Cry Darkness

by Hilary Bonner

  ‘That’s why I still think any government would rather have that power than destroy it. It’s a riddle, Connie. And, by the way, you still haven’t explained why you got in touch with me before the explosion. I knew you wanted help, but RECAP had always muddled along all right without any help from anyone.’

  ‘Well, I wanted your influence more than anything. Your power, I suppose. You are a figure of some acclaim not only in the academic world, but also in the media, in the UK anyway. We thought if we had you on our side, if you were prepared to publicly support us, we might look a bit better to the outside world. Not so much like nutters’ corner. As I told you on the phone, we believed we were under threat, that there were people in high places who wanted us closed down once and for all. Lots of things, apparently unconnected, had started to happen, long before the break-in and the explosion. Both Paul and I, quite out of the blue, were being investigated by the Internal Revenue, for a start.’

  ‘You two? For God’s sake.’

  ‘I know. And my finances are, or rather were, totally tied up with RECAP. Any kind of threat to me was a direct threat to our work. I wasn’t all that worried by it, not really, because I couldn’t think they had anything on me. I mean, do I have a fortune salted away?’

  ‘No. But your bookkeeping’s never been all that, has it, Con? Nor Paul’s, as far as I remember. Couldn’t the Revenue’s attentions just have been attracted by bad accounting?’

  ‘Not for them to come in as heavy as they did. Anyway, there were other things. All niggles really. Paul and I suddenly kept getting tickets for speeding offences allegedly picked up on cameras. And of course the university authorities started bugging us, laying down the law about stuff, introducing rules and regulations, and that in itself was odd. After all they’d spent the best part of the previous forty-something years more or less trying to pretend RECAP didn’t exist. Suddenly we were being asked to log in and log out, told we couldn’t use the lab in the evenings after standard office hours, asked for an inventory of our fixtures and fittings …’

  Jones couldn’t stop himself laughing at that. ‘Hope you gave them a list of the cuddly toys, names, manufacturers, descriptions …’

  ‘That’s what Paul said. Well, we were both cool about it to begin with. But they kept coming at us all ways. We were told we were going to have to move out of the lab we’d been in for so long, and into a smaller work space.’ She paused. ‘There were also rumours that we were going to be the subject of a major FBI investigation.’

  Jones knew enough not to react too strongly to that.

  ‘Well, they’ve investigated before, haven’t they? And other government bodies. Way back in the 1980s, the US army initiated a report on psi. And there have been a succession of government sponsored scientific review committees set up to examine the evidence for psi effects, and the implications for national security, right?’

  ‘Yes. But nobody at that kind of level has contacted us recently. Actually, we’ve had no official contact with the CIA, the FBI or any government body whatsoever for years.’

  ‘We’re heading towards a conspiracy theory, aren’t we, Connie? I can feel it coming.’

  ‘Of course. That explosion wasn’t an accident, nor a random terror attack. Our location was too obscure, for a start.’

  ‘So again who?’

  Connie shrugged.

  ‘The possibilities are endless. The US establishment has always been suspicious of us. It’s hard to believe the government blew us up, although you never know, but I reckon some maverick government agency might well have done. Governments throughout the world are confused by us. Military and intelligence organizations here in the US, and in many other countries, have used psi consistently over the years, as have various police forces internationally, even though they almost always deny it. Think of the effect on crime and policing if we could take what we do a step forwards, and not only enhance our abilities to use psychic forces in such work, but also be able to explain exactly what these forces are and how they function. Just imagine, Sandy?’

  ‘I first thought about that twenty-five years ago, Connie.’

  She nodded. ‘Of course you did. You were always the one with the practical bent. Well, we’ve moved on since then. And that is frightening for so many. There’s a widespread belief, amongst those who hold the balance of power in this world, that there are some things we shouldn’t be allowed to find out about. All forms of organized religion, including the extremists, obviously, hate RECAP. Then there’s international business chiefs, media moguls, and so on. Almost anyone who relies on the furtherance of the status quo. Man’s mind interconnecting across the world, and governing the machines we use just by the power of thought, a scary concept for all of these. Political leaders and those in charge of security across the world, remain the major threat, in my opinion. But, I wonder how far any of these might go to stop the secret of global consciousness being discovered?’

