Raga Six (A Doctor Orient Occult Novel)

by Frank Lauria

  His mind was still gagging from the cloying vibration he had sensed around Sordi’s niece. The decadent fume of the mist. The old woman Mafalda could feel it. There is a cloud over Francesca, she’d said. She knew.

  It seemed to be taking a long time to get to Forio. He stepped on the accelerator. Pola, Janice, Presto, and now, Francesca. Probably others. What was Doctor Six invoking with his experiments? He felt a stab of anxiety slash through his belly when he thought of Raga. She was alone with him. And Pia. A shower of realization drummed at him like cold rain. Pia was a potential. Extremely sensitive to vibrational energy. Being that close to an alien, chaotic presence could unbalance her mind. She might well be suffering even more than Raga.

  Orient drove faster as he saw the lights of the town ahead. He knew what he had to do. He couldn’t afford to wait, do nothing except sign Francesca’s death certificate. He was certain now that his senses were absolutely accurate. Ahmehmet, Yousef, Mafalda, all of them had felt the influence. Ahmehmet had almost been prey for it on the Astral. And now it was up to him to pull the plug and drain this stagnant, unclean pool of predatory energy.

  But as he rolled slowly through the crowded streets of Forio, he still didn’t know how he would do it. He increased his speed at the outskirts of the village. Only one more town to go.

  It didn’t make any difference if Raga wanted to see him or not now. Orient had felt the suffocating scent around Francesca. He had to confront Six directly. For Raga’s sake as well. He leaned his head over the steering wheel, his face almost pressing against the windshield. He didn’t recognize any feature of the road.

  As he swung the car around a descending S-curve, he could see a cluster of lights far below and knew he was approaching Lacco Ameno. He was almost there when his brain tasted the foulness nearby. His instincts screamed a warning as the car entered a busy square. The traffic was thick and slowed Orient down to a crawl. He winced at the sudden oppression that pushed at his chest. Outside on the street people dressed in glossy fantasies of resort wear strolled between the cars, unaware of anything except their pre-dinner promenade.

  By the time he reached the end of town his thoughts were reeling from the stifling sensation in his lungs. He turned onto the street that led up the face of the mountain, away from the busy road along the sea.

  The road was steep and curved continuously. Orient noticed that the streetlamps were spaced far apart and the houses were fewer in number. There was no traffic on the road. Then he saw the street-lamps and house lights suddenly go out, plunging the area into darkness. The light from his headlights was sufficient, but it was impossible to see anything beyond their range. He saw a flicker of light in the shadows off the road, the faint glow of candlelight. He stopped the Car.

  He looked in the glove compartment and found a small flashlight. He switched it on and began walking toward the dim glow behind the trees.

  The light was coming from a small house. When he reached the door, he pushed the bell button. There was no sound. The electricity was dead. He knocked on the door. No answer. He knocked again. The third time he knocked he used the butt of his flashlight.

  "Chi e?" someone barked from behind the door.

  "I wish to see Doctor Six," Orient said loudly in Italian.

  "What?" The question was muffled.

  "Doctor Six."

  The door opened and a chubby, glowering man looked at him.

  "Who?" He growled impatiently.

  Orient repeated the question. The man shook his head. Then his face cleared. "Ah yes," he nodded his head vigorously and smiled. "Dottore Sei!" He held up six fingers.

  "Yes, that’s him. Is he here?" The man pointed up the road. "Two houses from here. On the left." Orient thanked the man and went back to the car. When he switched on the headlights, the blood in his face drained into his throat. Raga was running down the empty road toward the car, her face contorted with terror. When she saw the headlights, she put one arm across her eyes and lifted her other hand as if trying to signal the car.

  Orient gunned the motor and cut the distance between them, the tires squealing in protest as he brought the car to a lurching stop next to her.

  "Please," she was sobbing Italian, "you must help me. Take me to Lacco. Please." She leaned toward him over the side of the car. Her face was tear-streaked and Orient could see that her eyes were glazed and still half-blinded from the headlights. "Raga, what’s wrong?" he yelled.

