![Repairman Jack [08]-Crisscross](https://fs.collectorofbookboyfriends.com/476336/thumbs/152x264/repairman-jack-08-crisscross.jpg)
desk stood empty. He checked the closet. Last time he'd been here it was a miniature darkroom. Still was, but no file cabinets.
This explained the lack of security. He'd moved his operation. And the most logical site for relocation was his office at the other end of the park.
Time to go for a ride.
11
The gold letters on the window heralded the second-floor tenant.
CORDOVA SECURITY CONSULTANTS
LTD.
Jack shook his head. Ltd . Who did he think he was going to impress with that? Especially when his Ltd . was situated over a Tremont Avenue oriental deli with signs in English and Korean sharing space in its windows.
The inset door to the second floor lay to the left, sandwiched between the deli and a neighboring bakery. He walked past it twice, close enough to determine that it was secured with a standard pin and tumbler lock, and an old one to boot. He also noticed a little video lens pointed down at the two steps that led up to the door.
He hurried back to the car and pulled his camo boonie hat from the duffel, then returned to Tremont—officially East Tremont Avenue, but hardly anybody used the East —or the Avenue , for that matter.
Still a fair number of people on the sidewalks, even at this hour; mostly black and Hispanic. He waited till he had a decent window between strollers, then stepped up to the door, pick gun in hand. He kept his head down, letting the brim of the hat hide his face from the camera. Probability was ninety-nine percent that it was used to check on who wanted to be buzzed in and not connected to a recorder, but why take chances? He set to work on the lock. Took a whole five seconds to open it, and then he was in.
Atop the stairway he found a short hall. Two offices up here, Cordova's facing the street, the second toward the rear. He stepped up to the first door, an old wooden model that had been slathered with countless coats of paint over the years. An opaque pane of pebbled glass took up a good portion of the upper half. When Jack spotted the foil strip running around its perimeter, he knew where Cordova had stashed his dirt: right here.
Why pay for a security system at home when his office was alarmed?
But if this system was as antiquated as it appeared, Cordova was going to pay.
Oh, how he was going to pay.
But Jack needed to lay a little groundwork first. He'd tackle that tomorrow.
12
Back in his apartment, Jack thought about calling Gia to see how she was feeling, but figured she'd be asleep by now. He'd planned to watch a letterbox version of Bad Day at Black Rock in all its widescreen glory on his big TV—John Sturges and William Mellor knew how to stretch CinemaScope to the breaking point—but that would have to wait. The Book of Hokano was calling.
So Jack settled into his big recliner and opened the copy he'd picked up at Barnes & Noble. The two-inch spine was intimidating, but he opened it and began to read.
Abe hadn't been kidding: Dormentalism was a mishmash of half a dozen different religions, but the original parts were way over the top. And dull. The Book of Hokano made a civics textbook read like The Godfather .
He flipped through until he came to the appendices. Appendix A was called The Pillars of Dormentalism —a rip-off of the Pillars of Islam, maybe?
Looked like there were more than five. A lot more. Oh, goody.
He began to read…
First… there was the Presence and only the Presence. The Presence created the World, and it was good.
The Presence created Man and Woman and made them sentient by endowing each with a xelton, a Fragment of Its Eternal Self.
In the beginning Man and Woman were immortal — neither the flesh of the body nor the xelton within sickened or aged .
But Man and Woman rebelled against the Presence by believing they were the true Lords of Creation. This so displeased the Presence that It sundered Creation, dividing it in half The Presence erected the Wall of Worlds to separate this, the Home world, from its twin, the Hokano
This explained the lack of security. He'd moved his operation. And the most logical site for relocation was his office at the other end of the park.
Time to go for a ride.
11
The gold letters on the window heralded the second-floor tenant.
CORDOVA SECURITY CONSULTANTS
LTD.
Jack shook his head. Ltd . Who did he think he was going to impress with that? Especially when his Ltd . was situated over a Tremont Avenue oriental deli with signs in English and Korean sharing space in its windows.
The inset door to the second floor lay to the left, sandwiched between the deli and a neighboring bakery. He walked past it twice, close enough to determine that it was secured with a standard pin and tumbler lock, and an old one to boot. He also noticed a little video lens pointed down at the two steps that led up to the door.
He hurried back to the car and pulled his camo boonie hat from the duffel, then returned to Tremont—officially East Tremont Avenue, but hardly anybody used the East —or the Avenue , for that matter.
Still a fair number of people on the sidewalks, even at this hour; mostly black and Hispanic. He waited till he had a decent window between strollers, then stepped up to the door, pick gun in hand. He kept his head down, letting the brim of the hat hide his face from the camera. Probability was ninety-nine percent that it was used to check on who wanted to be buzzed in and not connected to a recorder, but why take chances? He set to work on the lock. Took a whole five seconds to open it, and then he was in.
Atop the stairway he found a short hall. Two offices up here, Cordova's facing the street, the second toward the rear. He stepped up to the first door, an old wooden model that had been slathered with countless coats of paint over the years. An opaque pane of pebbled glass took up a good portion of the upper half. When Jack spotted the foil strip running around its perimeter, he knew where Cordova had stashed his dirt: right here.
Why pay for a security system at home when his office was alarmed?
But if this system was as antiquated as it appeared, Cordova was going to pay.
Oh, how he was going to pay.
But Jack needed to lay a little groundwork first. He'd tackle that tomorrow.
12
Back in his apartment, Jack thought about calling Gia to see how she was feeling, but figured she'd be asleep by now. He'd planned to watch a letterbox version of Bad Day at Black Rock in all its widescreen glory on his big TV—John Sturges and William Mellor knew how to stretch CinemaScope to the breaking point—but that would have to wait. The Book of Hokano was calling.
So Jack settled into his big recliner and opened the copy he'd picked up at Barnes & Noble. The two-inch spine was intimidating, but he opened it and began to read.
Abe hadn't been kidding: Dormentalism was a mishmash of half a dozen different religions, but the original parts were way over the top. And dull. The Book of Hokano made a civics textbook read like The Godfather .
He flipped through until he came to the appendices. Appendix A was called The Pillars of Dormentalism —a rip-off of the Pillars of Islam, maybe?
Looked like there were more than five. A lot more. Oh, goody.
He began to read…
First… there was the Presence and only the Presence. The Presence created the World, and it was good.
The Presence created Man and Woman and made them sentient by endowing each with a xelton, a Fragment of Its Eternal Self.
In the beginning Man and Woman were immortal — neither the flesh of the body nor the xelton within sickened or aged .
But Man and Woman rebelled against the Presence by believing they were the true Lords of Creation. This so displeased the Presence that It sundered Creation, dividing it in half The Presence erected the Wall of Worlds to separate this, the Home world, from its twin, the Hokano
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