'The army's on alert in the territories-Marciano's in charge in Judea; Yinon in Samaria, Barbash in Gaza. The Border Patrol's conducting individual searches at the Allenby Bridge and Metulla, tightening things up along all perimeters and within the Old City. They're also staking out forested areas and are stationed near the murder cave. Telescopic surveillance of the Amelia Catherine has been expanded to another infrared from the desert aimed at the rear of the compound.'
He unfolded several sheets of paper. 'These are the home numbers of records clerks and their bosses at the phone company, the Licensing Office, the Ministry of Construction and Housing, the Ministry of Energy, all the banks. We'll divide them up, start waking people, try and find the home away from home. Look for Carters and Terrifs- include all spelling variations. Now that we know who he is, he won't be able to get far.'
But to himself he thought: Why should catching a madman be easier than finding my own dog.
He worked until six, setting up and monitoring the search for Richard Carter, before allowing himself a cup of coffee which his dry throat and aching stomach rejected. At six-ten he went back to his office and pulled out the notes he'd taken during his first and only meeting with Carter. Read them for the twentieth time and watched Carter's face materialize before his mind's eye.
An unremarkable face, no monster, no devil. In the end it was always like that. Eichmanns, Landrus, Kurtens, and Barbies. Disappointingly human, depressingly mundane.
Amira Nasser had supposedly talked about mad eyes, empty eyes. A killer's grin. All he remembered about Carter's eyes were that they were narrow and gray. Gray eyes behind old-fashioned round eyeglasses. A full ginger beard. The shambling, careless carriage of a backpacker.
Former hippie. A dreamer.
Some dreams: a nightmare machine.
He forced coffee down his throat and recalled something else-incongruous chuckling in response to his questions.
Something amusing. Dr. Carter?
Big fingers running through the beard. A smile-if there had been something evil about the smile, it had eluded him.
Not really. Just that this sounds like one of those cop shows back home-where were you on the night and all that.
The bastard had seemed so casual, so relaxed.
Daniel punished himself with self-scrutiny. Had he been careless, missed something? A psychopathic glint in the gray eyes? Some near-microscopic evidence of evil that he, as a detective, was expected to pick up on?
He replayed the mental movie of the interview. Reviewed his notes again. Questions, answers, the smiles.
Where were you on the night and all that.
And where are you tonight, Richard Carter, you murderous scum?
At seven A.M. Shmeltzer brought him a list of names gleaned from phone books, utility bills, and housing files. Two Carters in Jerusalem, five in Tel Aviv, including a senior officer at the American Embassy. One in Haifa, three more scattered throughout the Galilee. No Richards. Three Trifs, four Trif-uses, none of them Richards or initial D's. No Tarrifs or Terrifs. All old listings. He dispatched men to check out the local ones anyway, had the other divisions do the same with the people in their bailiwicks.
At seven-twenty he called home. Laura answered. He heard the boys hollering in the background, music from the radio.
'Good morning, Detective.'
'Hello, Laura.'
'That bad?'
'Yes.'
'Want to talk about it?'
'No.'
Pause. 'Okay.'
He felt impatient with her, intolerant of any problem short of life and death. Still, she was his lover, his best friend, deserved better than to be dismissed like a subordinate. He tried to soften his voice, said, 'I'm sorry. I really can't get into it.'
'I understand,' she said. Automatically.
'I don't know when I'll be home.'
'Don't worry. Do what you have to do. I'll be busy all morning with straightening up and finishing the painting for Lu and Gene. After school, Lu and I are taking the boys to the zoo, then to dinner. Shoshi didn't want to go. She's sleeping over at Dorit Shamgar's house-the number's on the refrigerator.'
Daniel thought of Mikey and Benny frolicking at the zoo, remembered what Laufer had said about the schematics found in the house on Ibn Haldoun. Horrific bomb-blast visions filled his head. He chased them away-a steady diet of those kinds of thoughts could drive a man crazy.
'Why didn't she want to go to the zoo?' he asked.
'It's for babies; she and Dorit have more important things to do-she wants to be on her own, Daniel. Part of establishing her identity.'
'It's not because she's still upset over the dog?'
'Maybe a little of that too. But she'll work it through- Here's Gene. He worked most of the night, refuses to
