Forest of the Mind (The Book of Terwilliger 1)

by Michael Stiles

  Li laughed. It was a rather big laugh for such a small person, Alice thought. She wanted nothing more than to wipe that smile off his face. “A telephone, I can help you with,” said Li. “How would you like to speak to your brother?”

  Alice frowned. What was the trick? “No,” she said, “he always asks to borrow money.” There wasn’t any real chance Li would let her talk to Danny, and she refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d gotten her hopes up.

  “I haven’t been able to reach him, and he hasn’t bothered to contact me,” Li said, more firmly. “He seems to have forgotten about you. So we are going to find him, you and I, and you are going to ask him to listen to reason. First, though, you will write down the name of every person he knows. Relatives, friends. Phone numbers and addresses. If you leave any out, it will be bad for you.” He smiled at her again in a way that made her feel sick to her stomach.

  The fear started to take hold of her once more. She didn’t believe for a second that Danny had abandoned her; more likely he was working on some ridiculous escape plan that would get them both killed. If she was going to do it, she had to do it now. Carefully, she slipped her fingernails under the edge of the ceramic floor tile she’d been working on. She had managed to pry the heavy tile loose—a prior occupant of the room had done a lot of the work already—and now she lifted it almost imperceptibly above the surface of the floor to get her fingertips underneath.

  “Once we are able to reach him, I will let you talk,” Li continued, leaning closer, “and you will say exactly what I tell you to say. If you deviate from my script, I’ll hand you over to Jin. Yes? Jin would like to get to know you better.” He ran one finger down the middle of her chest as he said this, then slid his hand across her belly to her waist as he moved in even closer. His foul breath and the feel of his hand on her body solidified her courage.

  She nodded, gripping the floor tile tightly behind her back. She was still convincing herself to make her move when Li straightened up quickly, took a step toward the door, then turned back to face her.

  “I will return in a few minutes. Jin is going to watch you in the meantime. Please don’t make him angry. I’ve told him he no longer needs to hold himself back.” He left, smiling to himself, and Jin entered.

  Jin’s lazy eye made Alice want to look away, but she forced herself to meet his good one. He leered at her as he leaned against the doorframe.

  Alice took a few deep breaths to steady herself. She had only one chance to get it right. Rising up onto her knees, she lifted up the tile and held it behind her back. It was square, about ten inches to a side, and weighed three or four pounds. The edges were sharp. She thought it might do the job, although her one-woman rebellion would be over very quickly if she gave Jin any time to react. “Mr. Jin,” she said quietly, unable to control the unsteadiness in her own voice. He would think she was afraid of him. She was happy to let him go on thinking that.

  “Hmm?” Jin pushed himself off the wall and moved toward her, watching her with his right eye while the left one meandered here and there. Alice adjusted her grip on the tile. He was almost close enough—

  A noise like firecrackers erupted down the hallway. Jin spun around to look down the hall; Alice lost her grip on the tile and dropped it. Any sound the tile made as it fell was drowned out by the noise outside. Girls were screaming, and some of the men, too. The girls were running past the open door away from the noise, some in lingerie and others wearing nothing at all. A large man with a bare white ass ran past, his rolls of fat jiggling humorously.

  Alice clenched her teeth, picked up the tile, and crept up behind Jin. He was still facing away from her, peeking around the doorframe to see the source of the sounds. She hefted the tile once, swung it around with all her strength, and hit the side of his head so hard that his face bounced off the wooden doorframe. He dropped to the floor like a rag doll, and Alice took her turn to peek into the hallway.

  She found herself face to face with a man dressed like a commando, wielding what looked like a military rifle. He looked down at her. They stood there for a long, terrifying moment. Then he turned and walked back down the hall toward the stairs, stepping over the bodies of Li’s henchmen on his way out. Two others, dressed and armed just like the first, came out of rooms nearby and followed him down the steps.

