed in the vehicle, before getting back into the Subaru and driving up to the building and circling it until he came to a place where it had a red light on its surface. Here, he stopped the vehicle and sat waiting for a moment. Presently, a long metal arm emerged from the almost featureless surface of the prison and Grannit lowered his driver's window and spoke into the microphone at the end of the arm.

Hello? Hello Warden Buckley? I am Max Grannit and I've come with Miss De Marco to do the magazine article on your prison.

There was silence for a moment.

You're late, Buckley said.

Grannit glanced at his watch.

Yes, we are. I stopped to take some photographs.

There were a few moments more of silence as Buckley to reflect on the few minutes delay in Grannit's and De Marco's arrival at the prison. Then, he said: Very well. Please drive in, and please follow my instructions to the letter. 

Two sections of the outer shell of The Dome slid back like the outer shell of some space ship so undetectable were they until that action, and Grannit looked into a narrow passage that had, at its end, what looked like a heavy iron portcullis. Grannit drove the Subaru slowly forward and stopped it with its front six inches way from the portcullis. In his rear view mirror, he saw the outer doors slide shut and another portcullis come down behind the Subaru.

Please leave your vehicle, both of you, Buckley said. And please open all of the doors, the trunk, and the hood when you do so.

Grannit and Maria got out of the Subaru and Grannit did as Buckley wanted, and then awaited further instructions. 

Now please go into the cubicle.

As Buckley said this a panel slid open on one side of the passage, and Grannit and Maria walked through this and into a cubicle. Glancing back, they noticed arms sliding out from the walls of the passage in which their vehicle was parked. These penetrated the interior of the four-wheeler. The arms checked the engine compartment and the trunk of the four-wheeler, obviously looking for contraband, weapons, and suchlike.

A door behind Grannit and Maria slid shut and Buckley addressed them once again. Mister Grannit, Miss De Marco, please stand with your legs apart and your arms at right angles to your body.

You're checking us for contraband Warden Buckley, I take it? Grannit asked.

Yes, I am, Buckley said. And, if you have anything that might be a threat to the security of  The Dome, I shall find it.

We don't have anything that might be a threat to the security of The Dome, Warden Buckley, Grannit said.

I am sure you do not, Buckley said. However, I shall still make certain you do not, and I intend to be thorough about it.

Arms appeared from the walls of the cubicle, and sensors at the ends of them scanned Grannit's and Maria's bodies for half a minute. Finally, the door of the cubicle opened, and Buckley announced: You are clean, both of you. Please leave the cubicle and go back to your vehicle.

Thank you, Grannit said, as he and Maria got back into the Subaru.

Please drive your vehicle through into the parking lot and come though the red door, Buckley said. You will find an elevator. This comes to my floor. I shall be here to greet the pair of you.

Thank you, Warden Buckley, Grannit said.

The portcullis rose and Grannit and Maria did as they were told. They entered the elevator, which was luxuriously lined with varnished oak, and included a security camera, they noted, and stood looking thoughtfully at their reflections in the paneling as they ascended to Buckley's floor. Grannit thought he didn't look too bad after what he'd been through. There was a scar under his left eye, and a bruise on his right cheek. But that was it: otherwise, he was as ugly as ever. He glanced at Maria's reflection and noticed she was studying the fittings of the elevator, then he felt the elevator stop, and the doors opened with the smoothness one would expect of doors fitted to such a quality conveyance. Buckley stood waiting outside the door of the elevator.

*

Buckley put out his hand and Maria shook it. Then he extended a hand to Grannit. Welcome to The Dome, Miss De Marco, Mister Grannit, he said, smiling. And good morning to both of you.

Buckley was short, shaven-headed and about sixty, Grannit thought, and he wore a uniform quite unlike any Grannit had seen before. He pointed back into his quarters. Care to join me for lunch, both of you? he asked.

I'd love to, Warden Buckley Grannit said, smiling. I'm famished. I haven't eaten since breakfast and I've driven a long way.

Mister Grannit speaks for both of us, Warden Buckley, Maria said.

