Biblical by Christopher Galt Read Free Book Online

height and the shifted perspective making Macbeth feel unsteady.
    Here, at close quarters, he saw again that the fair-haired man on the edge of the parapet was poised. Calm. Almost serene. Not the usual jumper. In his late twenties or early thirties, Macbeth estimated. Seen from behind and a little to the side, stripped of his clothes, he looked pale and thin, except for a thickening of the waistline above the hips: a roll of soft fat hinting at a future weight problem. Again it appeared to Macbeth that the naked man was looking at something far away, out in the dark above or beyond the city.
    The priest was about the same age as the man on the parapet and crouched, one knee on the floor, resting his elbow on the other, almost in a posture of genuflection. He had positioned himself to the side of the naked man, about six feet off, and Macbeth could hear he was lecturing him, in a soft, patronizing tone, about the sin of self-murder.
    “That’s all we need,” Corbin muttered to Macbeth. “Someone to compound his religious mania. Two delusionals for the price of one …”
    “Father Mullachy is doing just fine,” said the younger cop defensively, his face filled with hostility and ten generations of dumb believing. He could have been the sergeant’s son.
    “You do realize that if your priest out there validates his delusion, he might just talk him into jumping?” Corbin shook his head and turned to Macbeth. “You’d better hang back, John, seeing you’re unofficial here.”
    “I’ll watch and learn …” Macbeth smiled and moved over to where the younger cop and the sergeant with the big Irish face stood. From this vantage point, Macbeth could now see something of the naked man’s profile.
    “You say this guy claims he’s the angel Gabriel?” Corbin asked the sergeant.
    “Something like that. Or maybe his name really is Gabriel, but you know what these types are like, they run off at the mouth and none of it makes sense. He kept on going on about knowing the truth, having a message, all the usual crap. Funny thing is he’s calmer than most.”
    Corbin nodded and moved closer to the priest and the man on the parapet.
    “Hi. My name’s Peter … I’d like to talk to you. Can I come closer?”
    “Not too close.” The standing man spoke quietly and calmly but the young priest turned in Corbin’s direction and held up a halting hand, his expression impatient. Corbin ignored him and crossed the roof.
    “That’ll do fine,” said the naked man, over his shoulder.
    “Hello …” Corbin repeated. “I’m Peter. What do I call you?”
    “His name is Gabriel,” said the priest.
    “Is that your name?” Corbin asked the naked man, then turned to the priest, keeping his voice low and even. “Move away, Father. You could do more harm than good.”
    “I am here to tend to a soul in distress. I have a place here.”
    “At least move back.” Corbin shot a steel thread of warningthrough his tone. The priest didn’t move. Corbin turned his attention back to the naked man.
    “Is that really your name? Are you Gabriel?”
    The naked man made no hint of having heard Corbin, continuing to stare out over the city.
    “You can call me Gabriel,” he said eventually and absently, as if talking to Corbin was a distraction. “Call me whatever you want. Anything can be given a name, but that doesn’t mean that thing is what you call it. You can give something a name, but it doesn’t mean that it is. Tell me, Peter, are you a psychiatrist?”
    “I’m here to help you, Gabriel,” said Corbin. “That’s the most important thing, but yes, I’m a psychiatrist.”
    “I see. You’re here to observe me …” Gabriel said, still distracted by something only he could see, far out over and above the city. “To observe me and evaluate my state. Those two things are contradictory, if you don’t mind me saying … the Observer Effect in quantum physics proves the act of observation itself changes the state of