The deputy commander strode quickly, looked purposeful and grim. Swinging his arms as if marching in a military parade.
Dress-down time; the fallout from Wilbur's arrest.
They'd locked the reporter in a solitary holding cell, using the mischief he'd provoked at Beit Gvura to invoke the security clause and withhold counsel. Slowed the paperwork by having Avi Cohen handle it-for all Daniel knew the poor kid was still breaking his teeth on the forms. But by now, someone was bound to have found out; the wire service attorneys were probably pouring on the threats, the brass catching them and passing them down the line.
Laufer was three meters away. Daniel looked him in the eye, readied himself for the assault.
To his surprise, the D.C. merely said "Good morning, Sharavi," and walked on.
When he got to the office, he saw the reason why.
A man was sitting opposite his desk, slumped low in the chair, chin on knuckles, dozing. A half-consumed cigar lay smoldering in the ashtray, letting off wisps of strong, bitter smoke.
The man's chest heaved; his face rolled. A familiar, ruddy face above a corpulent, short-limbed body that filled the chair, ample thighs stuffed into trousers like sausages in casing, spilling over the seat. The cleft chin capped by a tiny white goatee.
Daniel knew the man was seventy-five but he looked ten years younger-good skin tone and an incongruously boyish thatch of yellow-gray hair. The collar points of an open-necked white shirt spread over the lapels of a rumpled gunmetal-gray sport coat, revealing a semicircle of hairless pink flesh.
The tightly packed trousers were dove-gray and in need of pressing; the shoes below them, inexpensive ripple-soled walkers. A maroon silk handkerchief flourished from the breast pocket of the sport coat-a dandyish touch at odds with the rest of the ensemble. Another incongruity, but the man was known for surprises.
Daniel closed the door. The corpulent man continued to sleep-a familiar pose. Newspaper photographers delighted in catching him napping at official functions-slumping, dead to the world, next to some stiff-backed visiting dignitary.
Narcolepsy, his detractors suggested; the man was braindamaged, not fit for his job. Others suggested it was an affection. Part of the stylized image he'd wrought for himself over twenty years.
Daniel edged past the pudgy gray knees, went behind his desk, and sat down.
As Shmeltzer had promised, a file labeled TOUR data was right there in front of him. He picked it up. The sleeping man opened pale-gray eyes, grunted, and stared at him.
Daniel put the tour file aside. "Good morning, Mr. Mayor."
"Good morning, Pakad Sharavi. We've met-the Concert Hall dedication. You had a mustache then."
"Yes." Three years ago-Daniel barely remembered it. He had served on the security detail, hadn't exchanged a word with the man.
Having done away with pleasantries, the mayor sat up and frowned.
"I've been waiting for you for an hour," he said, totally alert. Before Daniel could reply, he went on: "These murders, all this nonsense about butchers and sacrifices and revenge, it's creating problems for me. Already the tourist figures have dropped. What are you doing about it?"
Daniel began summarizing the investigation.
"I know all that," the mayor interrupted. "I meant what's new."
"Nothing."
The mayor picked up the now-cold cigar, lit it, and inhaled.
"An honest man-Diogenes would be happy. Meanwhile, the city is threatening to boil over. The last thing we need is a tourist slump on top of the recession. That note, with the Bible passages-any validity to it?"
"Possibly."
"No evasions, please. Are we dealing with a Jew2 One of the black-coats?"
"There's no evidence of any particular group at work."
"What about Kagan's bunch?"
"No evidence. Personally, I doubt it."
"Why's that?"
"We've checked them out thoroughly."
"Avigdor Laufer thinks they're a suspicious lot."
'Avigdor Laufer thinks lots of things."
The mayor laughed. "Yes, he is a jackass." The laughter died abruptly, making it seem false.
"The note," said Daniel, "may be someone trying to blame it on religious Jews."
"Is that a professional opinion, or just your kipah speaking?'
"The Bible quotes were out of sequence, out of context. There was a manufactured quality to the note."
"Fine, fine," said the mayor with seeming uninterest.
!nt is, what are we doing about it?"
"Our procedures are sound. The only choice is to continue."
The mayor narrowed his eyes'. "No excuses, eh?"
Daniel shook his head.
"How long before progress?"
"I can't promise you anything. Serial killers are notoriously hard to catch."
"Serial killers," said the mayor, as if hearing the term for the first time. Then he mutterd something that sounded like "killer ants."
"Pardon me?"
"This Wilbur, when are you releasing him?"
"He has yet to be arraigned on the obstruction charge. The paperwork is in progress."
"You're not actually expecting to take him to trial?"
"He's being treated like any other-"
"Come now, Pakad, we're not two Kurdis in some fertilizer factory, so stop shoveling shit."
"He withheld material evidence."
"Is he a murderer?"
"It's possible."
"Probable?"
"No."
"Then let him go. I don't need extra headaches on top of your serial butcher."
"He may prove useful-"
"In what way?"
"If the killer contacts him again-"
"He won't be contacted in prison, Pakad."
"He can be released pending trial and kept under surveillance."
"And if he chooses to leave the country?"
"That can be prevented."
"You want to hold him hostage to use him? What is this-Beirut?"
"We have sufficient-"
"Let him go," said the mayor. Suddenly his tone was waspish, his face hard as granite. He leaned forward and jabbed his cigar. Like a bayonet. A coin of ash fell on Daniel's desk.
"With all due respect-"
"If you respect me, stop arguing and let the idiot go. I've talked to his boss in New York, chairman of the corporation that owns the wire service. They know his conduct was unprofessional, promise to keep his arrest under wraps, transfer him somewhere he can't do any damage-not immediately, within a month or two. The appearance of capitulation must be avoided. But the deal's only good if we release him immediately."
"In the meantime he writes."