  "Owen?" Raga’s face looked uncomprehending. "Owen, is it really you?" she peered through the darkness trying to see his face. "

  "Tell me what’s wrong. Get in." Orient leaned over and opened the door. Raga slid across the front seat and put her face next to his, still unable to see clearly. Then she recognized him and she sighed, falling against him in a half faint. He held her close, the sudden warmth in his arms unloosing a flood of emotions that drowned out his questions.

  She crooned his name and kissed his neck, her lips cool against his skin. Orient leaned back against the door and looked at her. "What’s wrong?" he asked softly. "What are you running from?"

  Raga’s eyes widened as her memory returned. "It’s Pia. I think Alistar is going to kill her. He came after me but I ran out of the house. But she’s still in there with him. He’s out of his mind."

  "Show me the way." Orient picked up the flashlight.

  "Owen, don’t. He’s insane. You don’t know what he’s been doing to himself all these years." Raga clenched her fist.

  "What has he been doing?"

  "He’s been experimenting with youth drugs. Injecting them into himself. He’s become like a madman. His reason has snapped, Owen. He’ll kill you if you go in there. Let’s get the police before he hurts Pia."

  "I’m going in there. Wait here."

  "No." Raga’s voice was flat and determined. "I’ll go with you. The lights are out in the house. It’s difficult to see." She put her face against his cheek. "Be careful, Owen, please. I’ve been longing for you since we left Tangier." Her breath caressed his ear. "And now you’re here."

  As she spoke, Orient felt a tug of fear at the base of his brain. A jumble of images tumbled into his mind, blurred and indistinct. He recognized Pia’s sensual pressure under the stricken urgency of the images.

  "We’ve got to get to the house." Orient pulled away from Raga and opened the door.

  As they got out of the car, the streetlights went on again and Orient saw the house a short distance ahead, through a row of trees. He started running toward it, disregarding Raga’s frantic cry to wait.

  The front door was wide open. He rushed inside.

  The living room was empty. He heard a noise and turned. Something heavy fell in the next room. Then he heard Pia yell. He went into the next room. It was empty.

  Then he saw the door. Orient ran to it, hitting it with his shoulder as he turned the handle. It flew open and he stumbled into a small laboratory. Pia was in a corner of the room, on the other side of some long worktables neatly lined with row after row of small bottles, struggling desperately with Alistar Six.

  The tall burly man had both her wrists in his big hands. He was holding Pia’s right arm against the wall with one hand and using the other to push her left hand back to her neck, forcing the point of the hypodermic needle she was holding back against her throat. She tried to open her hand and release the hypodermic, but his thick fingers gripped hers to the glass tube as he kept pressing his fist relentlessly back to her heaving throat.

  When Orient burst in, Six pushed Pia violendy to the floor and turned to face him. He crouched low and circled as Orient came toward him.

  "Get out of here," he panted, his words chopped short as he tried to get his breath. His large-featured face was flushed and sweaty and his eyes were bright with rage.

  "You, is it, Orient? What do you want here? My wife?" A choked laugh came up out of his throat. "Take her and be damned. Now get out."

  Orient stopped. "What kind of work are you doing, Doctor Six?" he asked
softly, his reflexes alert for any sudden move. Six laughed again. It occurred to Orient that he was slightly incoherent. Orient took a step toward him.

  "Your experiments, Doctor. Tell me about them."

  Six backed away, crouching lower. "Stay away," he hissed. "I can create immortality. Get out. You’ve no right here."

  "How, Doctor?" Orient kept his voice steady as he edged closer. "How can you create immortality?"

  "Owen!"

  At the sound of Raga’s voice Orient half-turned his head. In the same instant he saw Six in the corner of his vision, rushing at him. Orient dodged, but Six’s fist caught him in the back of the neck and he fell awkwardly, one leg trapped under Six’s heavy body. Another blow hit Orient’s groin, sending a sudden spasm of crippling pain blasting through his belly.