Yes, the distances in these parts are considerable, Buckley said, gesturing down a passage, and then leading the way. Have you ever been to this part of the country before.

No. It's a new part of the world to me, Grannit said. And I'm impressed with your prison. They tell me it's the most sophisticated prison in the world.

Yes, it is. I'll tell you about it later. Please come in and make yourselves at home.

They had walked down a long oak lined corridor, and now entered the foyer of Buckley's personal quarters. Buckley stood aside and gestured Grannit and Maria in first.

Thank you, Grannit said.

Grannit and Maria walked into Buckley's personal dining room, which was about fifteen feet long, windowless, decorated with modern art, and featuring a long polished dark wood dining table, at which Buckley had been seated at the far end. Buckley pulled  two more dining chairs from the side of the room and placed them at either side of the table. Please sit down, both of you, he said.

I think I'd better first wash my hands, Grannit said.

Me too, Maria said.

Of course. Buckley directed Grannit and Maria to two doors just outside the entrance to the dining room and Grannit and Maria walked to them. Grannit opened the one intended for male visitors and walked into a passage where he opened a second door. He found himself in a luxury washroom. He peed, washed his hands in a marble washbasin, and washed the desert dust from his face. Then he dried his face and hands in a towel decorated with the insignia of The Dome. Returning to the dining room, he found Buckley seated at the head of the table pouring himself a glass of red wine from a crystal decanter. Would you care for a glass of red wine Mister Grannit? he asked. Or would you prefer white? I have quality examples of both in my wine cellar. I am drinking this, he raised the decanter. But my robot wine-master will send you a bottle of whichever red you prefer. It can do so in about one minute.

That wine will do just fine, Warden Buckley, Grannit said, and Buckley pressed a button on the keypad Grannit now noticed he had on the table by the side of him. A door opened at the far side of the dining room, and a robot, man-sized, man-like, and dressed in a waiter's uniform appeared, and moved, nearly silently, over to Buckley's side. Buckley chuckled at the look of amazement that had appeared on Grannit's face. This is Crichton, my butler. He looks after my every need. Buckley chuckled again. Crichton, take the wine to Mister Grannit and pour him a glass, will you please?

Crichton nodded, picked up the decanter, went to a sideboard by the wall, put down the decanter for a moment, picked up a wineglass and a cloth and polished the latter, and then picked up the decanter once more and took both the decanter and the glass to Grannit's side, where it poured him a glass of red wine.

Thank you, Grannit said, so lifelike was the butler.

Buckley chuckled again.

Crichton then proceeded to lay places for Grannit and Maria. 

Moments later, Maria came back into the room. She stopped and gaped, causing Buckley to chuckle once again. She too, chose a red wine, and looked on in amazement as Crichton poured a glass for her too.

Now, Mister Grannit, Miss De Marco, Buckley said, what would you like for lunch? My automatic chef can make you almost any dish you wish, although, of course, some may take longer than others.

I'm rather hungry, Warden, Grannit said. so I'd prefer not to have to wait too long. What are you having yourself, Warden? 

Just a simple turkey dinner, and I think there's sufficient turkey and vegetables left for another two helpings. Will that do for both of you?

It sounds delicious, Grannit said.

I'll echo that, Maria said.

Buckley pressed some keys in his keypad. "It'll be here in a few minutes. Would you like hors d'oeuvres while you wait? I have had some excellent crudities prepared."

Warden Buckley, you will kill me with kindness, Grannit said.

Maria nodded and smiled.

And I thought they said you are a hard man, Grannit said.

Only on criminals, Mister Grannit. Only on criminals. With people I like, I am a pussycat.

Buckley pressed a button and the waiter left the room. About two minutes later, it reappeared with the crudities. Crichton served some to both Grannit and Maria. Crichton then moved back two paces, bowed and waited.

This wine is truly excellent, Grannit said, sampling it.

Thank you Mister Grannit, Buckley said, sipping his own, I get the best of everything. It's part of my reward for being cooped up in The Dome.

