A Conspiracy of Faith Read Online Free Page A

suit introduced himself as John Studsgaard. Small, and with an air of authority. Apart from the flat brown briefcase under his arm he seemed harmless enough. A pleasant smile and his hand outstretched. However, it was an impression that evaporated the moment he opened his mouth.
    “There’s a report of asbestos having been found in the corridor here and in the crawl space on the last inspection. We’ll need to inspect the insulation so the area can be made safe for use.”
    Carl peered up at the ceiling. One bloody pipe. The only one in the entire basement. Bollocks.
    “I see you’ve got offices here,” the suit went on. “Would that be in accordance with official occupation and fire regulations for the building?” He was just about to unzip his briefcase, obviously in possession of a stack of documents that would provide him with the answer to his question.
    “Offices? What offices?” said Carl. “You mean the archive briefing space here?”
    “Archive briefing space?” The man looked lost for a second, but then the bureaucrat took charge. “I’m not entirely familiar with the term, but it seems clear to me that a lot of what I would call regular work-related activity is conducted here during the course of a day.”
    “You mean the coffeemaker? We can put it somewhere else if you want.”
    “No, it’s not that. It’s more the whole setup. Desks, bulletin boards, shelving, coat hooks, archives, office supplies, photocopiers.”
    “Oh, right, I’m with you now! Listen, do you know how many stairs there are up to the third floor from here?”
    “No.”
    “OK, then you probably don’t know either that we’re short-staffed and that it’d take up most of the day if we had to shoot up and down those stairs every time we needed to photocopy something for the archive. Perhaps you’d prefer to have killers running around on the loose than for us to be able to do our jobs properly?”
    Studsgaard was about to protest, but Carl raised a hand and stopped him. “Where is this asbestos, exactly?”
    The man frowned. “This isn’t about where or how. We have an incidence of asbestos contamination. Asbestos is a carcinogen. It’s not something you wipe up with a floor cloth.”
    “Were you here when the inspection took place, Rose?” Carl inquired.
    She pointed off down the corridor. “They found some dust along there somewhere.”
    “ASSAD!” Carl yelled, so loud the man took a step backward. “Come on, Rose, show me,” he said as Assad popped into view.
    “You too, Assad. Bring your bucket, a cloth, and those nice green gloves of yours. Job for you.”
    They walked the fifteen steps along the corridor and then Rose pointed to some white, powdery substance on the floor between her black boots. “There!” she exclaimed.
    The man from Health and Safety protested and endeavored to explain that what they were clearly intending to do was quite inadequate. That the source would be left untouched, and that common sense and all the regulations dictated that contamination should be removed in accordance with existing precepts.
    Carl ignored him. “Once you’ve wiped it up, Assad, I want you to geton the phone and call a joiner. We need a partition wall to separate Health and Safety’s contaminated zone from our briefing space. Don’t want to be breathing all that crap into our lungs, do we, now?”
    Assad shook his head deliberately. “What space was that you said, Carl? Briefing space…?”
    “Just wipe the floor, Assad. The man’s busy.”
    The official flashed Carl a hostile look. “You’ll be hearing from us,” was the last thing he said as he huffed off down the corridor, briefcase clutched tight against his rib cage.
    Hearing from them! Carl didn’t doubt it for a minute.

    “Tell me now, Assad, what all my case files are doing up there on the wall,” said Carl. “I hope for your sake they’re copies.”
    “Copies? If you prefer copies, Carl, I can take them down again. I can get you all