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for processing.

Crawford had watched the films twelve times beforeBirminghamcalled back. He took the message.

Curiously formal, he held out his hand to Graham. "It's Gateway," he said.

Chapter 43

Crawford was stirring an Alka-Seltzer in a plastic glass when the stewardess's voice came over the 727'S public-address system.

"Passenger Crawford, please?"

When he waved from his aisle seat, she came aft to him. "Mr. Crawford, would you go to the cockpit, please?"

Crawford was gone for four minutes. He slid back into the seat beside Graham.

"Tooth Fairy was inNew Yorktoday."

Graham winced and his teeth clicked together.

"No. He just tapped a couple of women on the head at theBrooklynMuseumand, listen to this, he ate a painting."

"Ate it?"

"Ate it. The Art Squad inNew Yorksnapped to it when they found out what he ate. They got two partial prints off the plastic pass he used and they flashed them down to Price a little while ago. When Price put 'em together on the screen, he rang the cherries. No ID, but it's the same thumb that was on theLeedskid's eye."

"New York," Graham said.

"Means nothing, he was inNew Yorktoday. He could still work at Gateway. If he does, he was off the job today. Makes it easier."

"What did he eat?"

"It was a thing called The Great Red Dragon and the Woman Clothed with the Sun . William Blake drew it, they said."

"What about the women?"

"He's got a sweet touch with the sap. Younger one's just at the hospital for observation. The older one had to have four stitches. Mild concussion."

"Could they give a description?"

"The younger one did. Quiet, husky, dark mustache and hair - a wig, I think. The guard at the door said the same thing. The older woman - he could've been in a rabbit suit for all she saw.

"But he didn't kill anybody."

"Odd," Crawford said. "He'd have been better off to wax 'em both - he could have been sure of his lead time leaving and saved himself a description or two. Behavioral Science called Bloom in the hospital about it. You know what he said? Bloom said maybe he's trying to stop."

Chapter 44

Dolarhyde heard the flaps moan down. The Tights of St. Louis wheeled slowly beneath the black wing. Under his feet the landing gear rumbled into a rush of air and locked down with a thud.

He rolled his head on his shoulders to ease the stiffness in his powerful neck.

Coming home.

He had taken a great risk, and the prize he brought back was the power to choose. He could choose to have Reba McCIane alive. He could have her to talk to, and he could have her startling and harmless mobility in his bed.

He did not have to dread his house. He had the Dragon in his belly now. He could go into his house, walk up to a copy Dragon on the wall and wad him up if be wanted to.

He did not have to worry about feeling Love for Reba. If he felt Love for her, he could toss theShermansto the Dragon and ease it that way, go back to Reba calm and easy, and treat her well.

From the terminal Dolarhyde telephoned her apartment. Not home yet. He tried Baeder Chemical. The night line was busy. He thought of Reba walking toward the bus stop after work, tapping along with her cane, her raincoat over her shoulders.

He drove to the film laboratory through the light evening traffic in less than fifteen minutes.

She wasn't at the bus stop. He parked on the street behind Baeder Chemical, near the entrance closest to the darkrooms. He'd tell her he was here, wait until she had finished working, and drive her home. He was proud of his new power to choose. He wanted to use it.

There were things he could catch up on in his office while he waited.

Only a few lights were on in Baeder Chemical.

Reba's darkroom was locked. The light above the door was neither red nor green. It was off. He pressed the buzzer. No response.

Maybe she had left a message in his office.

He heard footsteps in the corridor.

The Baeder supervisor, Dandridge, passed the darkroom area and never looked up. He was walking fast and carrying a thick bundle of buff personnel files under his arm.

A small crease appeared in Dolarhyde's forehead.

Dandridge was halfway across the parking lot, heading for the Gateway building, when Dolarhyde came out of Baeder behind him.

Two delivery vans and half a dozen cars were on the lot. That Buick belonged to Fisk, Gateway's personnel director. What were