  ‘Or if it was, they would want it just for themselves, wouldn’t they?’

  Connie nodded again. ‘It could make the atom bomb look like a pretty pathetic weapon, by comparison. And just consider the scientists who invented the atom bomb. Robert Oppenheimer was a genius, but he never came close to realizing the full extent of the effect splitting the atom would have until it was too late. Then he said, “I am become death. The shatterer of worlds.”’

  ‘I remember. It’s a quote from the Bhagavad Gita, the words of Krishna, actually. And, as a matter of fact, the closest Indian philosophy ever gets to the nature of consciousness.’

  ‘Whatever, you annoyingly clever person. It’s the cross Oppenheimer had to bear. And the discovery Paul believed he had made could shatter worlds, no doubt about it … Look, I need your help more than ever, Sandy. I need your brain. You do have the gift you know, far more than any of the rest of us, Paul, Ed, or me.’

  Jones looked down at the floor.

  ‘It’s all right,’ continued Connie. ‘I know it was never a gift that you wanted. From the beginning, you were intrigued, captivated even, but I think a half of you always wished that wasn’t so.’

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Jones protested mildly.

  Connie smiled.

  ‘If anyone has a chance of getting to the bottom of this mystery, and of making it possible for me to return to Princeton and somehow rebuild RECAP, and continue with what must surely have been Paul’s greatest work, it’s you, Sandy,’ she said.

  ‘I’m flattered,’ replied Jones.

  Connie raised her eyebrows in feigned surprise. ‘You shouldn’t attempt modesty, Sandy. You never did do it well.’

  ‘Fair comment,’ said Jones mildly.

  ELEVEN

  Jones concentrated hard on working out a plan.

  ‘Look Connie, surely Paul would have kept records, not just at the lab, but elsewhere, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, undoubtedly. On his laptop, and possibly his computer at home. That’s partly why I went back to Princeton the night you were arrested. I went to Paul’s house first, but it was guarded by armed police. There were people in those white suits all over the place like flies. Forensics officers, I assumed. Every so often they’d come out carrying something wrapped in polythene. I saw someone bringing Paul’s desktop computer out. And that’s what I’d wanted to get at.’

  ‘So if the police, the security forces, whoever, already have the computer from Paul’s house, they’ll already have gone through it with a toothcomb I should imagine.’

  ‘Presumably.’

  ‘Connie, did Paul have his laptop with him on the day of the explosion? Can you remember?’

  ‘No, Sandy. I don’t remember. He usually did. I can picture him carrying it. But I can’t be sure. I’ve wracked my brains.’

  ‘Is there anyone else Paul might have talked to, given a copy to even?’

  ‘If he’d trusted anyone with a copy, I feel pretty sure it would have been me. After Gilda died Paul cut himself off from the world, even more than ever. T
here was nothing and nobody in his life anymore, apart from his work. Except, well, there was always Ed, of course.’

  ‘So could he know more than you?’

  ‘I doubt it. But he might know something different to me, I suppose. He might have a piece of the jigsaw that I don’t.’

  ‘Well then, we should seek Ed out again, shouldn’t we?’

  ‘Whaddya mean we? I’m dead, remember?’

  Sandy grinned. ‘Of course. You’re dead and I’ve been as near as dammit deported.’

  ‘Only as near as dammit. The police and whoever the hell else it was who gave you a hard time in Princeton had no power to deport you. You’ve not committed a crime. America is still a free country. Loosely speaking.’

  ‘Yeah, very loosely speaking. They can still scare the pants off me though. That’s why I was planning to go home tonight. I’m booked on a flight—’

  ‘You can’t go, Sandy,’ Connie interrupted. ‘You really can’t walk away from this. I need you. RECAP needs you. The legacy of Paul’s work needs you.’

  Jones sighed.

  ‘You could at least call Ed,’ Connie encouraged.