The crudities are truly excellent also, Maria said.

Yes, they are. Everything is shipped in regularly by high security truck from Berris Air force Base. Everything is fresh, and everything is of the highest quality. The stuff  I get is better than the stuff they get.

The three of them ate in silence for a while. Then Grannit's and Maria's main course arrived.

So, you've come to interview me about my prison, and about myself? Buckley asked.

Yes, we have, Grannit said. Or, rather, Maria has. I'd just like to take some photos.

Then please first tell me a little about yourselves, Buckley said. 

*

Shall I start? Grannit asked, glancing at Maria.

Maria nodded.

I'm from a village in the backwoods. I suppose I'm a bit of a country yokel.

That's nothing to be ashamed of, Mister Grannit, Buckley said.

I was ashamed of it once, Warden Buckley, Grannit said.

Buckley smiled.

...and I'm keen on sailing, photography - which is one of the two reasons I suppose I was chosen for this assignment -  writing - I've written three unpublished novels - and quite a few other things.

Are you a full time employee of the magazine? Buckley asked.

Oh, heavens, no, Grannit said. I'm a free lance. They called me and asked me if I would do this particular assignment. I jumped at the chance, because I was intrigued by what I had heard of The Dome.

Have you ever been employed full time? Buckley asked.

No, I have not. I guess I'm a restless sort of person. And I agree with the actor Sterling Hayden. He said that when a man settles down, takes on a mortgage, buys a comfortable home, takes on commitments and insurances he, in effect, builds a coffin or a casket around himself. He makes himself a prisoner of his own comfort. He imprisons himself for the rest of his natural life.

I guess that's what I have done, Buckley said. But only for six months of the year. For the other six months, I am indeed a free spirit.

So, what sort of things have you done, Mister Grannit? Buckley asked.

I've worked as a deckhand on a lobster fishing boat, Grannit said. I've worked as an extra in the movie industry. And I've sailed my yacht around a bit.

You've had quite a few experiences, I'll bet, Buckley said. I intended to sail around the world, but I never got around to it. When I was young, I never seemed to have enough money.

Hayden, who once sailed a leaking square-rigger to the south seas, said: wait until you can't afford it, Grannit said. It'll be a much more interesting experience then.

I never looked at it that way, Buckley said.

Most sensible people don't, Grannit said. They save up. Then they either decide they never have enough. Or they don't want to spend what they have. Besides, I think Hayden wasn't in the event entirely true to his word. From what I've read, he used regularly to cable his friends in the movie industry for funds when he was short of cash. 

What kind of boat did you have? Buckley asked.

I bought a Laurent Giles designed Vertue Class boat. They're about twenty-six feet overall in length. 

That's a small boat, Buckley said.

But not the smallest ever to have accomplished a circumnavigation, Grannit said.

A smaller one has gone around? Buckley asked. I wasn't aware of that.

Yes, Grannit said. "A smaller boat called Trekka has made the circumnavigation. She too was designed by Laurent Giles."

It was a brave man who carried out that trip, Buckley said.

His name was John Guzzwell, Grannit said. He was an Canadian, I believe.

That might explain it, Buckley said.

And he built the boat himself, in a garage, if I remember correctly.

I tried to build a boat myself once, when I was a teenager, Buckley said. But my joints never seemed to fit.

I'm not good at it either, Grannit said. I can do some basic woodworking, but I'm certainly not an expert. I believe, like most things, you have it or you don't. To be really good at it, I mean.

Yes, I suppose experts at everything are born, Mister Grannit. Like playing the violin. Some people can do it straight away; others will never manage it, however much they practice.

You two, speaking like this, make me feel I have done nothing, Maria said.

You're still young Miss De Marco, Buckley said.

And I'd be happy to teach you how to sail, Maria, Grannit said.

Maria smiled. You know, Max, I might just take you up on that.

Just say the word, Maria, Grannit said.

Oh, and another thing I always wanted to do, Grannit said, was hunt for buried treasure.

That's maybe something I'll do when I retire, Buckley said.

