The Time Remaining

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246 38 Gilchrist waited while Cobb ordered the two spotlights that were trained on the house extinguished. “You can go anytime now,” Cobb said to Gilchrist. “I’ll wait thirty minutes and call you.” Even though it was still evening, the moon was out early, and Gilchrist had no problem finding his way to the front door of the house. He put his hand on the doorknob and turned it a full twist. The door opened. Gilchrist paused for a moment and then entered. Then he waited, hoping that Braheem would announce himself. “Braheem!” Gilchrist shouted. “It’s Dodge Gilchrist. I just came into the house. I’m in the foyer beside the stairwell.” “Stop there, Mr. Gilchrist.” It was Braheem’s voice, and it came from the top of the stairwell. Gilchrist stood perfectly still before he heard Braheem say, “Come up the stairs, Mr. Gilchrist. Would you keep your hands high so I can see them, please?” “Okay, but I might stumble. It’s hard to see in the dark.” “I can see you. The stairs are beside you on your left.” Gilchrist located the stairs and, with his hands in the air, began his ascent, step by careful step. When he reached the top, he could see Braheem in the shadows at the end of the hall. “I must ask if you came alone, Mr. Gilchrist.” “Yes. I told you I would.” “And I must ask if you are armed.” “No, I’m not armed.” “Do I have your word?” “You have my word, but you can search me if you want.” “You may put your hands down, Mr. Gilchrist,” Braheem answered and led Gilchrist into what looked like the master bedroom of the house. The Time Remaining | 247 The curtains and drapes were drawn, and the only illumination came from a small night-light near the bed. At first Gilchrist saw no one else in the room. Then to the right of the bed he saw Gelb. He was seated in a straight-back chair, and his hands looked as if they were tied behind his back, and it appeared that his legs were bound with cord around the ankles. Gelb’s face showed intense strain, and his head was tilted slightly forward, as if he were holding something under his chin. Gilchrist took a step closer to Gelb, who looked up at him with a wild fear in his eyes. Actually, he did not look up by moving his head but only his eyes. It was only then that Gilchrist noticed what Gelb was holding under his chin. It was a grenade. It seemed to Gilchrist that it was a grenade of an earlier vintage, but it was definitely a grenade. Braheem had apparently lodged it against his larynx so that Gelb had no choice but to grip it with his chin against his upper chest to keep it from falling. Just when he was about to turn to Braheem again, Gilchrist detected the faint but unmistakable odor of human feces. “Are you going to leave him like that?” Gilchrist asked Braheem. “I think it’s time for a pause,” said Braheem, stepping forward and dislodging the grenade, clamping his hand on the firing pin as he did so. “What if the grenade would have slipped while he was holding it there?” asked Gilchrist. “Then Gelb would be no more. But I don’t think this would have happened. This is the third time that Gelb and I have practiced this little exercise.” Braheem tucked his pistol in his belt, and, still holding the grenade tightly in his right hand like a baseball, he crouched in front of Gelb so that his face and Gelb’s were at the same level. “Do you smell something, Mr. Gelb?” Braheem asked. Gelb stared helplessly at Braheem. His mustache was sweated over his upper lip. “What is it you smell, Mr. Gelb?” Braheem repeated. Gelb remained silent. “Can’t you answer me, Mr. Gelb? Perhaps we can try our little exercise with the grenade for the fourth time. Perhaps that will help you answer my question.” “For God’s sake, Gilchrist,” muttered Gelb. “Can’t you help me?” 248 | The Time Remaining Braheem seized Gelb by his hair and pulled his head back so that he was looking upward, his neck flesh beneath his chin stretched taut. Then Braheem stood up and, still holding Gelb’s...