  Orient rolled over and was stopped hard against one of the tables, upsetting most of the bottles. A beaker splintered against the stone floor. Six lunged at him. Orient threw up his arms but he wasn’t quick enough. Six’s hands found his throat and his thumbs pressed down, crushing his windpipe. He couldn’t breathe and Six’s fingers were increasing the pressure. A red film covered Orient’s eyes like a haze of blood. His skull was singing and his lungs were aching, desperate for release. Orient’s hands found Six’s face and grabbed frantically. The red haze became rockets bursting in the blackness.

  "Alistar! Stop! Stop!" Raga’s screams were far away.

  Orient dug his fingers into Six’s and pushed. The pressured slackened but it was too late. The blackness was closing over the lights. He pushed again and felt Six’s head hit something. Just as he passed out, he shoved once more.

  CHAPTER 19

  The first thing Orient saw when he regained consciousness was a blur of yellow eyes in a soft white haze. Then the blur came into focus and he saw Raga, her stark face drained and worn with concern. When she saw him looking at her, relief broke across her high forehead, erasing the lines, and her eyes became moist.

  "Are you all right?" she whispered, gently putting her cheek across his face.

  Orient let the softness of her cool skin soothe his heaving thoughts. "I’m okay," he said. The words scraped painfully through his constricted throat, jogging his memory. He pulled back suddenly and looked around. "Where Alistar?" he managed. He tried to get to his feet but fell back heavily as the room swerved.

  "Just lie still, my darling." Raga was beside him again. Holding him close and brushing his neck with her lips, smoothing away the pain with her velvet mouth as she rocked him in her arms.

  Orient relaxed and the singing in his head faded away. He got up on one knee. "Alistar?" he said hoarsely.

  "He’s behind you." Pia’s voice came to Orient from across the room.

  He looked up. Pia was standing against the wall looking fixedly at something. Orient turned around.

  Alistar Six was lying on the floor, face up. His eyes were staring at the ceiling and there was a thin trickle of blood congealing on his temple.

  Orient turned to Raga. Her pale face didn’t change its expression of dazed pity. "He’s been lying very still for a few minutes," she said.

  Her voice was very low and Orient saw that she was on the edge of hysteria.

  He crawled across the floor and looked at Doctor Six. He checked his pulse and heartbeat. Nothing. The gray hair near his temple was matted with dark blood. "He’s dead," Orient said, his throat protesting with each word.

  Raga’s long fingers went to her mouth and she started to cry softly.

  "I’m glad you killed him, Owen."

  Pia’s flat voice jerked his head around, his neck throbbing from the sudden effort. Her words sent a cold wave of disbelief washing over his emotions. He looked down at his hands. They were trembling. He got to his feet and started weaving toward the door.

  "Where are you going?" Raga called out, her voice high with fright.

  "Telephone," Orient rasped. "Police..."

  "No, wait." The urgency in Pia’s voice stopped him.

  "Wait." Pia came toward him, walking very slowly. "Think Owen. Think of what it means to you. And Raga. They’ll never believe you."

  Orient tried to think. What Pia was saying made sense. But nothing else did. There was a faint buzzing sound in his ears. He stood swaying and struggling to control his breath. As his diaphragm opened for a long drink of air, the memory of pushing Six’s head against the table poured into his brain.

  "Let’s go into the other room," Pia was saying. "All of us."

  Orient nodded. He needed some time. He turned around. Raga was still crouched on the floor with her back to her dead husband, sobbing silently. He went back and lifted her carefully to her feet, then half-carried her into the other room, her slender body limp and weightless in his arms. Easing her down onto the long leather couch, he sat down next to her and held her close. As his breathing found its rhythm, his thoughts began to link. He looked up. Pia was staring at him, her face composed and very calm.

  "We’ll have to wait," she said evenly. "Perhaps one of the neighbors heard us."

  Orient had a sudden thought. "I think I left the car lights on," he said slowly. Pia stood up. "I’ll go check outside. Try to calm Raga down." She moved quickly to the door.

  As Orient watched her go, he was struck by her precise air of decision. What she said was true. The police would have to charge him with murder. And there was no evidence of what Doctor Six was doing. They would never believe him. At best they’d think he was insane. He would be separated from Raga. Because he murdered her husband. Then something occurred to him.

