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〃Gone；〃 rasped Nathan Lee。
〃Are you the gentleman； then； from Makalu？〃
They knew him。 Suddenly the last of his strength drained away。 Ochs had e through here； of course。 He had started weaving his cover story； and it was clearly one of his own survival from great violence and deception。 Nathan Lee was too tired to try to repair the damage。 〃May I have somechai； please？〃 he asked。
The interview was interrupted while the younger policeman scampered off for tea。 It took several minutes。 While he was gone； Nathan Lee asked； 〃What happens now？〃
The officer said； 〃Everything will be fine； sir。〃
The young policeman returned with a thick glass of milk tea dosed with sugar。 In his other hand was an ancient set of shackles。
Nathan Lee accepted the tea。 He calmly watched them cuff his good ankle。 None of this seemed real。 None of it。 He had a daughter back home。 He was not a bad man。 They would straighten matters out。Everything will be fine。
Out of kindness； they didn't shackle his swollen leg。 The chain and extra cuff lay on the ground； unnecessary。 It was plain for all to see that the beast had been captured。
4
Sunday
KERKYRA；CORFU
After mass； the faithful milled in the square； chatting with their neighbors； enjoying their last quiet hour before the tourists arrived。 Easter was over。 The mummified body of the island's saint had been paraded through the streets and returned to his church。 In the town museum； a 2；600…year…old statue of the Gorgon Medusa with serpents for hair had been dusted off。 The money season was about to begin。
In forty minutes the ferry from Italy would arrive at the New Port。 The first of hordes of pasty white British and Germans would descend into their midst。 Before the summer was out； the visitors would number tens of thousands； some on their way to other islands； many just planting themselves on Corfu's beaches。 All had to pass through the island's capital。 The town was ready。 Therembetis had tuned their bouzoukis and electric guitars。 Cafes and bars were well stocked。 The prostitutes and taxi drivers and hotel keepers could not wait。
It was a pretty morning。 The sun was warm； the sea blue。 The hills above town were bright green with basil and rosemary and thyme and oregano seedlings。 Drugged with sun； sleepy cats watched from windows and flower boxes。
Suddenly there was a shout from up the narrow street； then another； a bark of outrage。 〃Slow down； fool；〃 someone yelled。
A wild…eyed young man came careening down the winding lane； scarcely able to control his bicycle。 A big fisherman reached out and caught him before he ran into the Sunday crowd。 The bike struck a wall。 He dropped the young man onto his seat on the cobbles。
〃Ah； it's only Spyros；〃 people said。 Half the men on Corfu were named Spyros after their saint； the mummy Spyridon。 But something in the inflection distinguished this one。 He was Spyros the simpleton； a laborer on a farm。
〃Madonna； Madonna。〃 Tears poured down his face。 He was dressed in coarse； patched trousers and a faded Rolling Stones T…shirt。
〃What is it this time； Spyros？〃
Spyros scrambled to his feet。 He began shouting about an apparition。
〃Hush；〃 a woman said； 〃you'll scare the children。〃
But he went on。 An angel had appeared to him in the hills above town。 〃The Virgin herself。〃
A local tough strutted up。 He shoved Spyros。 〃Don't be sacrilegious；〃 he said。
The big fisherman pushed the tough away。 〃Leave him alone。 He's simple；〃 he said。
〃Then shut him up。 He'll drive the tourists away。〃
〃She is ing；〃 said Spyros。 He cast fearful glances up the street。 Others looked and saw nothing。
Someone threw a small stone at him as if driving away a dog。 Another stone followed。 People clucked or hissed or spit。
〃She es from heaven；〃 said the young man。
〃Go back to your goats； Spyros。〃
〃I never trusted his family；〃 a man said。 〃Look at those blue eyes。 He es from the Turks。〃
Only slowly did they bee aware of her。 She appeared from the lane's deep shadows and descended into view。 Perhaps she had followed the simpleton downhill。 Perhaps she was drawn by the church bells。 Maybe she had simply obeyed gravity on her trek to the sea。
〃Dear Christ in Heaven；〃 someone whispered。
She moved on two legs； but did not look human。 Naked as a ghost； she seemed made of glass。 From a distance； as they squinted into the shadows； her body seemed to flicker in and out of reality。 She drew nearer； but haltingly； with the pace of a sleepwalker。
As she passed； Spyros put his hands to his head and cowered against the wall。 The fisherman stared in disbelief； then took off his cap uncertainly。 He crossed himself。 She swayed past them without a glance。
