Somehow Gideon felt that it was something beyond an initial.
Gideon's search for meaning in the symbol began to take him further afield than just an alphabet. He found a site that used the Sefer Yetzirah, an ancient Hebrew occult text that explained how The Creator used the twenty- two letters of the Hebrew alphabet to create the Universe and all the living things in it. The site assigned Hebrew letters to various amino acids. It was strange, and Gideon didn't quite understand it, but it started him thinking toward the occult.
On the Sefer Yetzirah page he found references to Kabbalah, apparently an old form of Hebrew numerology that used the number-letter equivalence of the Hebrew alphabet extensively. He redid his search for the word 'Kabbalah.' He read how, to Jewish mystics, every letter was connected to the life force of God and possessed of sacred meaning.
He found a New Age page that ascribed relationships between the Kabbalistic letters and tarot cards. Aleph seemed associated with the tarot card 'The Fool.'
Gideon searched until he found a picture of 'The Fool,' and found an image of a young man carrying a pack over his shoulder, a dog nipping at his heels. He seemed caught just before he took his last step over a precipice. Gideon felt as if he were going in the wrong direction, but there was something about the Fool that seemed prophetic.
After a while of finding esoteric things like the 'tree of life' that didn't help him in his current questions, he started over again with a search simply for 'aleph.'
He found that a lot of agencies, corporations, and software companies used the word in their name or in the names of their products. He also found some more New Age mysticism, a meditation on 'aleph,' which repeated the association with the Fool.
Gideon ended his search on the 'Aleph Homepage,' which told him that it was the first letter of the first alphabet—Phoenician, Hebrew, or even Protosinaitic—and the origin of the alphabet went back as far as the eighteenth century BC. According to the page, 'Aleph' represented the origin of all written material.
It was after midnight when he pushed himself away from his computer, feeling unenlightened.
1.11 Sun. Mar 8
The Zodiac was a dark strip club north of New York Avenue, in one of the dozens of depressed areas in the District. It would have been in sight of the capital if it was above ground. Its decor resembled a condemned building. The walls were spray-painted fluorescent colors, and if Gideon stared up through the gloom, he could see pipes hugging the rafters above. It was one of those places that made him feel sick and alone.
The strippers matched the environment, dancing to old Deborah Harry with a passionless fatigue.
The mood of this place, and lack of sleep, made it a little too easy for him to imagine his own future. Old, alone, no family— The fears caught him in the same ache that had been inside him since Raphael was shot.
He had just stepped inside, leaning on his crutches. A minute later, Morris Kendal walked into The Zodiac.
Kendal was bigger than either of the bouncers. He snorted at the place, turning so that every part of it got a good look at his sneer. Gideon might have passed for a regular at this kind of place, but Kendal was dressed at least a grand better than The Zodiac rated.
He walked up and placed a hand on Gideon's shoulder and said, 'This place smells like shit.'
He wasn't exaggerating. The air was rank with the smell of cigarette smoke, mildewed plaster, and beer both new and used. Gideon shrugged out from Kendal's grip and started moving deeper into the place. 'This shouldn't take long.'
Kendal followed Gideon into the room as he walked along the shadowed wall that was farthest from the stage. The darkness was only highlighted where the black lights turned the cuffs of Kendal's shirt a fluorescing sky blue where they poked from the sleeves of his jacket.
The patrons paid no attention to them, but they were under the watchful eyes of the bouncers and of the bartender. Kendal didn't look tense, but Gideon could hear a hard urgency in his whispered voice. 'I think you need to slow down this little investigation of yours.'
'I'm in this up to my neck.' Especially after his visit to Davy's apartment. IA was already leaving him messages. Magness could smell blood in the water. 'Even if Rafe wasn't my brother—'
'You need to reconsider.'
'Why?' This wasn't going the way he had planned. Kendal was supposed to be his backup, but while he had driven Gideon here, he had spent the entire drive trying to talk Gideon out of this. Kendal seemed nervous. It didn't fit. Kendal was built like a rock, immobile and impervious to that kind of emotion. But the way he looked around the bar, the way he moved his hands, it betrayed an unease that was alien to the man. Gideon had been maneuvering toward the bar, but he stopped and lowered his voice. 'What have you found out?'
Up to now, he hadn't been forthcoming, but he finally gave him an answer of sorts.
'Very little,' Kendal finally said. 'But everyone acts as if I have the plague as soon as I bring up the subject. Even those who say they don't know anything about what's going on. You name the Agency, and they don't want to touch it.'
' I told you' Gideon whispered. 'There is something dirty going on here.' Gideon moved toward the bar, and Kendal grabbed his cast.
'This is why I didn't tell you,' Kendal said. 'You want to dive into this crap headfirst.'
Gideon shook his head. 'Are you here to help me?'
Kendal didn't let go. 'The one thing I have is a rumor that D'Arcy is interested in the investigation into the Secret Service.'
Gideon tried to pull away.
'D'Arcy, Gideon.' Kendal repeated the name as if it was a mantra that might make Gideon return to his senses.
D'Arcy was a name to conjure with, and Gideon was a D.C. native who was quite aware of who the National Security Advisor to President Ray burn was. Supposedly the Kissinger of the twenty-first century.
However, if anything, Kendal's attitude just made Gideon angry. He yanked his cast away from him. 'Back me up or get the fuck out of my way.' Anger had flattened his voice until his whisper was barely
audible under the sounds of 'Heart of Glass.'
Kendal let him go, but he followed him toward the bar, still talking. 'It's possible. D'Arcy has a reputation for black-bag ops as far back as the Reagan Administration. Cut his teeth on Central American psych-ops and end runs around Congress. You really don't want to mess with this.' When Gideon didn't respond, he asked, 'What do you think you're going to do?'
'Some police work,' Gideon said quietly as he reached the bar.
The man behind it was very dark and had dreadlocks down to his shoulders. Gideon leaned his cast on the bar and said, 'I'd like to ask you a few questions.'
The man kept cleaning the glasses behind the bar. He didn't even look up at him. 'Ain't got nothing to talk to you about, man.'
Gideon fished out his badge and laid it on the bar. 'I think you do.'
The man shook his head. 'Ain't got nothing to say to no cop.' He looked up at Gideon. 'And you ain't on duty, I seen you on the TV. Less reason to talk to you.'
'Look, I'm not here to fuck with your business. I don't care what you sell with the drinks, or what your dancers might do for an extra fifty—'
'Hey. This is a clean place. Nothing like that going on here, man.'
Yeah, right. 'Look, you just tell me about a couple of regulars and we won't have Vice down here to experiment with the forfeiture laws.'
The bartender put down his glass and leaned toward Gideon. 'And if you just walk your gimp ass out of here, my boys won't bust your fucking cop head '
Gideon felt a presence next to him and looked to the side. Bouncer number one was staring down at him from