  The oppressive, unseen mist was gone. There was a faint trace of its bitter vibration still lingering but it was inactive. The foul presence had been dispersed. His depression lifted slightly and he began to consider possibilities. They would have to do something to conceal Six’s body. But it all depended on Raga. She was very still against him and Orient knew that she was trying to recover her strength. When she did, there was chance that she would denounce him. If it came to that, he decided, he would just give himself up.

  Pia came back into the room. "I turned off the car lights and locked the front door. It’s very quiet out there. I don’t think anyone heard anything. There wasn’t much noise." She sat down and looked at Raga, a frown of concern passing over her calm, chiseled features. "Is she all right?"

  Orient nodded. "Some shock," he said. "It’ll pass."

  Pia stood up. "I’ll get some brandy."

  Before Orient could answer, she was out of the room. He could see that Pia was maintaining her calm with great effort.

  The nervous energy inside her kept driving her to her feet in search of something to do. She came back with a bottle of cognac and three water glasses.

  Orient was glad she did. The burning smoky liquid warmed his throat and eased the throbbing ache in his neck muscles. Raga took a sip from his glass and it seemed to revive her. She looked up at him. Her eyes were bright and wet and tears were running down her pale cheeks. Her silver hair was blown about in disorder and she looked frantic with worry. "I don’t want anything to happen to you." Her husky voice was measured and tense. "Not anything."

  Orient brushed away her tears. "It’s all right," he whispered. He looked at Pia.

  She was sitting back in her chair watching them, her face devoid of any emotion. "What do you want to do with Alistar’s body?" she asked tonelessly, as if she were inquiring about the price of a dress.

  "I don’t really know yet."

  Raga’s hand clutched his arm. "We’ve got to hide it." Her voice sounded alarmed. "Isn’t that right, Owen?"

  Orient shook his head. His mind tried to find justification for Six’s death but all it could claim was confusion and doubt.

  "I know where we can put him," Pia said.

  "Where?" Raga leaned toward her. "Outside?"

  Pia shook her head. "Downstairs."

  "Why was Alistar trying to kill you?" Orient asked her suddenly.

  Pia turned and looked
at him, her green eyes remote. "Because he was insane. He wanted to kill Raga and marry me. When I told him I wanted to go away, he tried to kill me."

  "What kind of work was he doing?"

  "At first I thought he was treating me for anemia. Then I found out Alistar had been injecting me with a rejuvenation serum. He said he was going to make me live forever."

  "Did he kill Janice and Presto?"

  Pia’s eyes widened. "Presto?" she asked softly. As she spoke, the calmness dissolved and she slumped in her chair. "He was just a boy. He was trying to help me."

  "Did Alistar kill him?" Orient repeated softly.

  "I don’t know for sure. I think so but I just don’t know. When Alistar found us in Marrakesh, Presto had become sick, he was very weak. Alistar said he’d been taking drugs. He wanted just to leave him there at the hotel, but I insisted on bringing him to a hospital. I wanted to wait, but Alistar insisted on leaving for Tangier. He hated Presto for taking me away." She shivered and folded her arms.

  "Do you know anything about the serum he developed?"

  Pia shook her head. "It was something strange. A blend of aromatic herbs. I wanted to stop taking it. I was becoming half-crazy, I couldn’t sleep."

  Orient’s thoughts tumbled through his brain. He knew that aromatics, the science of the effects of different essences and scents on the human body, went back to the Egyptians. It was the basis of their medicine. Their purpose was to achieve certain vibrationary levels using essential animal and plant odors. But how and why did he kill Janice and Presto?

  "What about Janice?"

  Pia dosed her eyes. "I don’t know. Alistar said he was treating her for the same disease I have, Guglielmo’s syndrome. It’s a red cell disease. He said that she probably couldn’t be saved but he wanted to try. To help me."

  "I’d like to see the serum he developed," Orient said.

  Pia got up. "I’ll show you."

  Orient poured some more cognac for Raga before following Pia into the laboratory.