“So the rest were still in the basement.”

“What rest?” Comera said. “There was one more guy.”

Ableson and Hawkins looked at each other.

“One man caused all that racket?” Lerner asked.

“That’s all I saw.”

Lerner thought, then said, “Maybe the rest didn’t leave until you stopped watching.”

“No. I saw them drive away and no one else came out.”

No one knew what to ask next. Then Lerner said, “Go back to when the noise stopped.”

“It just stopped. Like a stuck horn stops. Then the three on the sidewalk go down the stairs and I couldn’t see them. Then they come up in a minute, and there’s four of them.”

“Could you see the fourth man’s face?”

“No. He was wearing a big plastic poncho with a hood pulled down.”

“Then what?”

“They opened the van panel, helped the fourth guy in, then they got in and drove away.”

“Why did they help the fourth man? Was he hurt?”

“I don’t think so. I think he was just big and clumsy.”

“How big?” The question came from Hawkins. It was the first time he’d said anything.

“Real big,” Comera said, “the tallest of the four.”

“You said one of the three outside was very tall,” Hawkins said.

“The fourth one was even taller.”

“How tall was the third man?” Lerner asked.

Comera considered and looked at Hawkins.

“Maybe as tall as him.”

Lerner said, “Stand up, Roger.”

Hawkins got to his feet. He looked enormous in the low-­ceilinged room.

“Try to see him in relation to the van,” Lerner said. “Was the third man that tall?”

“Yes,” Comera said softly, staring at Hawkins. He looked scared.

“And the fourth man was even bigger?”

Comera didn’t answer; he was still staring at Hawkins.

“How tall are you, man?” he asked.

“Six three,” Hawkins said.

“Oh God,” Comera moaned. “Oh my God, the fourth one was bigger . . .” He held his arms wide to show them how much, then he looked at the spread and widened it even further. “Two feet . . . oh my God . . . three feet.”

Pescado shut off the recorder and looked at Hawkins. His face was red and he was holding a peeled orange in one hand.

“I came all the way from Brooklyn to hear this shit,” he said. “And it’s total shit. No one’s nine feet tall.”

“Maybe he was only eight three,” Hawkins said mildly. He still had the headache and everything in the room looked out of focus. He’d tried to call Levy three times, but Luria answered every time and said Levy was sleeping. He’d asked to talk to Rachel then, but Luria said she was busy. Alma kept calling, but he hadn’t called her back, and the speech which he was supposed to give day after tomorrow was only half finished.