  There was a very long silence, punctuated by a few sobs from the few girls who hadn’t run away. Still holding her ceramic tile, Alice worked up her courage once again and stepped out into the hallway. Nobody shot her. She recognized the faces of two of the dead men as she stepped over them.

  As she passed a bathroom on the ground floor, she paused and looked inside at a body that lay face-down on the floor beneath a small window. There was a broad, wet smear of blood running from the windowsill down the wall to the body. The face was not visible, but Alice recognized the pinstriped suit and the diminutive size of the corpse. He must have been trying to escape through the window when they’d found him. Alice looked at the body for a moment, then turned away.

  Dazed, she made her way down the hall to the front door. The door hung at a strange angle, its hinges broken. It was dark outside, and she realized distantly that she had no idea what time it was. The night was warm and humid. She went out.

  41

  A Man Selling Trinkets

  Kajdas was in the middle of brushing his teeth when the doorbell rang three times in quick succession. He spat out the toothpaste and called out, “One minute!” Drying his face, he put on a robe and went to open the door. He’d been expecting this visit for a long time, had thought of a number of things to say, but now he couldn’t recall a single one of them.

  “Ed,” he said, “what brings you around these parts so late?” He did his best to sound cheerful, but all he heard in his own voice was exhaustion.

  Ed stepped inside, looking disoriented. He was looking healthy, although his hair had grown into a tangled mess and his beard didn’t suit him. “Need to talk,” he said.

  Kajdas glanced outside before closing and bolting the door. Ed appeared to be alone. “Where have you been? We—I’ve been looking for you for months.”

  Ed spun around to face him. His eyes looked feral. “Don’t play games with me. I want some answers. No more games.”

  “Go ahead,” Tom said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Want to sit down?”

  Ed spluttered for a moment, unsure how to respond. He’d come here seeking a fight, but was thrown off by Tom’s refusal to engage him. An old technique of Tom’s, designed to keep his enemies disoriented, but it worked on friends just as well. Ed allowed Tom to guide him to the living room couch.

  “Before you get started,” Tom said, “I owe you an apology. A whole bunch of them, as a matter of fact. You’ve figured out by now that your memory loss didn’t happen by accident?”

  His forthrightness had the effect of putting Ed even further off-balance. “Yes.”

  Kajdas leaned forward in his seat. His regret was genuine; he hoped that showed through. “I know that was a terrible way to repay you for your help. But you should know that it was Mr. Wensel who ordered it. This won’t mean much to you right now, but I fought for you. I tried to convince Albert to remove only what he had to. He took more than he said he would.”

  “He took everything,” Ed said numbly.

  “I know. He was afraid you’d share too much information with people like Miss Greenbaum.”

  “What did you do to her?”

  “Albert’s men tried to bring her in last June, same day they got you. She escaped. No one’s seen her since.”

  Ed glared at him. “Why should I believe that?”

  “I have no proof. Just my word. If I knew where she was, I’d tell you.”

  Ed studied the floor for some time.

  “The tracking device was my idea,” Tom continued. “In case you got into more trouble.”

  “Thoughtful of you,” Ed mumbled.

  “Have you managed to re
gain any of your lost memory?” Ed looked up, suddenly tense. Kajdas had tried to ask the question casually, but Ed didn’t seem to be taking it that way. A tactical shift was needed. “I have the other half of your money.”

  “Other half?”

  “I had to use some of it for your bills and whatnot,” Tom continued. “But the rest is here.”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  “It’s not mine.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why did you tell me Eleanor’s killer was dead?”

  Tom froze. That was one question he hadn’t been expecting. How did he know? What else did he know? Without knowing the limits of Ed’s knowledge, fabricating a consistent story would be close to impossible. He had to shut down the conversation until he knew where Ed was getting his information. “Ed,” he began, “I’m sorry, but all I can tell you is that he was taken someplace where he couldn’t hurt anyone else.”

  Ed’s eyes bored down on him. “Where?”

  Time to be firm. “He was wanted for several crimes, including Eleanor’s murder. The nature of his crimes required that he disappear completely. That meant I had to lie to you about his death. I can’t tell you any more.”