  ‘What if his call records are being checked? Or the phone bugged, even?’

  ‘And you accused me of getting carried away with conspiracy theories?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Look, we seem to have an enemy. We do not know for certain who that enemy is, but we believe there are at least some people involved who are part of the very fabric of this country, and quite possibly at the highest level. We don’t know what information they have access to, but we suspect it may be extensive.’

  Connie smiled. ‘I like it that you’re saying “we”, Sandy. You’re not going home then?’

  Jones grunted. ‘I suppose not. Not today anyway. I must be mad.’

  ‘You and me both then, but I’m more used to the label. They don’t have CCTV in private cars yet. Marion could drive you back to Princeton.’

  ‘Simple as that, eh? Well, if Marion’s going to drive me why doesn’t she do the entire thing? Go and see Ed. Talk to him. Pick his brains.’

  ‘Because she’s not a scientist. It has to be you, you’re the only person who might be able to recognize that missing piece of the jigsaw. Apart from me, of course. And I’m dead. In any case, you’re one of the few people Ed would trust.’

  ‘Really? You mightn’t say that if you’d witnessed his recent reaction to me.’

  ‘Ah. He would still trust you, though. With something as important as this anyway.’

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not. But what if his flat is being watched?’

  ‘How about this. Marion calls on him and sets up a meeting with you. Somewhere anonymous. Marion’s the widow of a former university dean, for goodness sake. No reason why she shouldn’t call on Ed.’

  Jones thought for a minute.

  ‘I’m British and high profile,’ she said. ‘They’ll bully me, but I don’t think they’ll harm me. You know what, if Marion gets involved, apart from her maybe being put in danger too, her involvement could more easily lead to you, I reckon. Then you could really die.’

  Connie curled her legs up onto the sofa and narrowed her eyes.

  ‘I’m a cat,’ she said. ‘I’ve got nine lives.’

  ‘Yeah, and you’ve just used eight of them, all in one go.’

  Jones glanced towards Marion.

  ‘Look, can I borrow your car?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course you can. But don’t you think you might be underestimating how dangerous this could be for you, too? If you got picked up again, it mightn’t be as simple as you think.’

  ‘Everything seems dangerous right now,’ Jones responded. ‘I have one small advantage – I know Princeton like the back of my hand. I think I can contact Ed without being spotted.’

  ‘Really?’ Marion sounded doubtful.

  Connie touched her hand.

  ‘How long have you two been together, anyway?’ Jones asked suddenly.

  ‘It depends upon what you mean by together. In our eyes it’s coming up twenty-three years.’

  ‘Jesus,’ said Jones. ‘So you were an item back when I was at Princeton. How the devil did you manage to keep it a secret?’

  ‘The way to keep a secret is to tell no one, and that really means no one.’

  Connie was still looking at Marion.

  ‘It hasn’t always been easy,’ she said. ‘But it’s sure been worth it.’

  ‘Didn’t you ever want to say to hell with it? You of all people, Connie. When have you ever cared a jot about convention, about what other people think?’

  ‘That wasn’t it, Sandy. You don’t find happiness by walking over other people’s souls, you know.’

  ‘What?’

  Marion interrupted them.

  ‘Do you remember my husband, Sandy?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do.’

  ‘And how well would you say you knew him?’

  ‘I didn’t know him at all.’

  ‘Yet you met him many times? Socialized with him sometimes?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Yes. Well that’s pretty much how it was for me, really. Bernard lived and breathed Princeton. I never doubted that he loved me, and loved our children. He was never unkind. He provided and cared for his family. But well, he was twenty years older than me, of course, and he had different values. He had his job, as dean, and mine was to look after the children and our home. In a funny sort of way, we were never really that close.

  ‘Then, when I started to get to know Connie, well there was so much more. I don’t think I realized what was happening at first. I had never been with a woman before. But in any case, that was irrelevant. Connie’s gender was irrelevant. I just knew she was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with …’

  Marion leaned over and refilled Jones’s mug with more coffee.

