The Investigation by Stanislaw Lem Read Free Book Online Page B

burned-out window in a gutted house?”
    Sheppard moved closer to the wall and blocked the area with his body. The irregular spot of light now shined on his chest.
    “You can’t figure it out because all you can see is a tiny part of the whole,” he said, “right?”
    “So that’s it! You think these disappearing body incidents are only a part—let’s say the beginning—of something bigger.”
    “That’s it exactly.”
    Sheppard was pacing again. Gregory returned his gaze to the spot on the wall.
    “It may even be the beginning of something with criminal and political implications that go beyond the boundaries of this country. What comes next, of course, will depend on what has already taken place, and naturally it could all work out differently. Maybe everything that’s happened so far is only a diversion, or camouflage for some other operation…”
    Deeply engrossed in the dark, nerve-wracking shape, Gregory hardly heard him.
    “Excuse me, Chief Inspector,” he interrupted. “What is that thing?”
    “What? Oh, that.”
    Sheppard switched on the ceiling light and the room was filled with brightness. A second or so later he switched it off again, but during the few instants of light Gregory finally managed to catch a glimpse of what he had been staring at so fruitlessly: it was a woman’s head thrown backward at an angle, the whites of her eyes staring straight ahead, her neck scarred by the mark of a noose. There wasn’t enough time for him to see all the details, but even so, with a peculiar kind of delayed action, the expression of horror in the dead face got to him, and he turned to Sheppard, who was still pacing back and forth.
    “Maybe you’re right,” said Gregory, blinking his eyes, “but I don’t know if that’s the most important thing about it. Do you really believe that a man alone in a darkened mortuary in the middle of the night would tear apart a cloth curtain with his teeth?”
    “Don’t you?” Sheppard interrupted.
    “Yes, of course, if he did it because he was nervous or afraid, or if there weren’t any other tools available … but you know as well as I do why he did it. That damned ironclad consistency that we’ve seen throughout this whole series. After all, he did everything to make it look like the bodies had come back to life. He planned everything to achieve that effect, even studied the weather reports. But how could he possibly predict that the police would be ready to believe in miracles? And that’s exactly what makes the whole thing so insane!”
    “The kind of criminal you’re talking about doesn’t exist and couldn’t possibly exist,” Sheppard observed indifferently. He pushed the drapes to the side and looked out a dark window.
    After a long interval Gregory asked, “Why did you bring up the Lapeyrot case?”
    “Because it began childishly, with buttons arranged in patterns. But that isn’t the only reason. Tell me something: exactly what is contrary to human nature?”
    “I don’t understand…” Gregory mumbled. He was beginning to get a splitting headache.
    “A person manifests his individuality by his actions,” the Chief Inspector explained quietly. “Naturally this holds true for criminal acts also. But the pattern that emerges from our series of incidents is impersonal. Impersonal, like a natural law of some kind. Do you see what I mean?”
    “I think so,” said Gregory. His voice was hoarse. He leaned over to one side, very slowly, until he was completely out of the blinding glare of the desk lamp. Thanks to this movement his eyes were soon able to see better in the darkness. There were several other pictures hanging next to the photograph of the woman, all showing the faces of dead people. Meanwhile, Sheppard had resumed his pacing across the room, moving back and forth against a background of nightmarish faces as if he were in the middle of some kind of weird stage setting; no … more as if he were among very ordinary, familiar