  “How long had you known him before it happened?” Ed pressed. His eyes had taken on a frightening intensity, and he was leaning so close that Tom could feel spittle spattering his face when he spoke. “What were you trying to hide by beating him with that shovel?”

  “Enough!” Tom leapt to his feet. Someone had broken faith. Someone who had been there. He would find out who it was, but first he had to deal with Ed. “I don’t know what you’re suggesting―”

  Ed pulled out a gun he’d had hidden somewhere on his person, cocked it and aimed it at Tom’s chest.

  “Tell me where he is,” Ed said.

  Kajdas kept his hands in plain sight. “Take it easy. This is me you’re talking to, okay? I’m only trying to help you.”

  “Fine. But if you decide to stop helping me, I’ll blow your brains out. Got it?” An obvious lie. Kajdas knew Ed didn’t have it in him. But he nodded anyway; best to humor him for now. “I’m going to ask you once more,” Ed continued. “Where is he?”

  “Same place we kept you,” Tom said. “Santa Rosa Hospital.”

  Ed hesitated. The gun barrel sank a couple inches toward the floor. If Tom had wanted to disarm him, it would have been easy as pie. “He was right there? All that time?”

  “Not in the area where you were. His area is more... secure.”

  “Can you get in?”

  “It won’t do you any good to see him. He doesn’t respond to anybody. Hasn’t for a long time. Just sits there like a rock.”

  “I don’t need him to talk to me. Take me there.”

  A plan began to form in the back of Tom’s mind. “It’s been a long day, Ed. Can we sleep on this?”

  Ed scowled at him.

  “Okay,” said Kajdas, more an exhalation than a word. Nathaniel had outlived his usefulness anyway. “I need a pit-stop first.”

  After Ed allowed him to take a supervised pee, they got into Kajdas’ Electra, Tom in the driver’s seat. Kajdas, already at the end of a long day of work, was less than thrilled at the prospect of a long drive in the middle of the night, but Ed made sure he stayed alert. Ed sat in the passenger seat with the Ruger in his lap, watching him closely the whole time. The bright lights of Los Angeles faded to a silver glow on the horizon behind them, and before long the Electra was the only source of light in the vast darkness.

  * * *

  They arrived in Bakersfield at a quarter past three. Kajdas entered the guarded hospital grounds, drove past the nearly-empty main parking lot, and continued around to the south side of the largest of the buildings. He parked in an area that looked like a loading dock, around the corner from the bright lights at the main entrance, and got out to stretch his legs. Ed did the same, tucking the gun out of sight as he did so. “They know my car here,” Tom explained when he caught Ed’s quizzical look. “I can park pretty much anywhere I want.”

  “Just take me inside,” Ed grumbled. His head was aching, and he was long overdue for some sleep.

  Kajdas led him past a row of gray metal boxes, each with a huge padlock on it, to a side door made of solid steel, which he rapped with his car key. An irritable security guard opened the door and frowned while Kajdas spoke to him quietly. At first the guard shook his head, but Tom talked to him some more, and eventually the man let them both through and followed them inside.

  The corridors in this wing looked the same as those Ed had grown accustomed to during the time he could remember spending here: white-painted concrete walls and polished floors of green tile that reflected the harsh fluorescent lights. There was a smell of disinfectant that almost, but not quite, covered up an unidentifiable odor that was even less pleasant. Instead of proceeding down the main corridor, Tom turned left and walked to a single elevator that looked more like a service elevator than something a visitor should be using. The guard brushed past them and inserted a key into a slot next to the elevator door. They waited in uncomfortable silence for a minute or more, the guard staring at the wall while Ed and Tom both stared at the floor, and then the doors slid open.

