"What is this man doing here?" asked Jack in a whisper.
"I'm not altogether sure," said Doyle.
"There, there, Major," said Innes. "Not as bad as all that, is it?"
"Reduced to promoting weightlifters and bearded ladies in a traveling freak show," said Pepperman, burbling through his sobs, dropping slowly to his knees and pounding his fists on the floor.
"Get rid of him, can't you?" asked Jack.
"He's very upset," said Doyle.
"I can see that," said Jack.
Walks Alone moved to the collapsed giant and took him by the hand; he looked up at her like a six-year-old mourning a dead puppy. She made a low soothing, murmuring sound, stroked his neck a few times, and Pepperman's sobbing slowly subsided. As he relaxed, she placed a hand on his forehead and whispered a few quiet words in his ear. Pepperman's eyes closed, his body slumped over to one side, and he was asleep before his head hit the floor. Loud snuffling snores ratcheted out of him, dead to the world.
"I've seen that done to snakes before," said Presto, in amazement, "but never to a human being."
"He should sleep now for a long time," said Walks Alone.
"What should we do with him?" said Innes.
"Drag him out to the hall," said Jack.
"The poor chap hasn't done anything wrong," said Doyle. "Let's put him on the bed."
It required all six of them to lift and carry Pepperman into the bedroom. Doyle threw a blanket on him, closed the door, and returned to the sitting room. Jack and Presto brought the others quickly up-to-date on the events at the synagogue; the men in black, their attempt to authenticate the book, the murder of Rabbi Brachman.
Never would have happened with the old Jack, Doyle couldn't help thinking: He would have anticipated their intentions, somehow prevented it.
"The same as the men on the Elbe, down to the mark on the left arm," said Jack. "It's a brand, burned into their skin, like cattle."
"The smell of burning flesh in that office tonight," said Walks Alone.
"Could have been some sort of initiation," said Presto.
"Let's attempt a summing up, then," said Doyle, trying to impose order.
Jack laid out two pieces of paper. "Before he died, Brachman concealed the information we asked for in his desk lamp, which Innes succeeded in finding."
"Nothing, really," said Innes modestly.
"This program lists the names of every clergyman who attended the Parliament of Religions. Brachman circled one name, a charismatic evangelist, an American: Reverend A. Glorious Day."
"A. Glorious Day?" said Doyle, a lump forming in his throat. " 'A,' as in Alexander."
"The preacher we saw in Edison's photos," said Jack.
"Who is this man?" asked Walks Alone.
"My brother," said Jack bitterly.
Doyle and Walks Alone exchanged a look: This is the source of his sickness. She seemed to understand.
"So we know Alexander was here in Chicago and we know the name he's using," said Doyle. "Can we establish any connection to the theft of the holy books?"
"The second piece Brachman left is this note, written moments before he died," said Jack, handing the note to Doyle.
Doyle read it aloud. " 'Mr. Sparks: I am able to recall meeting Reverend Day only once during the congress. Many scholarly seminars were held during the week of the Parliament; I presented a paper at one of these meetings, on the significance of sacred texts in the establishment of world religions. The Reverend Day came up to me afterwards, fervently interested, and asked a number of questions about these sacred books... .' The note ends here, abruptly."
"A sizable ink blot; he held his pen in place on the paper," said Jack.
"Because he heard someone moving outside his room," said Presto.
"So Alexander's interest in the books was born here, at the Parliament of Religions, while passing himself off as a preacher," said Doyle.
Jack nodded. "The first theft occurred six months later."
"The Upanishads, taken from the temple in India," said Presto.
"Then a month afterwards, the Vulgate Bible from Oxford," said Jack.
"And the Tikkunei, in Chicago, only weeks ago," said Stern.
"A trail that I'm confident would mirror the travels of this German collector," said Jack.
"Who, I think we can say with some confidence, is in the employ of your brother; during those first months after the Parliament he made contact with the Hanseatic League and commissioned the thefts," said Doyle.
"Exactly," said Jack.
"How would he have known about the League?" asked Stern.
"During his years in England, Alexander established knowledge of and contact with criminal organizations all over the world," said Doyle. "To conclude the League was among them is far from difficult."
"But why?" asked Innes. "Why does your brother want these books?"
Silence.
"That's a very good question, Innes," said Doyle.
"Thank you, Arthur."
"We can't answer that yet," said Jack, sitting apart from them.
"He hasn't attempted to ransom them, we know that much," said Presto.
"Perhaps he's searching them for... mystical information," said Stern.
"Hidden secrets," said Doyle. "Like the Kabbalah supposedly contains."
"Like that bit about how to build a golem," said Innes.
"Possibly," said Doyle.
"Stay away from that sort of speculation," said Jack sharply.
Silence again.
"Do we know where your brother is now?" asked Walks Alone.
"We know a telegraph line ran out of their office," said Presto. "Presumably that was their method of communication."
"Any way to trace the line?" said Doyle.
"Not now," said Jack.
"They would have used some sort of code," said Doyle. "And by now whatever link existed between them has surely been destroyed."
"The tower," said Walks Alone, with a flash of clarity. "That's where he is."
The thought startled everyone in the room, but no one quite grasped her point yet.
"The man in the dream, the one who looks like you," said Walks Alone to Jack. "Your brother; he was in Chicago; he saw the Water Tower, just as your father did before he made that drawing," she said to Stern.
"Good God," said Stern. "Maybe they met each other here; my father and Alexander; they could have, couldn't they?"
"Possibly. Go on," said Doyle.
"What if your brother is building this tower?" Walks Alone asked. "Patterned in some way on the one he saw here."
"Schwarzkirk, the Black Church," said Presto. "It falls together."
"Somewhere out west," said Walks Alone. "In the desert we have seen in the dream."
"Maybe that's where my father's gone," said Stern, excitement rising.
"You're suggesting this black tower you've all seen is an actual place, not just a symbol from the dream," said Doyle.
"Yes," said Walks Alone.
"Why couldn't it be?" asked Presto, excited by the idea.
"I don't know; I suppose it could," Doyle admitted.
"And if it is, how hard could it be to find a building of such size and singular design?" asked Presto.
"Not hard at all," said Doyle. "We'll wire rock quarries and masonries in every western city."
"He'd need a huge number of skilled workers," said Presto.
"And an enormous pile of money," said Stern.
"Supply houses, construction outfitters ..." added Presto.
"And newspapers; there'd be stories about such an unusual project," said Doyle. "Innes, make a list; we'll go to the telegraph office and start sending inquiries."
Innes took a sheet of stationery from the desk and began writing.
Doyle glanced over at Jack, sitting alone, staring at the floor, the only one not participating. "Can any of you remember more details from the dream that might tell us where the tower is?"
Jack did not acknowledge the question.