〃What is this？〃 someone murmured。 The square opened to her。 The crowd pressed back against the buildings。Who could she be？ Where did she e from？
She entered the sunlight and became even more fantastic。 For her skin was nearly transparent。 Her veins showed clearly。 Backlit by the sun； her organs were a silhouetted mass。 One could see the limned bones。
And yet she was not a gruesome sight。 Quite the opposite。 Despite her condition； the woman's beauty was evident。 Her hair was long。 Except for the transparent roots； it was black and tangled with flowers and vegetation。 Her figure was voluptuous； with luminous breasts and flared hips。
She came to a halt。 Some noticed her lower legs and feet。 The skin was torn。 Shepherds' dogs had bitten her。 Thorns stuck from the edges of her soles。 Even if this transfigured being had descended from the heavens； it was clear she had also walked a long distance。
It might have been the smell of the sea which stopped her； or the warmth of the sun or the flatness of the square； the fact that she was no longer being pulled downhill。 Or it could have been the sight of the church。 No one knew why she stopped in their midst。 She had a slight cough。
〃What is your name？〃 a man called out。
Nothing in her radiant face conveyed knowledge。 She seemed not to register the question。 Her peacefulness was startling。
〃Why have you e here？〃 someone asked。
Her mouth opened； but no language came out； only a sound like the beginning of a song。 Her innocence stilled them。 They listened to her single note of sound。 It went on and on。
She raised her arms out to the sides。 Something wondrous happened。 Wings of color flashed and disappeared as her hands lifted up。 Her flesh had bee a prism。 She faced the sun； and her entire body threw a penumbra of rainbow。
〃What kind of creature is this？〃 someone asked。
Someone might have recognized her； even in her condition； if she were a daughter of this island。 As it was； no one in this town had ever met Medea； the fifth wife of Nikos Engatromenos。 She was a stranger to them regardless of her flesh。
An old woman in black dared to go forward。 Clutching her rosary； she reached out and touched the angel。 The strange creature lifted her head and turned blindly in the direction of the old woman。 A murmur rifled through the crowd。
The old woman brought her face closer and made her judgement。 She knelt。〃Evloyite；〃 she said。 Normally it was a greeting reserved only for monks。 She said it again。Bless me。 Rainbows danced upon the old woman's black dress。
Devotion overtook the crowd。 It was spontaneous。 In their collective minds； the woman was nothing less than an angel fallen to earth。
Word spread。 Hundreds of people came close to genuflect and reach out to touch her。 Those close enough crossed themselves with beads of her sweat。 Others tore off bits of their clothing to press to her miraculous flesh。
In the distance； a horn sounded from the sea。 The 12：10 ferry from Brinidisi was approaching。 Dock workers and merchants and taxi drivers and cafe owners detached from the crowd and hurried to greet the boatload of tourists。
Medea sang to them。 She glistened。 On foot； with wings of light； the plague had e to meet its messengers。
5
Crossing the Line
NEWMEXICO
SEPTEMBER； FOURMONTHSLATER
Their yellow schoolbus burst from the mob。 Splattered with eggs and blood and neon paintballs； it looked psychedelic； like a time machine from the Age of Aquarius。 Abbot glanced around him。 Peeking from the windows； some of his fellow passengers could have been flower children with their stringy hair and old jeans。 In fact they were international scientists on their way to the Mesa； better known as Los Alamos National Laboratory。
Every seat was filled。 There were young and old； rich and poor； weird and plain； each one of them on the cutting edge of their research。 From the rear； he saw bleached blond buzz cuts and pierced ears； long hair； bald monk pates； pencil necks； wrestler shoulders； mad scientist frizz； and expensive blow…dried perms； male and female。 Some were high…bred cosmopolitans able to navigate the most convoluted dinner conversation。 Others were near dumb with introspection and shyness。 Some lived by Bach； others by Puff Daddy。 Many were university academics or ran labs for the government or private industry。 Several had branched out and beached tens of millions with their own biotech start…ups。 The majority were biologists； who tended to be more social and grounded than； say； mathematicia