t it was really just as well。 Because an hour ago； the things started to arrive。〃 He shrugged。 〃He refused to eat hospital food； insisted on ordering in from Balducci's。 Refused an IV drip。 Refused painkillers…no OxyContin； not even Vicodin or Tylenol Number 3。 He must be in dreadful pain； but doesn't show it。 With these new patient…rights guidelines； my hands are tied。〃
〃It sounds just like him。〃
〃The bright side is that the most difficult patients usually make the fastest recovery。 I just feel sorry for the nurses。〃 The doctor glanced at his watch。 〃You might as well head over there now。 Room 1501。〃
As Nora approached the room； she noticed a faint odor in the air： something out of place among the aromas of stale food and rubbing alcohol。 Something exotic； fragrant。 A shrill voice echoed out of the open door。 She paused in the doorway and gave a little knock。
The floor of the room was stacked high with old books； and a riot of maps and papers lay across them。 Tall sticks of sandalwood incense were propped inside silver cups； sending up slender coils of smoke。 That accounts for the smell； Nora thought。 A nurse was standing near the bed； clutching a plastic pill box in one hand and a syringe in the other。 Pendergast lay on the bed in a black silk dressing gown。 The overhead television showed a splayed body； grotesque and bloody； being worked on by no fewer than three doctors。 One of the doctors was in the middle of lifting a wobbly brain out of the skull。 She looked away。 On the bedside table was a dish of drawn butter and the remains of coldwater lobster tails。
〃Mr。 Pendergast； I insist you take this injection；〃 the nurse was saying。 〃You've just undergone a serious operation。 You must have your sleep。〃
Pendergast withdrew his arms from behind his head； picked up a dusty volume lying atop the sheets； and began leafing through it nonchalantly。 〃Nurse； I have no intention of taking that。 I shall sleep when I'm ready。〃 Pendergast blew dust from the book's spine and turned the page。
〃I'm going to call the doctor。 This is pletely unacceptable。 And this filth is highly unsanitary。〃 She waved her hand through the clouds of dust。
Pendergast nodded； leafed over another page。
The nurse stormed past Nora on her way out。
Pendergast glanced at her and smiled。 〃Ah； Dr。 Kelly。 Please e in and make yourself fortable。〃
Nora took a seat in a chair at the foot of the bed。 〃Are you all right？〃
He nodded。
〃What happened？〃
〃I was careless。〃
〃But who did it？ Where？ When？〃
〃Outside my residence；〃 said Pendergast。 He held up the remote and turned off the video； then laid the book aside。 〃A man in black； with a cane； wearing a derby hat。 He tried to chloroform me。 I held my breath and pretended to faint； then broke away。 But he was extraordinarily strong and swift； and I underestimated him。 He stabbed me； then escaped。〃
〃You could have been killed！〃
〃That was the intention。〃
〃The doctor said it missed your heart by an inch。〃
〃Yes。 When I realized he was going to stab me； I directed his hand to a nonvital place。 A useful trick； by the way； if you ever find yourself in a similar position。〃
He leaned forward slightly。 〃Dr。 Kelly； I'm convinced he's the same man who killed Doreen Hollander and Mandy Eklund。〃
Nora looked at him sharply。 〃What makes you say that？〃
〃I caught a glimpse of the weapon…a surgeon's scalpel with a myringotomy blade。〃
〃But 。 。 。 but why you？〃
Pendergast smiled； but the smile held more pain than mirth。 〃That shouldn't be hard to answer。 Somewhere along the way； we brushed up a little too close to the truth。 We flushed him out。 This is a very positive development。〃
〃A positive development？ You could still be in danger！〃
Pendergast raised his pale eyes and looked at her intently。 〃I am not the only one； Dr。 Kelly。 You and Mr。 Smithback must take precautions。〃 He winced slightly。
〃You should have taken that painkiller。〃
〃For what I plan to do； it's essential to keep my head clear。 People did without painkillers for countless centuries。 As I was saying； you should take precautions。 Don't venture out alone on the streets at night。 I have a great deal of trust in Sergeant O'Shaughnessy。〃 He slipped a card into her hand。 〃If you need anything； call him。 I'll be up and about in a few days。〃
She nodded。
〃Meanwhile； it might be a good idea for you to get out of town for a day。 There's a talkative； lonely old lady up in Peekskill who would love to have visitors。〃
She sighed。 〃I told you why I couldn't help anymore。 And you still haven't told me why you're spending your time with these old murders。〃
〃Anything I told you now would be inplete。 I have more work of my own to do； more pieces of the puzzle to fit together。 But let me assure you of one thing； Dr。 Kelly： this is no frivolous field trip。 It is vital that we learn more about Enoch Leng。〃
There was a silence。
〃Do it for Mary Greene； if not for me。〃
Nora rose to leave。
〃And Dr。 Kelly？〃
〃Yes？〃
〃Smithback isn't such a bad fellow。 I know from experience that he's a reliable man in a pinch。 It would ease my mind if； while all this is going on； you two worked together…〃
Nora shook her head。 〃No way。〃
Pendergast held up his hand with a certain impatience。 〃Do it for your own safety。 And now； I need to get back to my work。 I look forward to hearing back from you tomorrow。〃
His tone was peremptory。 Nora left； feeling annoyed。 Yet again Pendergast had dragged her back into the case； and now he wanted to burden her with that ass Smithback。 Well； forget Smithback。 He'd just love to get his hands on part two of the story。 Him and his Pulitzer。 She'd go to Peekskill； all right。 But she'd go by herself。
NINE
THE BASEMENT ROOM was small and silent。 In its simplicity it resembled a monk's cell。 Only a narrow…legged wooden table and stiff； unfortable chair broke the monotony of the uneven stone floor； the damp unfinished walls。 A black light in the ceiling threw a spectral blue pall over the four items upon the table： a scarred and rotting leather notebook； a lacquer fountain pen； a tan…colored length of India…rubber； and a hypodermic syringe。
The figure in the chair glanced at each of the carefully aligned items in turn。 Then； very slowly； he reached for the hypodermic。 The needle glowed with strange enchantment in the ultraviolet light； and the serum inside the glass tube seemed almost to smoke。
He stared at the serum； turning it this way and that； fascinated by its eddies； its countless miniature whorls。 This was what the ancients had been searching for： the Philosopher's Stone； the Holy Grail； the one true name of God。 Much sacrifice had been made to get it…on his part； on the part of the long stream of resources who had donated their lives to its refinement。 But any amount of sacrifice was acceptable。 Here before him was a universe of life； encased in a prison of glass。 His life。 And to think it all started with a single material： the neuronal membrane of the cauda equina； the divergent sheaf of spinal ganglia with the longest nerve roots of all。 To bathe all the cells of the body with the essence of neurons； the cells that did not die： such a simple concept； yet so damnably plicated in development。
The process of synthesis and refinement was tortuous。 And yet he took great pleasure in it； just as he did in the ritual he was about to perform。 Creating the final reduction； moving from step to step to step； had bee a religious experience for him。 It was like the countless Gnostic keys the believer must perform before true prayer can begin。 Or the harpsichordist who works his way through the twenty…nine Goldberg Variations before arriving at the final； pure； unadorned truth Bach intended。
The pleasure of these reflections was troubled briefly by the thought of those who would stop him； if they could： who would seek him out； follow the carefully obscured trail to this room； put a halt to his noble work。 The most troublesome one had already been punished for his presumption…though not as fully punished as intended。 Still； there would be other methods； other opportunities。
Placing the hypodermic gently aside； he reached for the leather…bound journal； turned over