since Kendall had arrived. “You’ve done well,” he said. “I must say I’m quite impressed.”
“I could probably find more, if I work backward,” Kendall said. “You told me to concentrate on the Twentieth Century, but I’m confident that if I went back to the Nineteenth Century, and even earlier….”
“That won’t be necessary. I’d say you’ve made your case.” Hinman stood and walked to a nearby sideboard. “What say we have a drink to celebrate?”
Kendall asked for Scotch, and he was just taking his first sip of exquisite single malt when Hinman said, “I’m sorry if I was rough on you at the start. I just like to play devil’s advocate with people. I’ve found it often stimulates their thinking, makes then sharper.”
“No offense taken,” Kendall said, “but it’s interesting you should use that term, ‘devil’s advocate.’ Do you know where it comes from?”
Hinman thought for a moment. “Isn’t it that short story — ‘The Devil and Daniel Webster’? I think I read it in high school.”
Kendall shook his head. “It’s not from there. In fact, if you think about it, Webster in the story was advocating against the devil, not for him. No, the term dates back to the Sixteenth Century, and the Roman Catholic Church. Of course, they rendered it in Latin: advocatus diaboli . It’s more common meaning has to do with the process of naming someone as a saint. Canonization, they call it. There’s a committee of Cardinals appointed in each case to look at the evidence, but one of them is specifically charged to come up with objections, with reasons why the person in question should not be declared a saint. It’s supposed to spur debate among the committee, and also to avoid embarrassment for the Church later, if canonization takes place.”
Hinman swirled brandy around in the snifter he was holding, then said thoughtfully, “And you’re telling me all this, why?”
“Because of the second sense of advocatus diaboli , the less well known usage. The most common meaning of advocatus is ‘advocate,’ of course — that’s where we get the English word. But there’s a secondary connotation, which translates as ‘the called or summoned one.’ So, in that sense, the phrase could be translated as ‘the summoned one of the devil,’ or, more colloquially, ‘the devil’s representative.’”
Hinman was frowning. “And I need to know all this, because….”
“Because there are several instances, in old Latin texts, of the term being used in that precise way. And in each case, the reference seems to be describing a being who sounds an awful lot like our mysterious Mister X.”
“Now that is interesting.” Hinman drank some brandy. “Very interesting indeed.” He put the snifter down and sat back in his chair. “Now, here’s what I want you to do about it.”
* * *
Hinman brought Kendall into his study and waved him toward the same chair he had occupied the last time. Sitting down behind his desk, Hinman said, “Been a while, hasn’t it?”
“Sixteen months,” Kendall said with a nod. “Almost seventeen.”
“I assume that after all the expense money I’ve sent you over that time, you haven’t come back to report failure.”
“No, quite the contrary.” Kendall let a Cheshire cat grin spread across his lean face. “I’ve found him.”
After a long moment, Hinman produced a smile of his own. “Excellent! That’s terrific news. Where did you run him down?”
“In Karachi, Pakistan. Although, I suppose it’s more accurate to say that he found me .”
Hinman made an impatient gesture. “Whatever. The details don’t matter. What’s really important is, when can I meet him?”
“Today.”
“Really? Outstanding.” Hinman leaned forward over his desk. “Where and when?”
“Here, and, I suppose, any time now. I asked him to accompany me to our meeting today, but he declined. He said he’d be here when we were ready for him.”
Hinman shook