Gilmour saw the man slump over through the control room glass, and for a few moments thought it was a great gag pulled by the engineer to express his admiration over the solo. He laughed approvingly and gave him a "thumbs up."
But the engineer's head had landed on the talkback button on the console, and he heard a faint voice simply say, "Help me," into his headphones, and then the talkback went dead. Something was very wrong. He unplugged his cable and ran up the stairs, into the control room.
By this time, the engineer lay on the floor, his contorted face as gray as slush in Chicago after a winter storm.
But the man was in a very odd position; he lay on his side, yet his arms were positioned in nearly a circle, in what he thought was almost a deliberate "O" shape. He said to the assistant engineer cowering in the back of the room, "Quickly, call a medic and then call Scotland Yard. Tell the Yard that I told you to call. Ask for Inspector Sky Fall. And when you get him, just say, 'Find The One.' Got that?"
The young man nodded, his face in disbelief.
Repeat what I told you to tell Sky Fall?
"Find The One," said the assistant.
"Good," Gilmour said. "I'm going to get moving. Remember what I told you."
And then he grabbed his iPhone, took a picture of the body, and texted a number. Anxiously, the younger man picked up the studio phone and started dialing as he was told.
Gilmour left through a side entrance to the building, and walked briskly to the silver 1972 Aston Martin Vantage he'd bought with the first of his "Dark Side of the Moon" royalties. The engine purred to life smoothly as he turned the key. The red leather interior was nicely broken in by years of use, but not worn out. The car was his baby. As he pulled away from Abbey Road, the familiar feel of the straight-six engine, and he felt good that he'd gotten one of the 71 made, with the old DB6 engine and wire wheels every time he drove it. But he did not consider himself a collector of cars.