son； carrying a crystal wand in one hand and a live hamster in the other。 Nah： too weird。 Someone more representative。 Like that kid with the Mohawk not far away； in black。 A pimply middle…class suburban kid trying to be different。
〃Excuse me！〃 He elbowed his way toward the youth。 〃Excuse me！New York Post 。 Can I ask a few questions？〃
The kid looked toward him； eyes lighting up。 They were all so eager for their fifteen nanoseconds of fame。
〃Why are you here？〃
〃Haven't you heard？ The devil has e！〃 The kid's face positively shone。 〃Some guy up there。 He's just like the one out on Long Island。 The devil took his soul； fried him to a crisp！ Dragged him down to hell； kicking and screaming。〃
〃How'd you hear about this？〃
〃It's all over the Web。〃
〃By why areyou ； personally； here？〃
The kid looked at him as if the question was idiotic。 〃Why do you think？ To pay my respects to the Man in Red。〃
Now a group of aging hippies started to sing 〃Sympathy for the Devil〃 in cracked falsettos。 The smell of pot wafted toward him。 Harriman struggled to hear； to think； amidst the hubbub。 〃Where are you from？〃
〃Me and my buddies came over from Fort Lee。〃 Some of his 〃buddies〃 were now crowding around； all dressed exactly like he was。 〃Who's this guy？〃 one asked。
〃Reporter from thePost 。〃
〃No kidding。〃
〃Take my picture！〃
To pay my respects to the Man in Red。There was his quote。 Time to wrap it up。 〃Name？ Spell it。〃
〃Shawn O'Connor。〃
〃Age？〃
〃Fourteen。〃
Unbelievable。〃Okay； Shawn； one last question。 Why the devil？ What's so important about the devil？〃
〃He's theman ！〃 he whooped； and his friends took up the cry； high…fiving each other。 〃Theman ！〃
Harriman moved off。 God； the world was full of morons； they were breeding like rabbits； especially in New Jersey。 Now he needed a contrast； someone who took all this seriously。 A priest…he needed a priest。 Just his luck： there were two men with collars； quiet； standing not far away。
〃Excuse me！〃 he called out； forcing his way toward them through the growing crowd。 As the two turned to him； Harriman was taken aback by the expressions on their faces。 Fear； real fear； mingled with the sorrow and pain。
〃Harriman with thePost 。 May I ask what you're doing here？〃
The older of the two men stepped forward。 He had a lot of dignity； he really seemed out of place in this hysteria。 〃We're bearing witness。〃
〃Witness to what？〃
〃The last earthly days。〃 The way the man said it sent a flurry of goose bumps along Harriman's spine。
〃You really think the world's ing to an end？〃
The man quoted solemnly： 〃'Babylon the great is fallen； is fallen； and is bee the habitation of devils； and the hold of every foul spirit。'〃
The other； younger man nodded。 〃'She shall be utterly burned with fire： for strong is the Lord God who judgeth her。 And the kings of the earth； who have mitted fornication and lived deliciously with her； shall bewail her； and lament for her； when they shall see the smoke of her burning。'〃
〃'Alas； alas； that great city Babylon； that mighty city！'〃 the first priest went on。 〃'For in one hour is thy judgment e。'〃
Harriman had drawn out his pad and was scribbling to get this down； but the first priest laid a gentle hand over his。 〃Revelation； chapter 18。〃
〃Right； thanks。 What church are you from？〃
〃Our Lady of Long Island City。〃
〃Thanks。〃 Harriman got their names and backed away hastily； tucking his notebook into his pocket。 Their calmness； their certitude； spooked him more than all the hysteria around him。
There was a stirring along one edge of the crowd。 A small convoy of police cars was approaching； lights flashing。 There was a sudden eruption of flashes and television lights。 He pushed forward； brutally shoving his way through a group of soundmen： he was Harriman of thePost ； he wasn't going to sit at the back of the class。 But the crowd itself was now surging forward； desperate for news。
A woman had stepped out of an unmarked cruiser at the rear of the convoy； dressed in a suit but with a shield riding shotgun on what looked like an amazing set of knockers： a really good…looking young woman； with a bunch of men now falling into place behind her。 Young； but clearly in charge。 It looked to Harriman like she didn't want to talk to the crowd at all； but needed to take charge before things grew any uglier。
She positioned herself behind a barricade of uniformed cops and held up her hand against the clamor of the press。
〃Five minutes for questions。 Then this crowd is going to have to disband。〃