  ‘But neither Connie nor I had any wish to hurt Bernard,’ she continued. ‘He didn’t deserve that, really he didn’t. There were young children to consider, and also his position as dean which meant so much to him. So Connie and I decided that our commitment to each other would be a private thing, that we would have our own secret life.’

  ‘But now? I mean, Bernard died years ago. Your relationship isn’t still a secret, is it?’

  ‘An open one,’ said Connie. ‘We have friends who know, of course, the remains of what family I have certainly know, and Marion’s children must know now, but—’

  ‘But they’re like their father – or rather the oldest one is,’ interrupted Marion. ‘Sometimes I think Thomas is more conservative than Bernard ever was. Even in this day and age he couldn’t cope at all with having a mother who is a dyke. Or, rather, a mother who is publicly known to be a dyke. I think he just pretends it isn’t happening. He prefers to think of Connie and me as friends. We’re old ladies, Sandy. I’m sixty-one, and Connie hits sixty-five next year. Well, in the eyes of the world we are pretty old, even if we don’t feel it. But we never expected what the younger generation expects. We still don’t expect to get everything that we want. And we’re not on a crusade. As long as we can be together that’s all we care about.’

  ‘Two more questions,’ said Jones, changing the subject only slightly. ‘Why does the Dominator call Marion Aunt M? And if he’s so rich why does he drive a yellow cab round New York?’

  Connie shrugged. ‘He’s not that rich. Bought his Medallion when he started wrestling so he had a day job. Got himself his own cab. Nowadays he just likes to keep his hand in, I guess. And he calls Marion Aunt M because she took him on as a foster kid when he was a mad bad fifteen-year-old from the Bronx and nobody else would have him. She sorted him out like you wouldn’t believe. Dom was never going to be a college kid, but he sure as hell got his life together thanks to Marion.’

  ‘Yeah, now he’s a mad bad thirty-five-year-old,’ said Marion, the pride in her voice belying her words.

  ‘I noticed,’ responded Jones.

  ‘Right, so now you have our
story, Sandy,’ said Connie, smiling. ‘Shall we get back to the matter in hand.’

  Jones called Soho House, authorized them to take payment from her credit card, and told them a friend would be along to pick up her bag. Marion had agreed to run the errand. Nobody knew who she was, and if they used Dom it was just remotely possible that someone might be watching, and he might be recognized from his wrestling days, or even just as the cabby who’d picked up Jones outside the House that morning.

  Jones left the apartment shortly after six p.m. She preferred to arrive in Princeton under cover of darkness, and in any case the timing suited her plan. First she sought out a cashpoint in central Manhattan. She then took out the maximum cash she could. Even if her bank records were checked all that could be learned was that she was still in Manhattan. That wouldn’t get anyone anywhere much. And she would be able to avoid leaving a trail to Princeton by not using credit cards at gas stations and so on.

  Marion’s choice of car was one of the most common in America. The unassuming saloon coasted along comfortably enough but appeared to have absolutely no acceleration. Pulling sharply onto Route One, the main freeway heading for the university town, Jones actually thought the box-like vehicle was going to tip over.

  The journey, sticking strictly to all speed limits, took almost two hours, including a stop for fuel and a visit to an electronics store, where Jones bought three untraceable pre-paid phones. Burners. One for her, one for Connie, and one for Marion. She ultimately coasted into Princeton just before eight thirty p.m.

  She drove straight to Ed’s apartment block, and parked a little way down the street, tucking in behind another vehicle. She hoped not to be noticed by anyone else who might be watching the building, whilst at the same time having a reasonable view of any comings and goings.

  Her intent was to approach Ed without being seen. And her plan was a simple one.

  Ed had been a creature of habit, already a man of routine, when she had known him. He’d told her, when she had so spontaneously paid him that not entirely successful visit, that he walked his dog every evening. She didn’t know when exactly, except that it would be some time after nine – he had said nine was too early – and almost certainly well before midnight. Ed had never been a night owl. She just hoped he was still the same person, and that, sooner or later, he would step out into the street with Jasper the little black terrier.