  The guard stayed out in the corridor while Ed and Tom got on. Ed was surprised to see a keypad, like an adding machine mounted on the wall, in place of ordinary elevator buttons. Tom punched in a long string of digits, shielding the buttons from view with his body, and the elevator closed and jerked into motion. Ed felt his stomach rise up toward his throat from the speed of their descent. From the sour expression on Tom’s face, Ed gathered with some satisfaction that he was equally uncomfortable.

  The elevator stopped so rapidly that Ed feared his knees would buckle. The door opened to reveal a hallway that was dimly lit compared to the level they had just left. Instead of bright fluorescent fixtures on the ceiling, subdued incandescent lights ran along each wall. The floors were dull black tile, and the doors on both sides of the hallway were made of dark metal.

  Ed followed Kajdas almost to the end of the corridor, where they stopped in front of a steel door. “This is it,” Tom said. The echo of his words still hung in the air as he took a small key out of his vest pocket. He turned to look at Ed. “Are you sure you want to do this to yourself?” Ed nodded without taking his eyes off of the key, which Kajdas inserted into the door and turned with some difficulty. They went through into a small concrete-walled chamber, barely big enough for the two of them to stand together, and Tom removed his key and let the door slam shut behind them. Ed cringed at the deafening sound of the massive door latching shut. The sound took him back to the first day he’d awoken in his cell in this very building.

  In front of them was another door. This had a window in it which was covered by a plastic shade. Kajdas released a latch and slid the shade sideways. Ed looked through the PMMA window into a tiny, dark cell. The light that spilled into the cell was only bright enough to reveal the edge of a cot that appeared to be fastened to the floor.

  But it wasn’t all that dark in there, he realized. As he looked through the window for some time, he found there was enough light to see the whole interior easily. He could now see a man curled up on the cot. Ed couldn’t tell at first where the light was coming from. It appeared to shine most brightly on the man, or perhaps the man was the source of the light.

  “He’s in there,” Tom said behind him. “I’ll turn the lights on and wake him up.”

  “No, I can see him.” He moved closer to the window. “He knows I’m here; he can―” Ed trailed off. The man had sat up on his cot and looked up at the window.

  Ed had imagined being face to face with the killer since the day he’d learned of Eleanor’s death. Seeing the murderer made him feel like his guts were being tied in knots. He was very tall—Ed could tell this even though the killer was still sitting down—and had short, stubbly hair on his head. But what was most striki
ng was the vivid scar that marred his face. It began just above his left eyebrow, ran down across the socket of his missing eye, and ended at his upper lip. The skin around the scar was pocked and damaged, as though the wound had once been gravely infected.

  When he saw Ed at the window, he smiled. What remained of his teeth was a grotesque wreck of decayed enamel among swollen gums. Ed wanted to shrink back from the force of that terrible smile.

  Tom still had his finger on the light switch by the door. “You sure? You came all this way, might as well get the lights on so you can see him.”

  Ed merely shook his head. He was transfixed by Nathaniel’s smile, and the golden glow that illuminated the cell. The glow was becoming brighter with every passing second; he was sure now that it was coming from Nathaniel himself.

  “He doesn’t talk to anybody,” Tom said. “Just sits there and looks at you.”

  “He talks to me,” Ed murmured. The voice of the gnome was chattering in the back of his head. He couldn’t understand the words, but he knew its voice. It had been so long since he’d heard its voice. The glow increased until the killer appeared to Ed as a blazing ball of fire, emitting brilliant sparks in all directions. “Open the door.”

  He expected Kajdas to argue. But Tom reached past him, inserted a different key into the lock, and pushed the door open. “He’s all yours.”

  Ed stepped into the cell.

  “My good, good friend,” Nathaniel whispered. His smile grew even wider. Ed could smell it. “You came to rescue me.”

  “You’re not my friend.”

  “I’m your only friend.” Nathaniel drew a long, rattling breath. “Arthur thought the Prophet would be a girl, you know.”

  Ed took another step forward. “You took away everything I had.”

  “You have to understand death before you can show others what it means to live. I taught you death when nobody else would. Not Lester Myles, not Arthur, not the Guru. I brought about your calling. I made you.”