Red Dragon Page 0,85
They did not fit his distorted gums and his jaw cramped quickly.
He worked on his jaw in private moments, biting on a hard rubber block until the muscles stood out in his cheeks like walnuts.
In the fall of 1979, Francis Dolarhyde withdrew part of his considerable savings and took a three-month leave of absence from Gateway. He went toHong Kongand he took with him his grandmother's teeth.
When he returned, red-haired Eileen and his other fellow workers agreed that the vacation had done him good. He was calm. They hardly noticed that he never used the employees' locker room or shower anymore - he had never done that often anyway.
His grandmother's teeth were back in the glass beside her bed. His own new ones were locked in his desk upstairs.
If Eileen could have seen him before his mirror, teeth in place, new tattoo brilliant in the harsh gym light, she would have screamed. Once.
There was time now; he did not have to hurry now. He had forever. It was five months before he selected the Jacobis.
The Jacobis were the first to help him, the first to lift him into the Glory of his Becoming. The Jacobis were better than anything, better than anything he ever knew.
Until the Leedses.
And now, as he grew in strength and Glory, there were theShermansto come and the new intimacy of infrared. Most promising.
Chapter 29
Francis Dolarhyde had to leave his own territory at Gateway Film Processing to get what he needed.
Dolarhyde was production chief of Gateway's largest division - home-movie processing - but there were four other divisions.
The recessions of the 1970's cut deeply into home moviemaking, and there was increasing competition from home video recorders. Gateway had to diversify.
The company added departments which transferred film to video-tape, printed aerial survey maps, and offered custom services to small-format commercial filmmakers.
In 1979 a plum fell to Gateway. The company contracted jointly with the Department of Defense and the Department of Energy to develop and test new emulsions for infrared photography.
The Department of Energy wanted sensitive infrared film for its heat-conservation studies. Defense wanted it for night reconnaissance.
Gateway bought a small company next door, Baeder Chemical, in late 1979 and set up the project there.
Dolarhyde walked across to Baeder on his lunch hour under a scrubbed blue sky, carefully avoiding the reflecting puddles on the asphalt, Lounds's death had put him in an excellent humor.
Everyone at Baeder seemed to be out for lunch.
He found the door he wanted at the end of a labyrinth of halls. The sign beside the door said "Infrared Sensitive Materials in Use. NO Safelights, NO Smoking, NO hot beverages." The red light was on above the sign.
Dolarhyde pushed a button and, in a moment, the light turned green. He entered the light trap and rapped on the inner door.
"Come." A woman's voice. Cool, absolute darkness. The gurgle of water, the familiar smell of D-76 developer, and a trace of perfume.
"I'm Francis Dolarhyde. I came about the dryer."
"Oh, good. Excuse me, my mouth's full. I was just finishing lunch."
He heard papers wadded and dropped in a wastebasket.
"Actually,Fergusonwanted the dryer," said the voice in the dark.
"He's on vacation, but I know where it goes. You have one over at Gateway?"
"I have two. One is larger. He didn't say how much room he has." Dolarhyde had seen a memo about the dryer problem weeks ago.
"I'll show you, if you don't mind a short wait."
"All right."
"Put your back against the door" - her voice took on a touch of the lecturer's practiced tone - "come forward three steps, until you feel the tile under your feet, and there'll be a stool just to your left."
He found it. He was closer to her now. He could hear the rustle of her lab apron.
"Thanks for coming down," she said. Her voice was clear, with a faint ring of iron in it. "You're head of processing over in the big building, right?"
"Um-humm."
"The same 'Mr. D.' who sends the rockets when the requisitions are filed wrong?"
"The very one."
"I'm Reba McClane. Hope there's nothing wrong over here."
"Not my project anymore. I just planned the darkroom construction when we bought this place. I haven't been over here in six months." A long speech for him, easier in the dark.
"Just a minute more and we'll get you some light. Do you need a tape measure?"
"I have one." Dolarhyde found it rather pleasant, talking to the woman in the dark. He heard the rattle of a purse being rummaged, the click of a compact.
He was