It's evening now in Seacliff, San Francisco, and Henry Barbour - sitting alone on his terrace - is aware of a sudden quiet settling on his son Jack's house, just next door. In a bedroom on the second floor Jack is reading the last few paragraphs of a story, and his daughter, Sharon-Ann who is seven years old and therefore privileged beyond the others, is sitting straight up in bed, wide-eyed with interest...