More incoherent yelling as a thicket of boom microphones was thrust forward。
She waited； surveying the crowd； while the shouting continued。 Finally she checked her watch and spoke again。 〃Four minutes。〃
That shut up the rows of press。 The rest…the party people； the witches and satanists； the weirdos with crystals or perfumes…realized something interesting was about to happen and quieted down a little as well。
〃I'm Captain Laura Hayward of NYPD Homicide。〃 She spoke in a clear but soft voice； which forced the crowd to quiet further； straining to listen。 〃The deceased is Nigel Cutforth； who died at approximately 11：15 last night。 Cause of death is unknown at this point； but homicide is suspected。〃
Tell me something new； Harriman said to himself。
〃I'll take a few questions now；〃 she said。 There was an eruption of shouting； and she pointed at one frantically waving journalist。
The questions tumbled out。 〃Have the police noted connections between this and the death of Jeremy Grove？ Are there similarities？ Differences？〃
A wry smile appeared on her lips。 〃We have。 Yes and yes。 Next？〃
〃Any suspects？〃
〃Not at this point。〃
〃Was there a burned hoofprint or any other sign of the devil？〃
〃No hoofprint。〃
〃We heard there was a face scorched into the wall？〃
The smile left the woman's face briefly。 〃It was an irregular blotch that suggested a face to some。〃
〃What kind of face？〃
The wry smile。 〃Those who've claimed to see the face have labeled it ugly。〃
This caused a renewed clamor。
〃Is it the face of the devil？ Horns？ Did it have horns？〃 These questions were shouted simultaneously by a dozen people。 The mikes boomed in closer； knocking against each other。
〃Not having seen the devil；〃 Hayward answered； 〃I can't say。 There were no horns I'm aware of。〃
Harriman scribbled frantically in his notebook。 A bunch of reporters were now asking if she thought it was the devil； but she was ignoring this。 Oh my God； was that Geraldo shouting over there？ He definitely should've been here last night。
〃Was it the devil？ What's your opinion？〃 was cried from several quarters at once。
She held up a hand。 〃I'd like to answer that question。〃
That really shut them up。
〃We have enough flesh…and…blood devils in this town； thank you； that we don't need to conjure up any supernatural ones。〃
〃So how did he die？〃 a reporter shouted。 〃What were the injuries caused by？ Was he cooked； like the other one？〃
〃An autopsy is currently under way。 We'll be able to tell you more when it's pleted。〃 She was talking calmly and rationally； but Harriman wasn't fooled。 The NYPD didn't even begin to have a handle on the case…and he'd be saying as much in his story。
〃Thank you；〃 she was saying； 〃and good afternoon。 Now； let's break it up； people。〃
More clamor。 More police were arriving and working to control the crowd at last； pushing them back； setting up barricades； directing traffic。
Harriman turned away； already writing the lead in his head。 This was one hell of a story。 At last…at long； long last…he was going to get a run for his money。
23
As the vintage Rolls…Royce approached the gates of the EastCove Yacht Harbor； D'Agosta shifted in the backseat； staring out the window； trying to forget just how stiff and sore he felt。 What with Cutforth's murder and all the attendant crime…scene business； he couldn't have gotten more than two hours' sleep。
For this particular errand； Pendergast had left his chauffeur； Proctor； behind； preferring to drive the big car himself。 It was a beautiful fall day； and the morning sun shimmered on the bay like silver coins tossed on the waves。 The Staten Island ferry was lumbering out of its berth； churning the water behind； flags snapping； trailed by a screaming flock of seagulls。 The blue hump of Staten Island rose on the horizon； grading imperceptibly into the low outline of New Jersey。 The smell of salt air flowed in the open windows。
D'Agosta turned his gaze toward the marina。 A wall kept the gaze of the vulgar from the ranks of gleaming yachts； but from the top of Coenties Slip you could still see them lined up in their berths； splendid and sparkling in the bright sun。
〃You're never going to get in without a warrant；〃 said D'Agosta。 〃I talked to Bullard。 I know what the guy's like。〃
〃We shall see；〃 said Pendergast。 〃I always prefer to start with a gentle approach。〃
〃And if the gentle approach doesn't work？〃
〃Firmer measures might be in order。〃
D'Agosta wondered what Pendergast's idea of 〃firmer〃 was。
Pendergast slowed the Rolls and； turning to a custom…built cherrywood