Chapter 17 Section 16

Several floors up in the researcher's study, Deputy Captain D'Agosta sat on a wide leather sofa.He smacked his lips contentedly, crossed one chubby leg over the knee of the other, and glanced left and right.Pendergast reclined in an armchair behind his writing desk, absorbed in a lithographed book.Above his head is a rococo gold frame containing a large Audubon painting of a snowy heron courtship.The oak paneling above the perforated panels of the dado gleamed with a centuries-old patina.Beneath a molded tin roof, elegant gilt light shines through hand-blown window panes.In one corner of the room was a large fireplace of finely carved dolomite.What a place, D'Agosta thought.old money.old new york.This New York has class divisions.Not the place to smoke a quarter cigar.He lit a cigar.

"It's past two-thirty, Pendergast," he exhaled blue smoke, "where do you think Wright went?" Pendergast shrugged, "I want to show us off." He said as he turned a page of the book. D'Agosta stared at the Bureau agent for a minute. "You know what these big men in the museum are, and think they can make anyone wait for them," he said finally, watching Pendergast's reaction, "Since yesterday morning, Wright and his henchmen have treated us as second class Citizens look." Pendergast turned another page and murmured, "I didn't even know the museum had Piranesi's full set of square drawings."

D'Agosta snorted to himself, thinking: It should be interesting. After lunch, he quietly called a few friends from the Bureau of Investigation.Turns out they not only knew about Pendergast, but heard a lot about him: Graduated with honors from some British university - probably true; Special Forces officer who was captured in Vietnam but walked out of the jungle ; the sole survivor of a certain Cambodian death camp — D'Agosta wasn't so sure about it.But he corrected his opinion of Pendergast anyway. The heavy door opened silently, and Wright entered the room, followed by the security chief.Wright suddenly sat down opposite the Bureau of Investigation agent. "You must be Pendergast," the curator sighed. "Speak quickly."

D'Agosta leaned back and watched the show. Pendergast continued to flip through the pages, and the room fell into a long silence.Wright moved his body. "If you're busy," he said angrily, "we can talk at another time." The huge book hid Pendergast's face. "No," he said finally, "it's fine now." He turned a page, then another, nonchalantly. D'Agosta watched with interest as the curator blushed. "The Chief of Security is not required to attend this meeting," said the voice behind the book. "Mr. Ippolito's participation in this investigation—"

The agent's eyes suddenly popped above the spine of the book. "I am in charge of the investigation, Mr. Wright," said Pendergast calmly. "Now, could Mr. Hippolito do me a favor—?" Ippolito looked nervously at Wright, who waved him back. "Look, Mr. Pendergast," Wright said as soon as the door closed, "I need to keep this museum running, and I don't have much time. I hope you can make a long story short." Pendergast carefully placed the open book on the desk in front of him. "I have often felt," he said slowly, "that Piranesi's early classicism is his best painting. Do you agree?"

Wright was beyond description. "I don't see," he stammered, "what does it matter—" "Of course his later works are interesting, but for my taste, too fantasy-colored." Pendergast replied. "Actually," said the curator in his most admonishing tone, "I've always thought—" The book snapped shut with a sound like a gunshot. "Actually, Mr. Wright," snapped Pendergast, his politeness suddenly gone, "you've got to forget what you've been thinking all along. Let's play a little game. I'll ask you a question, and you'll just have to answer. Got it? "

Wright sat there speechless for a while, and then anger climbed up his face: "Mr. Pendergast, I don't allow you to talk to me in this tone—" Pendergast interrupted him: "Dr. Wright, haven't you read the front page of the newspaper? There have been three brutal murders at the museum in the last forty-eight hours. Three. The media speculated that some bloodthirsty beast Responsible for this. Museum attendance has dropped by 50% since the weekend. Staff are distraught - that would be an understatement. Dr. Wright, did you bother to walk around your museum today? You probably would The feeling of enlightenment. The feeling of fear is almost palpable. Most people walk in groups in twos and twos, even if they dare to leave the office. The maintenance staff will make any excuse, as long as they can stay away from the old basement. But you still look like The world looks peaceful. Trust me, Dr. Wright, something is wrong with the museum." Pendergast leaned forward, slowly folding his arms over the book.His movements were calm and unhurried, but very frightening, his light-colored eyes were abnormally cold, and the curator involuntarily leaned back.D'Agosta unconsciously held his breath.Pendergast waited a moment before speaking again.

"There are three ways to handle this matter. He said your way, my way, and the Bureau's way. In the current situation, your way is absolutely obvious. I know that the police investigation has been secretly Blocking. Among other things, it takes a long time to even return the phone call. The person I want to find is either too busy or missing. The person I can find—such as Mr. Ippolito—is obviously not of much use. Always late for appointments. Alas, enough to arouse my suspicions. So, from now on, your ways are void." Pendergast waited for a counterattack, but did not wait for an answer, so he continued.

"Typically, the Bureau's approach is to close museums, suspend all activities, cancel exhibitions. This will have very bad repercussions, I assure you of that. Both the taxpayers and you will lose a lot. But I All else being equal, the museum remains open. But there are a few conditions. First," he said, "I want you to guarantee the full cooperation of museum personnel with the investigation. We will need you and other high-level officials from time to time. Employees talk, and follow orders. I also need a list of all employees. We're going to interview everyone who worked near the murder location, and anyone who came into the murder location for any reason. If you can personally oversee this , then I can't thank you enough. We'll have a schedule and everyone has to show up."

