"Not the kind you're accustomed to, I'm sure."

Jennings closed the door and disappeared into an alcove, as Thorn's eyes scanned the darkened room. It was bathed in a reddish glow that came from the opened door of a closet-sized darkroom, the walls adorned with blown-up photos.

"Here we go," Jennings said, returning with a bottle and glasses. "Little of this and you'll be ready for the Turks."

Thorn accepted his glass and Jennings poured; Jennings then sat on the bed, gesturing toward a pile of pillows on the floor, but Thorn remained standing.

"Cheers," said Jennings. "Care for a smoke?"

Thorn shook his head, unnerved by the man's casual mood.

"You said something was happening."

"That it is."

"I'd like to know what you meant."

Jennings studied him carefully.

"Don't you know already?"

"No, I don't."

"Then why are you here?"

"You wouldn't explain yourself on the phone."

Jennings nodded and put down his glass.

"I couldn't explain it because it's something you've got to see."

"What is it?"

"It's photos." He rose and entered the darkroom, gesturing Thorn to follow. "I thought you might want to be sociable first."

"I'm very tired."

"Well, this will get your heart beating."

He turned on a small lamp, spotlighting a group of photos; Thorn entered and sat on a stool beside Jennings.

"Recognize these?"

They were pictures of the party. Damien's fourth birthday party; shots of children riding the carousel, shots of Katherine gazing into the crowd.

"Yes," replied Thorn.

"Take a look at this one."

Jennings removed the top photos, revealing one of Chessa, Damien's first nanny. She was standing alone in her clown costume, framed against the background of the house.

"See anything unusual?" asked Jennings.

"No."

Jennings touched the photo, tracing with his finger the vague haze that hung about her neck and head.

"Thought it was a blemish at first," said Jennings. "But look how it works with the next one."

He pulled out a photo of Chessa, hanging from the roof.

"I don't understand," said Thorn.

"Bear with me."

Jennings moved aside the stack of photos, replacing it with another. On top was a shot of the small priest, Tassone, walking away from the Embassy.

"How 'bout that one?"

Thorn turned to him with dismay.

"Where did you get this?"

"Took it."

"I thought you were looking for this man. You said you were related to him."

"I lied. Just look at the picture."

Jennings touched the photo, pointing out the hazy appendage that seemed to hang over the priest's head.

"That 'shadow' over his head?" asked Thorn.

"Yes. Then look at this one. Taken about ten days later."

He shuffled to another photo and put it under the light. It was a blow-up of a group of people standing at the back of an auditorium. Tassone's face could not be seen, only priestly robes, but just above where the head should have been was the same oblong shape hanging in the air.