Free Gideon's Corpse by Douglas Preston Page A

keep your financial affairs in order. He started getting warnings, and his clearance was downgraded. They moved him into another position with less responsibility.”
    “How’d he take it?”
    “Badly. He was kind of a lost soul. Not a strong sense of self, a dependent personality type, going through the motions of life without knowing what he really wanted. He started to cling to me, in a way. Wanted to be my friend. I tried to keep him at a distance, but it was difficult. We had lunch together a couple of times, and on occasion he joined me after work for a drink with co-workers.”
    Fordyce was now at one twenty. The car rocked back and forth, the sound of the engine and the rush of air almost drowning out the music. “Hobbies? Interests?”
    “He talked a lot about wanting to be a writer. Nothing else that I can think of.”
    “Ever write anything?”
    “Not that I know of.”
    “His religious views? I mean, prior to his conversion.”
    “I never knew of any.”
    “How did he convert?”
    “He told me about it once. He rented a powerboat and went out on Abiquiu Lake, north of Los Alamos. I sort of got the impression he was depressed and considering suicide. Anyway, he somehow fell out or jumped out of the boat and found himself drifting away, his heavy clothes dragging him down. He went under a few times. But then, just as he was about to go under for the last time, he says he felt strong arms pulling him out. And he heard a voice in his head. In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful , I think those were the words.”
    “I believe that’s the first line of the Qur’an.”
    “He managed to climb back into the boat, which he said had suddenly drifted back toward him as if blown by an unseen wind. It was, in his view, a miracle. As he was driving home, he passed the Al-Dahab Mosque, which is a few miles from Abiquiu Lake. It was a Friday and services were being held. He stopped on a whim, got out, and went into the mosque, where he was welcomed very warmly by the Muslims. He experienced a powerful conversion right on the spot.”
    “That’s quite a story.”
    Gideon nodded. “He gave away his stuff and started living a very ascetic life. He would pray five times a day. But he did it quietly, he was never in your face about it.”
    “Gave away what stuff?”
    “Fancy clothes, books, liquor, stereo equipment, CDs and DVDs.”
    “Did he evince any other changes?”
    “The conversion seemed to do him a world of good. He became a much more adjusted person. Better at work, more focused, no longer depressed. It was a relief to me—he stopped clinging. He really seemed to have found some sort of meaning in his life.”
    “Did he ever try to convert you, proselytize?”
    “Never.”
    “Any problems with his security clearance after he became a Muslim?”
    “No. Your religion isn’t supposed to have anything to do with your security clearance. He continued on as before. He’d already lost his top clearance, anyway.”
    “Any signs of radicalism?”
    “The guy was apolitical, as far as I could tell. No talk of oppression, no tirades against the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. He shied away from controversy.”
    “That’s typical. Don’t draw attention to your views.”
    Gideon shrugged. “If you say so.”
    “What about the disappearance?”
    “Very sudden. He just vanished. Nobody knew where he’d gone.”
    “Any changes just before that point?”
    “None that I could see.”
    “He really fits the pattern,” murmured Fordyce, shaking his head. “It’s almost textbook.”
    They came over the rise of La Bajada and Santa Fe lay spread out before them, nestled at the base of the Sangre de Cristo Mountains.
    “So that’s it?” said Fordyce, squinting. “I thought it would be bigger.”
    “It’s too big already,” said Gideon. “So what’s the next step?”
    “A triple espresso. Piping hot.”
    Gideon shuddered. He was an inveterate coffee drinker himself, but Fordyce was