Pendergast inclined his head. "Most interesting. How is it I have never heard of you?"

"We do not generally wish to be known-beyond, that is, a small circle of clients."

"Before we begin, I must be assured of discretion."

"Mr. Pendergast, EES makes two guarantees. First, utter discretion. Second, guaranteed success. Now, please tell me your problem."

"The target is a man named Diogenes Pendergast-my brother. He disappeared over two decades ago, after contriving to stage his own false death. He seems to have vanished off the face of the earth-at least officially. He's not in any government databases, beyond a death certificate which I know to be forged. There are no adult records of him at all. No address, no photos, nothing." He removed a thick manila folder from his coat and placed it on the table. "Everything I know is in here."

"How do you know he's still alive?"

"We had a curious encounter last summer. It's in the report. That, and the fact he has turned into a serial killer."

Glinn gave a slow nod.

"From a young age, Diogenes hated me, and he's made it his life's work to destroy me. On January 19 of this year, he finally put his plan into action. He has begun murdering my friends and associates, one by one, and taunting me with my inability to save them. He's killed four so far. For the last two, he's mocked me with notes ahead of time, naming the victim-the first time correctly, and the second time as a ruse to make me protect the wrong person. In short, I have utterly failed to stop him. He claims to be targeting Lieutenant D'Agosta here next. Again, the summaries of the homicides are in that folder."

D'Agosta saw Glinn's good eye gleam with new interest. "How intelligent is this Diogenes?"

"As a child, his I.Q. was tested at 210. That was, incidentally, after he had scarlet fever, which altered him permanently."

Glinn raised an eyebrow. "Are we dealing with organic brain damage?"

"Not likely. He was strange before the fever. The illness seems to have focused it, brought it to the fore."

"And this is why you need me. You need a complete psychological, criminal, and behavioral analysis of this man. Naturally, because you are his brother, you are too close to him-you cannot do it yourself."

"Correct. Diogenes has had years to plan this. He's been three steps ahead of me all the way. He leaves no clues at his crime scenes-none that are unintentional at least. The only way to stop him is to anticipate what he'll do next. I must stress this is an emergency situation. Diogenes has threatened to complete his crime tomorrow, January 28. He named this day as the culmination of all his planning. There is no telling how many more lives are in jeopardy."

Glinn opened the folder with his good hand and began leafing through it, scanning the pages. "I cannot produce a profile in twenty-four hours."

"You must."

"It's impossible. The earliest I can do it-assuming I drop all other work and focus solely on this-is seventy-two hours from now. You have come to me too late, Mr. Pendergast. At least too late for the date your brother named. Not too late, perhaps, to take effective action afterwards." He gave his head a curious tilt as he eyed Pendergast.

The agent was very still for a moment. "So be it, then," he said in a low voice.

"Let's not waste any more time." Glinn put a hand on the folder before him and slid it across the table. "Here is our standard contract. My fee is one million dollars."

D'Agosta rose from his chair. "A million bucks? Are you crazy!"

Pendergast stilled him with a wave of his hand. "Accepted." He took the folder, opened it, scanned the contract rapidly.

"At the back," said Glinn, "you'll find our standard disclaimers and warranties. We offer an absolute, unconditional guarantee of success."

"This is the second time you've mentioned that curious guarantee. How do you define 'success,' Mr. Glinn?"

Another ghostly smile lingered on Glinn's face. "Naturally, we cannot guarantee that you will apprehend Diogenes. Nor can we guarantee to stop him from killing. That lies in your hands. Here's what we do guarantee. First: we will give you a forensic profile of Diogenes Pendergast that will accurately elucidate his motive."

"I already know his motive."

Glinn ignored this. "Second: our forensic profile will have predictive power. It will tell you, within a limited range of options, what Diogenes Pendergast's next actions will be. We offer follow-up services- if you have specific questions about the target's future actions, we will run them through our system and provide you with reliable answers."

"I question whether that's possible with any human being, let alone someone like Diogenes."

"I do not wish to bandy philosophical questions with you, Mr. Pendergast. Human beings are disgustingly predictable, and this is as true of psychopaths as it is of grandmothers. We shall do what we say."

"Have you ever failed?"

"Never. There is one assignment that remains-shall we say- open."

"The one involving the thermonuclear device?"

If Glinn was surprised by this question, he did not show it. "What thermonuclear device is that?"

"The one you are designing downstairs. I saw several equations on a whiteboard relating to the curve of binding energy. On a nearby table lay a paper with the design for machining a piece of H.E. that could only be used to compress a core."

"I shall have to speak to my chief engineer about his carelessness with regard to our other project."

"I also see you're developing a genetically engineered plant mosaic virus. Does that also relate to that other project?"

"We offer the same guarantee of confidentiality to our other clients that we offer you. Shall we return to the subject of Diogenes? In particular, the question of his motive."

"Not quite yet," said Pendergast. "I do not speak frivolously. Your entire manner-your speech, your movements, your very intensity, Mr. Glinn-speaks of someone with an overriding obsession. I have also noted that, at least if the scar on your face is an indication, your injuries are recent. When I weigh that with what I saw downstairs, I find myself growing concerned."

Glinn raised his eyebrows. "Concerned?"

"Concerned that a man such as you, wrestling with a problem far greater than my own, wouldn't be able to devote his full attention to mine."

Glinn remained very still, not answering. Pendergast looked across the table at him, equally motionless.

A minute went by, then two, without either man speaking. Watching, waiting, D'Agosta grew increasingly alarmed. It was as if the two men were fighting a duel, waging a battle of turn and counterturn, all without speaking or even moving.

Suddenly, without preamble, Glinn began to speak again in the same calm, neutral voice. "If you ever decide to leave the FBI, Mr. Pendergast, I believe I could find a place for you here. There is no obsession on my part, however-only the simple fulfillment of our guarantee of success. You see, we don't make that guarantee just for our clients: we make it for ourselves. I intend to complete that other project successfully, although the original client is no longer in a condition to appreciate it. That project involves a severe seismic dislocation at a certain site in the South Atlantic that requires a, ah, nuclear adjustment. And that is more than you need to know. It is true that I am taking on your little problem chiefly because I find myself embarrassed for funds. However, I will devote all my energy to seeing your project through, because to fail would mean having to return your money and to suffer personal humiliation. And, as I said, EES does not fail. Clear enough?"