Fever Dream

'Hold on, now. We been here a dozen years--'

'Just why do you think the audit was ordered?' Pendergast said, still waving the sheets of paper in the man's sweaty face. 'There've been irregularities. Allegations of corruption.'

'Hey, I'm not the guy you need to talk to about that. The franchise office handles--'

'You're the guy who's here now.' Pendergast leaned forward. 'We need to get down into that basement and see just how bad the situation is.' Pendergast stuffed the papers back into the pocket of his shirt. 'And I mean now.'

'You want to see the basement? Be my guest,' the manager said, sweating profusely. 'It ain't my fault if there's a problem. I just work here.'

'Very well. Let's get going.'

'Joanie here will take you down while Mary Kate attends to the customers--'

'Oh, no,' Pendergast interrupted again. 'Oh, no, no, no. No customers. Not until we're done.'

'No customers?' the man repeated. 'I'm trying to run a doughnut shop here.'

Pendergast bent closer now. 'This is a dangerous, maybe life-threatening situation. Our analysis shows the building is unsound. You are required to close your doors to the public until we have completed our check of the foundation and the load-bearing members.'

'I don't know,' the manager said, his frown deepening. 'I'm gonna have to call the main office. We've never closed during business hours before, and my franchise contract states--'

'You don't know? We aren't going to waste time while you call up every Tom, Dick, and Harry you've a mind to.' Pendergast leaned in even closer. 'Why, exactly, are you stalling? Do you know what would happen if the floor collapsed under a customer while he was eating a box of--' here Pendergast paused to glance at the menu posted above the counter, '--chocolate-banana double-cream glazed FatOnes?'

Silently, the man shook his head.

'You'd be charged. Personally. Criminal negligence. Manslaughter in the second degree. Maybe even... in the first degree.'

The manager took a step backward. He gulped for air, fresh sweat popping on his brow.

Pendergast let a strained silence build. 'Tell you what I'll do,' he said with sudden magnanimity. 'While you put up the CLOSED sign, Mr. Steele and I will make a quick visual inspection downstairs. If the situation is less grave than we've been led to believe, business can resume while we complete our site report.'

The man's face broke out in unexpected relief. He turned to his employees. 'Mary Kate, we're closing up for a few minutes. Joanie, show these men to the basement.'

Pendergast and D'Agosta followed Joanie through the kitchen, past a pantry and restroom, to an unmarked door. Beyond, a steep concrete stairway led down into darkness. The girl switched on the light, revealing a graveyard of old equipment--professional stand mixers and industrial-strength deep-fat fryers, apparently all awaiting repair. The basement itself was clearly very old, with facing walls of undressed stone, roughly mortared. The other two walls were made of brick. These, though apparently even older, were much more carefully fitted together. A number of plastic garbage bins lined the floor by the stairway, and untidy heaps of tarps and plastic sheeting lay, apparently forgotten, in a corner.

Pendergast turned. 'Thank you, Joanie. We'll work alone. Please shut the door on your way out.'

The girl nodded and retreated up the stairs.

Pendergast walked over to one of the brick walls. 'Vincent,' he said, resuming his usual voice, 'unless I am much mistaken, about twelve feet beyond this lies another wall: that of Arne Torgensson's basement. And in between we should find a section of the old aqueduct, in which, perhaps, the good doctor has hidden something.'

D'Agosta dropped the tool sack on the ground with a thump. 'I figure we got two minutes, tops, before that jackass upstairs calls his boss and the shit hits the fan.'

'You employ such colorful expressions,' Pendergast murmured, examining the brick wall with his loupe and rapping on it with a ball-peen hammer. 'However, I think I can buy us some more time.'

'Oh, yeah? How?'

'I'm afraid I must inform our managerial friend that the situation is even more dire than we first thought. Not only must the shop be closed to customers--the workers themselves must vacate the premises until we complete our inspection.'

Pendergast's light tread up the stairs receded quickly into silence. D'Agosta waited in the cool, dry darkness. After a moment an irruption of noise sounded from above: a protest, raised voices. Almost as quickly as it started, the noise ceased. Pendergast reappeared on the landing. Carefully closing and locking the door behind him, he descended the stairs and walked over to the bag of tools. Reaching into it, he pulled out a short-handled sledgehammer and handed it to D'Agosta.

'Vincent,' he said with a ghost of a smile, 'I yield the floor to you.'

36

AS D'AGOSTA HEFTED THE SLEDGEHAMMER, PENDERGAST bent close to the ancient wall, rapping first on one stone, then another, all the while listening intently. The light was dim, and D'Agosta had to squint to see. After a few moments, the FBI agent gave a low grunt of satisfaction and straightened up.

'Here,' he said, pointing to a brick near the middle of the wall.

D'Agosta came over, gave the sledgehammer a practice swing like a batter on deck.

'I've bought us five minutes,' Pendergast said. 'Ten at most. By then our managerial friend will undoubtedly be back. And this time he may bring company.'