A compact, muscular young man with dark skin and a crew cut came into the room. As before, Evans was struck by his vaguely military bearing, and British accent. "Lights are all back on, Professor," Sanjong Thapa said. "Should I call the police?"
"Not just yet," Kenner said. "Give me a hand here, Sanjong." Together, Kenner and his friend went through the pockets of the handcuffed men. "As I thought," Kenner said, straightening at last. "No identification on them."
"Who are they?"
"That'll be a question for the police," he said. The men were beginning to cough, and wake up. "Sanjong, let's get them to the front door." They hauled the intruders to their feet, and half-led, half-dragged them out of the room.
Evans was alone with Sarah. "How did Kenner get in the house?"
"He was in the basement. He's been searching the house most of the afternoon."
"And why didn't you tell me?"
"I asked her not to," Kenner said, walking back into the room. "I wasn't sure about you. This is a complicated business." He rubbed his hands together. "Now then, shall we have a look at that envelope?"
"Yes." Sarah sat down on the couch, and tore it open. A single sheet of paper, neatly folded, was inside. She stared at it in disbelief. Her face fell.
"What is it?" Evans said.
Without a word, she handed it to him.
It was a bill from the Edwards Fine Art Display Company of Torrance, California, for construction of a wooden pedestal to support a statue of a Buddha. Dated three years ago.
Feeling dejected, Evans sat down on the couch next to Sarah.
"What?" Kenner said. "Giving up already?"
"I don't know what else to do."
"You can begin by telling me exactly what George Morton said to you."
"I don't remember exactly."
"Tell me what you do remember."
"He said it was a philosophical saying. And it was something like, 'Everything that matters is near where the Buddha sits.'"
"No. That's impossible," Kenner said, in a definite tone.
"Why?"
"He wouldn't have said that."
"Why?"
Kenner sighed. "I should think it's self-evident. If he was giving instructions--which we presume he was--he wouldn't be so inexact. So he must have said something else."
"That's all I remember," Evans said, defensively. Evans found Kenner's quick manner to be brusque, almost insulting. He was beginning not to like this man.
"That's all you remember?" Kenner said. "Let's try again. Where did George make this statement to you? It must have been after you left the lobby."
At first Evans was puzzled. Then he remembered: "Were you there?"
"Yes, I was. I was in the parking lot, off to one side."
"Why?" Evans said.
"We'll discuss that later," Kenner said. "You were telling me, you and George went outside..."
"Yes," Evans said. "We went outside. It was cold, and George stopped singing when he felt the cold. We were standing on the steps of the hotel, waiting for the car."
"Uh-huh..."
"And when it came, he got into the Ferrari, and I was worried he shouldn't be driving, and I asked him about that, and George said, 'This reminds me of a philosophical saying.' And I said, 'What is it?' And he said. 'Everything that matters is not far from where the Buddha sits.'"
"Not far?" Kenner said.
"That's what he said."
"All right," Kenner said. "And at this moment, you were..."
"Leaning over the car."
"The Ferrari."
"Yes."
"Leaning over. And when George told you this philosophical saying, what did you answer back?"
"I just asked him not to drive."
"Did you repeat the phrase?"
"No," Evans said.
"Why not?"
"Because I was worried about him. He shouldn't be driving. Anyway, I remember thinking it was sort of awkwardly phrased. 'Not remote from where the Buddha sits.'"
"Not remote?" Kenner said.
"Yes," Evans said.
"He said to you, 'not remote?'"
"Yes."
"Muchbetter," Kenner said. He was moving restlessly around the room, his eyes flicking from object to object. Touching things, dropping them, moving on.
"Why is it much better?" Evans said irritably.
Kenner gestured around the room. "Look around you, Peter. What do you see?"
"I see a media room."
"Exactly."
"Well, I don't understand--"
"Sit down on the couch, Peter."
Evans sat down, still furious. He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at Kenner.
The doorbell rang. They were interrupted by the arrival of the police. Kenner said, "Let me handle this. It's easier if they don't see you," and he again walked out of the room. From the hallway, they heard several low voices discussing the two captured intruders. It sounded all very chummy.
Evans said, "Does Kenner have something to do with law enforcement?"
"Not exactly."
"What does that mean?"
"He just seems to know people."
Evans stared at her. "He knows people," he repeated.
"Different sorts of people. Yes. He sent George off to see a lot of them. Kenner has a tremendously wide range of contacts. Particularly in the environmental area."
"Is that what the Center for Risk Analysis does? Environmental risks?"
"I'm not sure."
"Why is he on sabbatical?"
"You should ask him these things."
"Okay."
"You don't like him, do you?" she said.
"I like him fine. I just think he's a conceited asshole."