Prodigal Son

below, deserted at this hour.
        Jonathan dropped Pribeaux off the roof. The killer screamed but not loud or long.
        In desperate physical condition before he had been dropped, Roy Pribeaux had no chance whatsoever of surviving the fall. The sound of him hitting the pavement was a lesson in the fragility of the human skeleton.
        Jonathan left the elevator at the roof and took the stairs to the ground floor. He walked to his car, which he had parked three blocks away.
        En route, he tossed the garbage bag full of bloody paper towels in a convenient Dumpster.
        In the car, he used a cell phone that just hours ago he had taken off a drug dealer whom he rousted near the Quarter. He called 911, disguised his voice, and pretended to be a junkie who, shooting up in an alley, saw a man jump from a warehouse roof.
        Call completed, he tossed the phone out of the car window.
        He was still wearing the latex gloves. He stripped them off as he drove.

CHAPTER 56
        
        THE ELEVATOR IS like a three-dimensional crossword-puzzle box, descending to the basement of the Hands of Mercy.
        Randal Six had turned left in the second-floor hallway, entering the elevator on his fourth step; therefore, the letter that this box contains-and from which he must proceed when he reaches the lower level-is t.
        When the doors open, he says, "Toward," and steps o-w-a-r-d into the corridor.
        A life of greater mobility is proving easier to achieve than he had expected. He is not yet ready to drive a car in the Indianapolis 500, and he may not even be ready for a slow walk in the world beyond these walls, but he's making progress.
        Years ago, Father had conducted some of his most revolutionary experiments on this lowest floor of the hospital. The rumors of what he created here, which Randal has overheard, are as numerous as they are disturbing.
        A battle seems to have been fought on this level. A section of the corridor wall has been broken down, as if something smashed its way out of one of the rooms.
        To the right of the elevator, half the width of the passageway is occupied by organized piles of rubble: broken concrete blocks, twisted rebar in mare's nests of rust, mounds of plaster, steel door frames wrenched into peculiar shapes, the formidable steel doors themselves bent in half…
        According to Hands of Mercy legend, something had gone so wrong down here that Father wished always to keep the memory of it clear in his mind and, therefore, made no repairs and left the rubble instead of having it hauled away Dozens of the New Race had perished here in an attempt to contain… something.
        Because Father enters and exits Mercy every day on this level, he is regularly confronted with the evidence of the terrible crisis that apparently almost led to the destruction of his life's work. Some even dare to speculate that Father nearly died here, though to repeat this claim seems like blasphemy
        Turning away from the rubble, Randal Six uses the last letter of toward to spell determination in a new direction.
        By a series of side steps that spell small words, alternating with forward steps that spell long words, he comes to a door at the end of the hallway. This is not locked.
        Beyond is a storage room with rows of cabinets in which are kept hard-copy backup files of the project's computerized records.
        Directly opposite the first door stands another. That one will be locked. Through it, Father comes and goes from Mercy.
        Randal Six navigates the tile floor in this room by means of crosswords, at last settling in a hiding place between rows of file cabinets, near the second door but not within sight of it.
        Now he must wait.

CHAPTER 57
        
        FROM THE LUXE, Carson went to Homicide, settled at the computer on her desk, and launched her web browser.
        There was no graveyard shift in Homicide. Detectives worked when the investigation required, night or day, but they tended to be in-office less as the day waned, on call but not sitting desks in the wee hours. At the moment, though the night was not yet that late, she sat alone in the corpse-chasers' corner.
        Reeling from what Deucalion had told her, Carson wasn't sure what to believe. She found it surprisingly difficult to disbelieve any of his story regardless of the fact that it was fantastic to the point of