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BOOK 4

So he's up there, she thought, whoever he is, and wanting the place dark so as to get away without being seen.

She tried the lights a third time. Nothing happened; she presumed that whoever was in the lighting booth had turned off the master switch. From now on, the studio would stay dark.

How huge it felt, a whole lightless world of space. Somewhere in the vast limbo she heard a quiet click which must be the lighting booth door opening. Then came a patter of feet on the steps, and with them a weird rustling and slithering like the movements of a giant snake. The smell of mothballs and linseed oil and vinegar was suddenly overwhelming.

The coat, Amy thought. He has Paul's coat.

The pattering and the slithering went on, coming lower and nearer while adrenalin-fuelled ideas zigzagged across her mind like lightning flashes. She must get some light in here somehow. Apart from this main entrance where she stood, the studio had several other ways out, she must get a look at this person befo
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