The Book of Levi by Mark Clark Page B

been assailed and taken by force to meet Ferret for the first time. Her shoes echoed and clattered on the old stone floor. Eddies of spiralling dust erupted in her wake like mini-tornadoes.
    ‘Hello,’ she said, quietly at first, and then more loudly, ‘Hello!’ Her salutation bounced off the unadorned and eerie walls.
    In the dimness ahead she saw a figure appear in silhouette. It emerged from the gloom through an internal doorway. It did not speak.
    ‘I’m looking for a Mister Levi,’ she stated. She took two paces towards the figure and stopped. Still it did not speak. ‘Would that be you, sir?’
    ‘Would that be me?’ repeated the figure. ‘Not if I had any choice in the matter, but as it turns out, yes it is me. And you are President Dawson.’ Sebastian shifted out into the shaft of light illuminating the central portion of the lobby.
    It struck Elizabeth, as she watched the butterfly emerge form the cocoon, that this man had some charisma about him. His voice was educated, quiet and sonorous. When she saw him fully cast in the shifting afternoon sunlight he could have been a pirate from a romantic novel, or perhaps an errant knave, discarded by society and forced into incarceration in this silent and timeless world.
    ‘I believe that you have something that belongs to me?’ she said. She sounded confident but she approached him no closer.
    But he moved towards her. ‘It is the property of the state, I think.’
    ‘I represent the state,’ she replied.
    ‘And what is the state?’ he asked her, moving into her personal space.
    Uneasy, she stepped back half a pace. ‘It is what I represent,’ she replied.
    ‘Ah, I see. I see,’ he said, nodding his head. ‘It really is simple when you look at it like that, isn’t it?’
    Elizabeth was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable. She was wishing that she had brought her retinue with her and not simply burst down Macquarie Street and recklessly entered the domain of this whispering and sinister man.
    ‘You have a book,’ she persevered. She raised her chin in defiance of this dark-eyed man who stared penetratingly at her over the rims of his glasses. He was far too close for her comfort.
    ‘I have many,’ he replied with a slow smile.
    ‘You have one in particular, I believe,’ she returned with a further nervous upturning of her chin.
    For a moment there was silence. Elizabeth came close to turning on her heel and exiting the building, with the intention of returning later with an entourage of large men. But just before she did, Sebastian whispered, ‘Follow me.’
    He disappeared through the doorway from whence he had appeared, leaving Elizabeth indecisive, considering her options and momentarily glued to the floor.
    A few seconds later Sebastian’s head reappeared in silhouette in the doorway. ‘Come along,’ he said. ‘I shan’t bite you.’ And again he disappeared.
    Elizabeth drew in her breath and followed. Down the spiral stairwell she trailed the man and into the bowels of the library. As she descended she assessed the folly of her action. The man uttered no more words throughout the long journey down.
    Eventually they reached the lowest level of the library. They were now well below ground level and around about the same spot where Rueben had met Weena many years before. Sebastian reached a pile of magazines. He turned suddenly. Elizabeth pulled up quickly in response and her heels skidded. The walls echoed with the sound.
    Out of the blue he shot a question at her. ‘What is the main perquisite of power do you think, President Dawson?’
    ‘Perquisite?’ she asked, trying desperately to retain her equanimity.
    ‘Yes. The main perquisite. The main perk.’
    ‘Oh,’ she said, brushing her dark tousled hair away from her emerald eyes in consideration of the question. ‘Well, there’s the ability to help others, of course.’
    Sebastian said nothing.
    ‘And the joy that springs from having a sense of purpose and being able