“Buddy-boy, what’s the matter?”Mister Ed queried his owner as Wilbur Post entered their shared space of stable and office.Ed had heard the siren... and seen the ambulance arrive, then watched yet another extra long vehicle depart hours later in total silence. Something or other “Mortuary” printed on the side.Wilbur had been crying.“Addison, he is dead.”Ed knew death only in the abstract of production parameters and entertainment value. This, this was not that.“I’m sorry, Wilbur. What. Word came eventually to the group and the leader travelled abroad ostensibly for a family reunion.The family member, who was not family, nor indeed, not even a countryman of the leader, was curt. The plan was good, though needed to be refined, but it could be done; a tanker prepared; documents forged and a religion avenged.Those whose job it is to guard us were aware of the group, though constraints on their time meant that surveillance was not constant and not sufficient to raise alarm and so. More

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