He opened his eyes, stared into darkness. He could see a faint moonglow through the skylight. Something like the shadow of a man passed across the skylight. Again, he heard the scrambling sound. A heavy sense of menace filled Garson. He closed his eyes, tried to fight it off, blaming the highly spiced foods of his dinner. A bright light flicked across his face, visible through his eyelids. The sense of menace was an imminent thing. Garson rolled off the bed.Something crashed through the skylight, thumped onto the bed. The springs creaked and groaned. Pieces of glass fell all around Garson.He lay quietly on the floor in the dark, his heart thumping.Good God! What was that?He put out a hand, felt on the bed. His fingers encountered a rough, cold surface like rock or concrete.Footsteps pounded on the tiles outside his door. Someone knocked. Gabriél Villazana’s voice came through the panels: “Señor Garson? Está bien, Señor?”Garson remained mute, his throat dry.An excited conversation in Spanish went on outside his door.Why don’t I say something?
