The Sparrow Read Online Free PDF Page B

couldn’t do for himself. Cut his toenails, shave, go to the can alone. Made you squirm, just considering it all. John rummaged around in his briefcase and pulled out a pair of thin leather gloves, fingers and thumbs removed, cut edges expertly turned and hemmed. "I mean, eventually, a surgeon could probably reconstruct the palms for you but, see, I thought gloves would sort of hold things together, for now. You still won’t have a lot of dexterity, I suppose, but you might be able to grip things this way." Sandoz looked at him, wide-eyed. "I mean, you could try them. If they don’t work, it’s no big deal. Just a pair of gloves, right?"
    "Thank you," Sandoz said in an odd voice.
    Pleased, and relieved that Sandoz had not been offended by his offer, John helped him fit the impossibly long, scarred fingers into the gloves. Why the hell did they do this to him? John wondered, trying to be careful of the raw new tissue that had only recently reclosed. All the muscles of the palms had been carefully cut from the bones, doubling the length of the fingers, and Sandoz’s hands reminded John of childhood Halloween skeletons. "Now that I think of it," John said, "cotton might have been better. It’s okay. If this pair works out, I’ll make another. I’ve got an idea for a way to fit a spoon into a little loop here, so it would be easier for you to eat. Sometimes the simplest solution is the best, you know?"
    Shut up, John, you’re babbling, he told himself. Occupied with putting the gloves on, he was for the moment completely unaware of the tears tracing the lines down Sandoz’s worn and expressionless face. When he finished with the second glove, John looked up. Appalled, his smile faded.
    Sandoz wept silently, still as an icon, for perhaps five minutes. John stayed with him, sitting on the bed, waiting until the man came back from wherever he’d been in memory.
    "Father Candotti," Sandoz said at last, tears drying unacknowledged on his face, "if ever I should desire a confessor, I shall call upon you."
    John Candotti, speechless for once, began to realize why he had been brought to Rome.
    "Thank you for coming," Sandoz said.
    Candotti nodded once and then again, as though confirming something, and left quietly.

4
    ARECIBO, PUERTO RICO:
MARCH 2019
    W HEN THE SOLUTION came to him, Jimmy Quinn was shaving, stooped over to see into a mirror hung, inevitably, too low to reflect his head. Most of his best ideas were like that. Sometimes, they occurred to him in the shower, crouched down trying to get his head under the water. He wondered if contorting his neck increased blood flow to his brain somehow. Anne Edwards would know; he’d have to ask her the next time he was over there for dinner.
    This particular idea had taken its own sweet time in arriving. Jimmy had promised Peggy Soong that he’d find some way to balance the interests of the employees and the owners of Arecibo, but he’d come up dry. And that surprised him because he was generally able to find ways to please himself and, at the same time, to please his parents, his teachers, his buddies, his girlfriends. It wasn’t that hard, if you put yourself in the other person’s place. Jimmy liked to get along with people. So far, however, he’d found that the only way to get along with the Japanese management of the Arecibo Radio Telescope was to be quiet and do exactly as he was told.
    His position at the dish was about as low as it could be, among the scientific staff. Whenever the telescope wasn’t being used for something serious, Jimmy ran the standard SETI routines, monitoring the skies for alien radio transmissions. You could tell how low a priority the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence had become simply by noting that it was Jimmy who got stuck with the job. Most of the time, though, he processed requests to collect radio signals from targeted coordinates. A light astronomer would see something