The Toyota pickup rumbled south down the Sacramento Valley. Al-Qasr looked at himself in the rear-view mirror. Who the hell was that? The shock and suppressed excitement made him laugh out loud. This was a damn sight better than staring at chromosomes and base sequences from one end of the day to the other, wondering all the time when he would be released. It had been hell. He hadn’t even realised how bad it had been. He felt like a slave whose shackles had been smashed.
Al-Qasr put his foot down and giggled, exhilarated at his newfound liberty, careless of his life and everything else. He felt great. He didn’t notice the red light and ringing bells where the road crossed the Sacramento to Redding railroad at Marysville, north of Yuba City. He didn’t notice the railroad crossing barrier coming down in front of him.
The pickup screamed as tyre rubber burned into the tarmac. The barrier hit the windscreen. Al-Qasr cried out as a great crack appeared in front of him. Shaken, he reversed the pickup into a long-distance truck that had edged up behind him. The incensed driver jumped from the cab to inspect the damage.
Al-Qasr bit his lip and closed his eyes. Opening them he glimpsed a couple waiting on the other side of the tracks. Was the woman pointing at him? Who was that man staring? He knew that face. She was staring too. Leanne Gresham.
The truck driver banged on al-Qasr’s nearside window, mouthing something al-Qasr couldn’t hear. A silver Amtrak passenger train rattled up the line. He wound his window down.
‘You’re sure as hell lucky this time, bud. What are you, some kinda religious nut?’
‘You’re confusing me with someone else.’ Al-Qasr looked to his glove compartment. One shot and… the police would be all over him.
‘Hey, fuckhead! I ain’t confusin’ you with nobody! I thought you’d wanna know this ain’t gonna cost you nuthin’.’
‘Delighted to hear it, sir. Is it money you want?’ Al-Qasr didn’t know what he was saying. The bells had stopped ringing. The barrier was opening, and she was still staring at him.
‘I don’t want yer fuckin’ money, man!’
‘OK, OK. I got the message. Now I’m in a hurry.’
‘So take your time at a fuckin’ crossing! Think of the next guy!’
Al-Qasr slammed his foot on the clutch and rammed the pickup into first, trying not to look at the car coming towards him. He looked to the right to obscure his face.
‘I dunno what you mean, Leanne. I always thought those Hasidic Jews looked the same. I thought that was the idea. No vanity. You know, like a uniform. The homburg hat, the ringlets, the steel-rimmed glasses, overcoats. Still, I gotta say I never saw one in a Toyota pickup tryin’ to smash his way into a railroad crossing before.’
‘Well, there was something about him. I got the feeling he recognised me. I’m sure I’ve seen him before somewhere.’
‘Intuition?’
‘Yeah. Isn’t that why you said Lee Kellner wanted me to interview al-Qasr?’
‘Sure. And it’s an Arab suspect we’re lookin’ into, not a… Unless…’
‘Unless what?’
‘How did al-Qasr react when you spoke to him about today’s meeting?’
‘Charming as ever. Said it had been a long time and he had a lot to talk about.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘I said we were going to improve security around him, and could he bear having two agents around for a while. He was enthusiastic. Maybe too enthusiastic.’
‘We could get the FBI onto the guy in the pickup.’
‘Lee was emphatic, Sherman. Keep it internal.’
The Mercedes rested in a large puddle beneath a dripping pine tree. The air was steamy, hot. Beck looked at Leanne. They kissed warmly.
‘Later, cowboy.’
‘So at last I get to meet the bio-wizard himself.’
Beck helped Leanne avoid the puddle as she stepped out of the Merc. RIBOTech was almost deserted. Beck shook his head.
‘It’s Saturday, Sherman. Everyone’s gone to the game.’
Gresham and Beck stepped towards the small reception area and pressed the buzzer. An old man in a light-blue uniform appeared behind the plate-glass windows. One hand gripped his reading glasses, the other gripped his side holster.
‘I see they put their best man on the job.’ Gresham nudged Beck, smiled at the man and showed her ID through the glass.
He looked carefully at it, scratched his bald head, then went back to his desk and picked up a microphone. The croaky voice echoed about the entrance.
‘What’s your business, ma’am?’
Beck looked to the grille below the buzzer. ‘CTC, officer. Check your book.’
The old man fumbled with his daybook. ‘Your name, sir?’
‘Beck.’
‘Christian name?’
‘Sherman.’
The guard pressed the entry button and the front door clicked.
‘Name’s Starbuck. Everyone calls me Cliff.’
‘OK. It’s customary to search visitors, Mr Beck. But in your case, I guess I’d be surprised if you weren’t carrying a piece. Frankly, I can’t see why you’ve come. There’s no one here except Mr Lowenfeld.’
‘What about Professor al-Qasr?’
‘I ain’t seen him since yesterday, sir.’
Beck looked at Gresham. ‘Don’t tell me—’
‘The pickup?’
Gresham checked the daybook. ‘Look here, Officer. Al-Qasr came in this morning at six-thirty.’
‘Ah right. Yeah, well I didn’t get here till seven. You’d have to ask the night-man. I let Mr Lowenfeld into Professor al-Qasr’s office at 7.30. He wasn’t there then.’
‘We’ll check, Officer.’
‘You know the way, ma’am?’
Leanne nodded. ‘You keep an eye out, Mr Starbuck. Anyone arrive or leave while we’re upstairs, just give us the word.’
‘You betcha!’ Starbuck saluted.
Beck hurried to join Leanne on the oak stairs to the first floor. ‘Needn’t panic yet, Leanne. We’re still ten minutes early.’
Leanne Gresham did not look convinced. She knocked on the outer door of al-Qasr’s office. She tried the handle; it was open. They walked in.
‘Dr Lowenfeld! You there? Dr Lowenfeld!’ She turned to Beck. ‘You check the men’s room. And don’t be too long in there.’
Gresham knocked on the laboratory doors, then ran her omni-pass through the security lock. The doors clicked open. ‘Dr Lowenfeld! Professor al-Qasr! Leanne Gresham here!’
A shiver shot up her spine: a smell around al-Qasr’s desk.
Behind it was a row of long cupboards around two feet high. She bent down under the desk; the smell seemed stronger. A hint of almonds.
Gresham heard footsteps echoing loudly in the corridor.
‘That you, Sherman?’ She started pulling at the cupboard door. ‘That you?’
The cupboard door scuffed open. God, that was bad! Must be the pipes.
The lab doors burst open. Gresham pulled at the cupboard.
‘Hold it there, Leanne! Don’t move!’
Gresham let go of the cupboard door.
‘Get right away from there, Leanne!’
‘All right. All right. I seen a corpse before, Sherman.’
‘I’m talking about the wire.’
‘Wire?’
‘Booby-trapped.’
‘I didn’t see. I…’
‘Trick of the light, Leanne. I’ll call the disposal guys down at al-Qasr’s house.’
‘And I’ll get on to Kellner.’
‘Why?’
‘Authority to detain Hasidic Jews leaving San Francisco airport today.’
‘Still think it was him?’
‘Would we be forgiven if we did nothing?’