what looked like a strange volcano of some kind. There were other intricate models, including one of a ship packed with mysterious-looking ROVs, scientific equipment, and military hardware.
A voice sounded from the shadows. 'Welcome.'
D'Agosta turned into the dimness and saw a figure in a wheelchair approaching between two rows of long tables: a man with closely cropped brown hair and thin lips set above a square jaw. He wore an unassuming but well-cut suit and controlled the wheelchair with a small joystick operated by a black-gloved hand. D'Agosta realized that one of the man's eyes must be glass, because it conveyed none of the fierce gleam of its mate. A purple scar ran down the right side of his face, from hairline to jaw, giving the illusion of a dueling wound.
'I am Eli Glinn,' he said, his voice low, mild, and neutral. 'You must be Lieutenant D'Agosta and Special Agent Pendergast.' He stopped the wheelchair and extended his hand. 'Welcome to Effective Engineering Solutions.'
They followed him back between the tables and past a small greenhouse, its grow-lamps flickering eerily, then got into an elevator cage that took them up to a fourth-floor catwalk. As he followed the wheelchair down the catwalk, D'Agosta felt a twinge of doubt. Effective Engineering Solutions? Mr.-not Dr.-Eli Glinn? He wondered if, despite her vaunted research skills, Constance Greene had made a mistake. This didn't look like any forensic profiling consultant he had ever seen before-and he had dealt with quite a few.
Glinn glanced back, ran his good eye over D'Agosta's uniform. 'You might as well turn off your radio and cell phone, Lieutenant. We block all wireless signals and radio frequencies in this building.'
He led the way into a small conference room decorated in polished wood, dosed the door, then gestured for them to be seated. He wheeled himself to the far side of the lone table, where a gap between the charcoal- colored Herman Miller chairs was clearly reserved for him. A thin envelope lay on the table before him; otherwise, the spotless table was empty. Leaning back in the wheelchair, he fixed them both with a penetrating gaze.
'Yours is an unusual request,' he said.
'Mine is an unusual problem,' Pendergast replied.
Glinn eyed him up and down. 'That is a rather effective disguise, Mr. Pendergast.'
'Indeed.'
Glinn folded his hands. 'Tell me the nature of your problem.'
Pendergast glanced around. 'Tell me the nature of your company. I ask because all this'-he gestured-'does not look like the office of a forensic profiler.'
A slow, mirthless smile stretched the features of the man's face, distorting and inflaming the scar. 'A fair question. Effective Engineering Solutions is in the business of solving unique engineering problems and performing failure analysis.'
'What kind of engineering problems?' Pendergast asked.
'How to neutralize an underground nuclear reactor in a certain rogue Middle Eastern state being used to produce weapons-grade fuel. The analysis of the mysterious and sudden loss of a billion-dollar classified satellite.' He twitched a finger, a small gesture that carried surprising weight, so motionless had the man been up to that point. 'You'll understand if I don't go into details. You see, Mr. Pendergast, 'failure analysis' is the other side of the engineering coin: it is the art of understanding how things fail, and thus preventing failure before it happens. Or finding out why failure occurred
D'Agosta spoke. 'I still don't get it. What does failure analysis have to do with forensic profiling?'
'I'm getting to that, Lieutenant. Failure analysis begins and ends with psychological profiling. EES realized long ago that the key to understanding failure was understanding exactly how human beings make mistakes. Which is the same as understanding how human beings make decisions in general. We needed
Pendergast inclined his head. 'Most interesting. How is it I have never heard of you?'
'We do not generally wish to be known-beyond, that is, a small circle of clients.'
'Before we begin, I must be assured of discretion.'
'Mr. Pendergast, EES makes two guarantees. First, utter discretion. Second, guaranteed success. Now, please tell me your problem.'
'The target is a man named Diogenes Pendergast-my brother. He disappeared over two decades ago, after contriving to stage his own false death. He seems to have vanished off the face of the earth-at least officially. He's not in any government databases, beyond a death certificate which I know to be forged. There are no adult records of him at all. No address, no photos, nothing.' He removed a thick manila folder from his coat and placed it on the table. 'Everything I know is in here.'
'How do you know he's still alive?'
'We had a curious encounter last summer. It's in the report. That, and the fact he has turned into a serial killer.'
Glinn gave a slow nod.
'From a young age, Diogenes hated me, and he's made it his life's work to destroy me. On January 19 of this year, he finally put his plan into action. He has begun murdering my friends and associates, one by one, and taunting me with my inability to save them. He's killed four so far. For the last two, he's mocked me with notes ahead of time, naming the victim-the first time correctly, and the second time as a ruse to make me protect the wrong person. In short, I have utterly failed to stop him. He claims to be targeting Lieutenant D'Agosta here next. Again, the summaries of the homicides are in that folder.'
D'Agosta saw Glinn's good eye gleam with new interest. 'How intelligent is this Diogenes?'
'As a child, his I.Q. was tested at 210. That was, incidentally, after he had scarlet fever, which altered him permanently.'
Glinn raised an eyebrow. 'Are we dealing with organic brain damage?'
'Not likely. He was strange before the fever. The illness seems to have focused it, brought it to the fore.'
'And this is why you need me. You need a complete psychological, criminal, and behavioral analysis of this man. Naturally, because you are his brother, you are too close to him-you cannot do it yourself.'
'Correct. Diogenes has had years to plan this. He's been three steps ahead of me all the way. He leaves no clues at his crime scenes-none that are unintentional at least. The only way to stop him is to anticipate what he'll do next. I must stress this is an emergency situation. Diogenes has threatened to complete his crime tomorrow, January 28. He named this day as the culmination of all his planning. There is no telling how many more lives are in jeopardy.'
Glinn opened the folder with his good hand and began leafing through it, scanning the pages. 'I cannot produce a profile in twenty-four hours.'
'You
'It's impossible. The earliest I can do it-assuming I drop all other work and focus solely on this-is seventy-two hours from now. You have come to me too late, Mr. Pendergast. At least too late for the date your brother named. Not too late, perhaps, to take effective action afterwards.' He gave his head a curious tilt as he eyed Pendergast.
The agent was very still for a moment. 'So be it, then,' he said in a low voice.
'Let's not waste any more time.' Glinn put a hand on the folder before him and slid it across the table. 'Here is our standard contract. My fee is one million dollars.'
D'Agosta rose from his chair. 'A million bucks? Are you crazy!'
Pendergast stilled him with a wave of his hand. 'Accepted.' He took the folder, opened it, scanned the contract rapidly.
'At the back,' said Glinn, 'you'll find our standard disclaimers and warranties. We offer an absolute, unconditional guarantee of success.'
'This is the second time you've mentioned that curious guarantee. How do you define 'success,' Mr. Glinn?'
Another ghostly smile lingered on Glinn's face. 'Naturally, we cannot guarantee that you will apprehend Diogenes. Nor can we guarantee to stop him from killing. That lies in your hands. Here's what we do guarantee. First: we will give you a forensic profile of Diogenes Pendergast that will accurately elucidate his motive.'
