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But how to get that information out of the small person, who had never been heard to utter a word? Who might not even comprehend what they were saying? But he would certainly know what they were thinking. "Take the jeeps around to the garage," Xris ordered, climbing out. "Get rid of any tracks we may have left. Once we're inside the house, we keep the blinds lowered. Don't switch on any lights. I want anyone approaching this place to think it's still deserted. Check the sensors on the back door before you enter. Rowan, you're with me. Quong, bring the Little One."
"Pictures," suggested Quong as they climbed the stairs, waited on the front porch for Xris to check the sensor readings. "Primitive man communicated with pictures."
"Primitive men weren't empaths," Xris returned. Then, "Sensor readings check out. No one inside." He unlocked the door, touching his hand to a security pad.
The door opened directly onto a spacious living room: airy, open, with beam ceilings, an entertainment center, a fireplace in the middle of a sunken pit surrounded by comfortable leather-cushioned couches. Large floor-to-ceiling one-way windows provided the spectator with a spectacular view outside, yet prohibited anyone from seeing inside. Off the living room was a kitchen.
The bedrooms, game rooms, offices rambled off in different directions, some upstairs, some down. An observatory on the top doubled as a conning tower, lookout station
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