Chapter 9 Section VIII

As scheduled, Decker knocked on McKittrick's door at exactly 12 noon.But no one agreed. Decker tapped again, waited a moment, frowning, then tapped a third time, and waited again, frowning even tighter.He glanced down the corridor and took out the lockpicking tool hidden in the collar of his leather jacket. Ten seconds later, he stormed into the apartment, closing the door behind him and drawing his pistol.Did McKittrick miss his appointment, or did something happen to him?Decker began to search carefully and carefully. Nobody in the living room, nobody in the bathroom, nobody in the kitchen, nobody in the bedroom, not even in the closet.Decker hated closets—who knew what might be hiding there.He felt his chest suffocating, and when he had searched, he sat down on a sofa in the living room and wondered what might happen.Everything in the apartment is in order, but what does that prove?McKittrick might be in trouble elsewhere.Maybe, Decker thought again, the bastard missed his appointment.

While waiting, Decker searched McKidrick's apartment again.This time he searched more carefully.He searched in, under and behind every drawer, under the mattress and under the bed, behind the ottoman and couch, in and behind the light stand and the bathroom cistern. He was shocked by the results of the search.Not only did McKittrick not destroy his records after he submitted his report, but he hid them in a not-so-predictable place—under a pad of paper on a kitchen shelf.In addition to the list of people Decker had seen the night before, he found a number of addresses, one of which was the apartment complex McKittrick and Renata had entered together, another a Burger club place.

Decker took the information to heart, put the records in a tray, set it ablaze, and crushed the ashes.He looked out of the small kitchen window and saw the brick wall of an alley, and took advantage of the breeze to scatter the paper dust down.His stomach was uncomfortably hungry.He cut a piece from a loaf of bread and carried it back to the living room, chewing slowly and staring at the front door of the apartment with a frown. It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon, and Decker's worries were growing.He thought, what should he do?He could go back to the multinational real estate consulting firm and make an emergency call to his supervisor to let him know that McKittrick hadn't been able to meet on time.But what else would that do except convince the supervisor that Decker was bent on messing with McKittrick?This guy's not doing his job well -- Decker's already reported the problem.So, isn't it possible that McKittrick forgot about the appointment or missed it on purpose?Maybe he was lying on the bed right now with his arms around Renata.

If that's the case, Decker thought, he's a lot smarter than me.When was the last time I lay in bed with someone in my arms?He can't remember.He travels around all the year round and has very few close friends of the opposite sex, all of whom are in his line of work.Casual girlfriends were out of the question—even before AIDS hit, Decker avoided the kind of one-night couple life.His theory was that having sex made a man let his guard down, and there was no reason to let his guard down with a woman he knew nothing about. This ghost job, Decker thought, not only makes you paranoid, it turns you into a monk.

He looked around the dreary living room, a musty smell piercing his nostrils.His stomach is still very uncomfortable. Happy birthday, he said to himself.