Jennings swiveled in his chair and opened a drawer, producing a tattered folder.

"The police dismissed him as a kook," he said. "Let me rummage through and take what I wanted. That's how I got this."

Jennings rose and moved into the living room, Thorn following. There the photographer upended the folder, spilling its contents onto the table.

"The first item is a diary," he said, lifting a small tattered book from the pile. "It doesn't tell about him, it tells about you. Your movements. When you left your office, where you went, what restaurants you had lunch in, where your speaking engagements were . . ."

"May I see it?"

"Be my guest."

Thorn took it with trembling hands and slowly leafed through the pages.

"The last notation says you were scheduled to meet with him"' continued Jennings. "In Kew Gardens. That's dated the same day he died. Seems to me the police might have taken a little more interest if they had known that."

Thorn raised his eyes, and they locked with Jennings'.

"He was insane," said Thorn.

"Was he?"

Jennings' tone was threatening, and Thorn stiffened under his gaze.

"What do you want?"

"Did you meet with him?"

"No."

"I've got more information yet to come, Mr. Ambassador, but it won't come unless you tell me the truth."

"What's your interest in this?" Thorn hissed under his breath.

"I want to be of service," answered Jennings. "I'm your friend."

Thorn remained rigid, his eyes fixed on Jennings.

"The really important items are here," said Jennings, pointing to the table. "You want to talk, or do you want to walk out?"

Thorn gritted his teeth.

"What do you want to know?"

"Did you see him in the park?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"He warned me."

"About what?"

"He said my life was in danger."

"What kind of danger?"

"He wasn't clear."

"Don't bullshit me."

"I'm not. He wasn't making sense."

Jennings stepped back, eyeing Thorn with doubt.

"It was about the Bible," Thorn added. "It was a poem. I don't remember it. I thought he was insane. I couldn't understand it, I'm telling you the truth. I don't remember it, and I couldn't understand it!"

Jennings seemed skeptical as Thorn fidgeted under his gaze.

"I think you should confide in me," said Jennings.

"You said you had more information."

"Not until I hear more."

"I have nothing more to say."

Jennings nodded in surrender and sifted through the items on the table. Flicking on a bare bulb suspended overhead, he found a newspaper clipping and handed it to Thorn.

"It's from a magazine called Astrologer's Monthly. A report by an astologer of what he calls an 'unusual phenomenon.' A comet that took the shape of a glowing star. Like the star of Bethlehem, two thousand years ago."

Thorn studied the article, wiping the perspiration that formed on his upper lip.