We could join forces, Grannit said. 

I shall look forward to it, Buckley said.

By the way, this turkey is outstanding, as is the wine. So are the vegetables," Grannit added.

I agree, Mister Grannit. I agree, Buckley said. My automatic chef has been programmed by a three star Michelin chef. He has been further tweaked by me. And the food I have sent here is carefully selected. Buckley savored his own turkey for a moment. And why did they choose you, Miss De Marco, to come and interview me about my prison?

I wanted to visit this part of the world, Maria said.

An honest answer, Miss De Marco. And what do you think of it, now you've been here?

It's flat, featureless, hot, dusty and, I've no doubt dangerous too.

Buckley chuckled. Yes, you're right. And, of course, it's an ideal place to build a prison. For any prisoner who escapes has to overcome great difficulties if they want to get back to what people call civilization. Not that any prisoner will ever escape from The Dome, or course. 

I was the only one in the office who would take on the assignment, Maria said. Because you are here, remote in the desert, and because the others think there isn't a story here, I suppose.

Buckley nodded. But, of course, there is, in fact, a very interesting story to be told here about an interesting and a unique institution. That is, in my view, of course. 

Please tell me about your background, Miss De Marco, he added.

Maria sipped her wine, and put down the glass. She leaned back in her chair. She looked more beautiful than she had up until now, Grannit thought, but he didn't know why.

I'm a country girl, Maria said. I was brought up on a farm that was miles from anywhere.

My mother was too, Buckley said, smiling.

But I preferred cities, Maria said.

Me too, said Buckley. 

So I moved out at the first opportunity, Maria said. That was, when I went to university. And, of course, I never went back. She looked thoughtful for a moment. It's because I like people, I suppose. And, being an only child, I found living on a farm rather lonely.

An only child, Buckley said, he himself now thoughtful. I was one myself. I found it both a blessing and a curse. 

I agree, Maria said. It was nice being the sole center of attention, especially at Christmas times...well, at all times, really. But then, when your school friends started talking about their brothers and their sisters, you felt disadvantaged, you felt you lacked something.

I agree, Buckley said. He turned to Grannit. Were you an only child, Mister Grannit?

Grannit nodded. Yes, I was, although my parents did try to have another child. It was still born. Which meant I, myself, was spoiled rotten.

Only children tend to be, Buckley said. We are three of a kind, he added.

Three lonely people, Maria said.

And three very free people, Grannit said.

And it could be worse, Maria said.

Of course it could, said Buckley.

As the film star Howard Keel once said, Maria went on, never envy anyone anything, because you don't know what comes with the part you envy. You may wish you had their wealth, but that might come with their heart problems, or their family troubles...

You know, Maria, Grannit said, that's quite a wise way of looking at life. 

I suppose it was my background that made me the ideal person for this job, Buckley said. 

The three of them reflected.

Will both of you have another glass of wine? Buckley asked.

Thank you, Grannit and Maria said in unison.

The waiter stepped forward and poured each of them another glass of wine.

The same here, Warden Buckley, Grannit said.

Buckley pressed buttons and the waiter disappeared.

I would also like to take some photographs of you, yourself, Warden Buckley, and of your quarters, if you agree, Grannit said. 

Ah, yes. Photographs.

I took some of the exterior of the building at various distances as I approached.

That's fine, Buckley said. Because, of course, there is little to see from the outside...

Yes, it is rather featureless.

Yes, it is. The important bits are here, in the interior. And, of course, many of them are classified. 

Yes, of course.

Lets us be silent for a while, Buckley said, to let you have a chance to finish your main course.

And so they were.

And now can I offer you a dessert, Mister Grannit, Miss De Marco? Buckley asked as Crichton took away their plates.

You certainly can, Warden Buckley, Grannit said.

Yes, please, Maria said.

Cakes, Mister Grannit, Miss De Marco, cookies, ice cream... You can have almost whatever you wish.

Make it an ice cream, Warden Buckley, and this will have been a meal to remember, Grannit said.

"I'll have