and clear,” Fordyce’s voice crackled back.
“Let’s get going before, ah, it’s too late.”
They began to move past Ramirez.
“Wait,” said Ramirez apologetically. “I really got to see that ID.”
Gideon lifted his respirator. “We’ll show it to you when we unsuit. Or you can check with Dart—but be sure to catch him at the right moment. He’s kind of irritable right now.”
“You’re not kidding,” said Ramirez, shaking his head.
“So you can imagine how pissed he’ll be if his two handpicked guys get delayed.”
Gideon eased the respirator back over his head before Ramirez could reply. They hopped the last barrier and strode toward the row house.
“Nice work if you can get it,” said Gideon into the intercom, with a chuckle. “And by the way, that suit doesn’t do a thing for you.”
“You think it’s funny?” said Fordyce, suddenly angry. “I’ve been dealing with that crap all of my career and there’s nothing funny about it. And by the way, I’m going to say this was all your idea.”
They gave the basement apartment, where Chalker had spent the last two months of his life, a swift walk-through. It was small and stark, consisting of a tiny room in the front, a pullman kitchen and bathroom, and a back room with a single window. The apartment was scrupulously clean and smelled faintly of Pine-Sol and bleach. Six NEST personnel moved about slowly, scanning with various instruments, picking up fibers and dust, taking photographs. Nothing had been touched.
The front room was empty, save for a rug by the door with a row of flip-flops, and a second, small but sumptuous Persian rug in the middle.
Gideon paused, staring the rug. It was askew, out of line with the lines of the room.
“Prayer rug,” came Fordyce’s tinny voice over the intercom. “Pointing in the direction of Mecca.”
“Right. Of course.”
The only other item in the room was a Qur’an, open, resting on an elaborately carved book stand. Fordyce examined it and saw it was a bilingual edition, English and Arabic, and well worn. Many of the pages had been marked with strings.
It would be interesting to see which verses had attracted Chalker’s special attention. Gideon glanced at the page it was open to and his attention was immediately arrested by one verse, which had been marked:
Has there reached you the report of the Overwhelming Event?
Some faces, that day, will be humbled, working hard and exhausted.
They will burn in an intensive Fire.
They will be given drink from a boiling spring.
He looked up at Fordyce, who was also gazing at the book. He nodded slowly.
Fordyce pointed at the kitchen, then moved into it for a closer examination. It was as clean and bare as the rest of the apartment, everything in its place.
“Are we allowed to open the refrigerator?” Gideon asked Fordyce over the radio.
“Don’t ask. Just do it.”
Gideon opened the door. Inside was a carton of milk, a package of dates, leftover pizza in a carton, cheese, some Chinese food cartons, and other miscellaneous items. The freezer contained frozen lamb cubes, Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, and a bag of raw almonds. As he shut the door, Gideon noticed a calendar affixed to the side of the refrigerator with a magnet, a photograph of the Taj Mahal filling its upper half. In the calendar grid below, a number of appointments had been scribbled in Chalker’s hand. Gideon scanned them with interest while Fordyce came up behind.
Gideon grasped the calendar page and turned it back a month, then another. It was crabbed with cryptic appointments. “Jesus,” he murmured into the intercom, dropping the calendar back to the current month. “You see that?”
“See what?” asked Fordyce, staring at the empty calendar. “It’s blank.”
“That’s just it. The appointments just stop. There’re no appointments after the twenty-first of this month.”
“Which means?”
“We’re looking at the appointment calendar of a
“Let’s get going before, ah, it’s too late.”
They began to move past Ramirez.
“Wait,” said Ramirez apologetically. “I really got to see that ID.”
Gideon lifted his respirator. “We’ll show it to you when we unsuit. Or you can check with Dart—but be sure to catch him at the right moment. He’s kind of irritable right now.”
“You’re not kidding,” said Ramirez, shaking his head.
“So you can imagine how pissed he’ll be if his two handpicked guys get delayed.”
Gideon eased the respirator back over his head before Ramirez could reply. They hopped the last barrier and strode toward the row house.
“Nice work if you can get it,” said Gideon into the intercom, with a chuckle. “And by the way, that suit doesn’t do a thing for you.”
“You think it’s funny?” said Fordyce, suddenly angry. “I’ve been dealing with that crap all of my career and there’s nothing funny about it. And by the way, I’m going to say this was all your idea.”
They gave the basement apartment, where Chalker had spent the last two months of his life, a swift walk-through. It was small and stark, consisting of a tiny room in the front, a pullman kitchen and bathroom, and a back room with a single window. The apartment was scrupulously clean and smelled faintly of Pine-Sol and bleach. Six NEST personnel moved about slowly, scanning with various instruments, picking up fibers and dust, taking photographs. Nothing had been touched.
The front room was empty, save for a rug by the door with a row of flip-flops, and a second, small but sumptuous Persian rug in the middle.
Gideon paused, staring the rug. It was askew, out of line with the lines of the room.
“Prayer rug,” came Fordyce’s tinny voice over the intercom. “Pointing in the direction of Mecca.”
“Right. Of course.”
The only other item in the room was a Qur’an, open, resting on an elaborately carved book stand. Fordyce examined it and saw it was a bilingual edition, English and Arabic, and well worn. Many of the pages had been marked with strings.
It would be interesting to see which verses had attracted Chalker’s special attention. Gideon glanced at the page it was open to and his attention was immediately arrested by one verse, which had been marked:
Has there reached you the report of the Overwhelming Event?
Some faces, that day, will be humbled, working hard and exhausted.
They will burn in an intensive Fire.
They will be given drink from a boiling spring.
He looked up at Fordyce, who was also gazing at the book. He nodded slowly.
Fordyce pointed at the kitchen, then moved into it for a closer examination. It was as clean and bare as the rest of the apartment, everything in its place.
“Are we allowed to open the refrigerator?” Gideon asked Fordyce over the radio.
“Don’t ask. Just do it.”
Gideon opened the door. Inside was a carton of milk, a package of dates, leftover pizza in a carton, cheese, some Chinese food cartons, and other miscellaneous items. The freezer contained frozen lamb cubes, Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, and a bag of raw almonds. As he shut the door, Gideon noticed a calendar affixed to the side of the refrigerator with a magnet, a photograph of the Taj Mahal filling its upper half. In the calendar grid below, a number of appointments had been scribbled in Chalker’s hand. Gideon scanned them with interest while Fordyce came up behind.
Gideon grasped the calendar page and turned it back a month, then another. It was crabbed with cryptic appointments. “Jesus,” he murmured into the intercom, dropping the calendar back to the current month. “You see that?”
“See what?” asked Fordyce, staring at the empty calendar. “It’s blank.”
“That’s just it. The appointments just stop. There’re no appointments after the twenty-first of this month.”
“Which means?”
“We’re looking at the appointment calendar of a
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