"But the museum has 2,500 employees—" Wright said. "Second," continued Pendergast, "starting tomorrow, we will restrict staff access to the museum until the investigation is closed. The ban is for the safety of the staff, at least you should tell everyone that." "But the museum has vital research—" "Third," Pendergast pointed casually at Wright with three fingers like a big-caliber pistol, "we may sometimes need to close the museum, either completely or partially. In some cases, only visitors will be turned away; in other cases, even staff members will not be allowed in. Notifications may come in haste. I hope you will cooperate.”

Wright's anger finally broke out. "The museum is only closed three days a year: Christmas, New Year's Day, and Thanksgiving," he said. "Your request is unprecedented and the repercussions will be very bad." He stared at Pendergast for a long time, "and said, I don't think you have that power. I think we should—" He paused as Pendergast had picked up the phone. "Who are you calling?" Wright asked. "Dr. Wright, talking to you is too much work. Let's talk to the Attorney General." Pendergast started dialing. "Wait a minute," Wright said, "let's talk about ours and don't involve anyone else." "It's up to you." Pendergast had finished dialing the number. "For God's sake, put the phone down," Wright said angrily. "Okay, we'll fully cooperate—for the right reasons." "Very well," said Pendergast, "we can do it again at any time in the future if you feel there is any reason for inappropriateness." He put down the receiver gently. "Since I am willing to cooperate," Wright continued, "then I think I have the right to know the progress of the investigation of the recent tragedy. As far as I can see, you have made precious little progress." "Of course, Dr. Wright," said Pendergast, looking at the papers on the table, "according to your attendance clock, the new victim, Jolly, had an accident shortly after ten-thirty last night. The coroner's report will bear this out. As you know, he suffered similar lacerations to the previous two victims. He was killed while on patrol, although the stairwell where the body was found was not part of his normal route. He may have been Investigating suspicious noises or the like or just taking a breather to smoke a joint. We found a recently smoked joint in the archway just outside the exit to the stairwell. Police are of course testing the body for doping." "Jesus, I caught up with it," Wright said, "but did you find any useful clues? Wild animals or something? You—" Pendergast raised his hand to signal for him to be quiet: "I don't want to speculate, I prefer to discuss the existing evidence with experts before drawing conclusions. Some experts may be among your staff. To be honest, we have not yet Find evidence that any animals were present at the scene." "The body was found lying at the bottom of the stairwell but the attack apparently took place near the top as blood and internal organs were found all over the stairwell. He either rolled himself down or was dragged to the bottom. There is no evidence for what you say, Dr. Wright," Pendergast picked up a brown paper envelope from the table, "you can see for yourself." He took out a photo and carefully placed it on the table. "Oh my God," Wright stared at the photo, "God bless." "Blood splattered the wall on the right hand side of the stairwell," Pendergast said. "Here's the picture." He handed the photo to Wright, who quickly placed it on top of the previous one. "Blood splatter trajectory and ballistic analysis are the same thing," Pendergast went on, "and in this case, the evidence shows that there was a blow from the top down that momentarily opened the victim's chest. .” Pendergast put down the stack of photos and looked at his watch. "Deputy Captain D'Agosta will work with you to make arrangements to ensure that the investigation proceeds as we have discussed," he said. "One last question, Dr. Wright. Which researcher here knows the best about the anthropological collections in the library ?” Dr. Wright didn't seem to hear his question, and he answered in a barely audible voice after a while: "Dr. Flock." "Very well," said Pendergast. "Oh, doctor, one more point—I said the museum can remain open, other things being equal. But if another person dies on your property, the museum will have to close immediately. Got it. At that time, the situation will be out of my control. Do you understand?" It took a long time for Wright to nod. "Very well," replied Pendergast, "Doctor, I noticed that your Global Indigenous Culture Exhibition is planned for this weekend, with a grand preview on Friday night. I would love to see you An opening ceremony is held, but everything depends on what we find out in the next twenty-four hours. We may be forced to postpone the opening reception out of an abundance of caution." Wright's left eyelid began to twitch: "Absolutely impossible. Our entire marketing campaign would come to a sudden halt, and the impact would be devastating." "We'll see then," replied Pendergast. "Now, if you have nothing else to say, I think we won't waste your time." Wright, whose face was already pale, stood up, without saying a word, and walked out of the room in a daze. Watching the door close, D'Agosta grinned and said, "It's very skillful, and that bitch has been subdued." "Vice-captain, where do you start with this?" Pendergast lay down in the leather chair and picked up the book with renewed enthusiasm. "Come on, Pendergast," D'Agosta said, looking calmly at the FBI agent. "If you need to, you'll obviously be able to put aside your polite manners at any time." Pendergast blinked innocently. "I'm sorry, Lieutenant, please forgive my indecent behavior. I just can't stand bureaucrats who put on airs. I'm sorry, I can be very grumpy when I meet them." He held up his book. "Bad habits, but hard to break .”