by Roy Johansen
At the far end of the hallway, the studio doors opened. Roth staggered out, helped by two production assistants.
He froze when he caught sight of Joe. The assistants tried to move him along, but he didn't budge.
Joe stared him directly in the eyes. He pressed the button and the elevator doors closed.
Joe left the building and climbed into his 4-Run-ner. Shit. It was his own damned fault; he never should have stuck around for the taping, especially not today. It wouldn't be the first time that his curiosity had gotten the better of him. Another goddamned thing he'd have to explain to Nikki.
He checked his watch. Lunchtime. He turned right and drove toward I-85.
Fifteen minutes later, he climbed the front stairs of Suzanne's house and rang the doorbell. She opened her front door, smiled, and pulled him inside. “Unbutton your shirt,”she said.
“Cool off, will you? I'm on my lunch break.”
“Very funny. Let me see the creepy mark.”
Joe slung his tie over his shoulder.”You realize that you're the fiftieth person to ask me that today.”
“So I'm unoriginal. Let's see it.”
He unbuttoned his shirt and peeled back the bandage.
She grimaced. “Looks like you had open-heart surgery.”
“I just had a thin layer of skin removed. I wanted the doctor to cut away as much as possible. It's the freshest sample we have.”
Suzanne picked up a digital camera and snapped a picture.
“For your scrapbook?”
“Hardly. I want to compare this against some other skin writings I've seen.”
“You have experience with this kind of thing?”
“Not exactly, but I once had a session with a spiritualist who did something like this.”
Joe pointed to the mark.”Like this?”
“No, but letters, numbers, and even names appeared on her skin during the séance. It was pretty eerie.”
He buttoned his shirt.”So how was it done?”
“It took a few visits, but I finally figured out that she had written on her skin with an allergen-laced wax just before I arrived. I met her at the door with an ultraviolet battery lamp and the letters lit up like a neon sign.”
He nodded. “Clever. So her body temperature softened the wax, which then released the skin irritant.”
“Yep. The letters appeared on her skin just long enough, until the next sucker came along.”She put down her camera. “But, as I recall, you're not a deep sleeper.”
“Not deep enough for someone to draw pictures on my chest without my knowing about it.”
“No.”She bit her lip. “There had to be another way.”
He sat down on the sofa.”I really didn't come hereabout this, Suzanne. I wanted to talk to you about Nikki.”
“I saw her yesterday.”
“Yeah, my dad told me. It's funny, but Nikki didn't even mention it.”
“I hope it's all right. There's been a lot on TV about you and the weird stuff that's been going on. I thought it might help Nikki if I talked to her about it.”
“Well, it worked. I think she's a lot better now. Thank you.”
“My pleasure. She's a great kid. I like your father too.”
“He didn't hit on you, did he?”
She smiled. “No. He couldn't stop talking about Carla. He's crazy about her.”
“Yeah, I guess he is. Miracle of miracles. He hasn't been serious with anyone since Mom died. Thirty years.”
“I'm happy for him.”
“Suzanne …”Joe took her hand.”I may have done a terrible job of showing it, but I feel the same way about you. I'd like you to spend some time with Nikki and me. Together. We always had fun. It felt right.”
“Yes, it did.”
“It can be that way again. Better even, because now I know it's the way it should be.”
“You're going to have doubts, you know. You're too much the skeptic to give in completely.”
“Probably, but there are issues in every relationship. You know, like leaving the toilet seat up, forgetting to take the garbage out, claiming to contact the dead….”
“The typical stuff.”
“I know I'm not perfect,”he said. “Before, when I couldn't deal with things, I just ran away from you. I promise I won't do that again.”
She smiled.”You'd better be sure about this.”
“I am, Suzanne.”He raised her hand and kissed her palm.”I really am.”
An hour later, Joe entered Sam's narrow downtown magic shop. Empty.
“Sam?”
“I'm here,”Sam called from the back room.
Joe walked back. “You should really put a bell or something on your front door. Anybody could just walk in and—”
“Hello, Joe!”a two-foot mannequin shrieked.
Joe stopped dead in his tracks. Sam stood in the middle of his storeroom. Beside him was a heavyset man with puffy cheeks who was holding the dummy.
“A ventriloquist,”Joe said. “You asked me here to talk to a ventriloquist?”
Sam nodded.”You wanted a sound expert, and this is the guy. Joe, meet Frank Webb.”
Frank extended his free hand. “Hiya, Joe. Nice to meet you. Sam tells me you've got yourself a knotty little problem.”
Joe shook his hand. “Uh, yeah. But I'm really not sure a ventriloquist is who I need to—”
“Hey, don't let the dummy throw you. I was just showing Sam my newest creation. His name is Colin.”
Joe looked at the dummy.”It looks like you.”
“Everybody says that, but it's purely unintentional. I was trying to make him look goofy.”
“You succeeded,”Sam said. “That's why he looks like you. Now, put Colin away and tell Joe what he needs to know.”
“All right, all right.”Frank placed the dummy in a molded carrying case. “My whole life has been about studying sound, Joe. I don't think a ventriloquist is behind your weird voices, but I still might be able to help you out.”
“I'd appreciate any insight you can give me.”
“There are all kinds of ways that sound can be ma-nipulated. You've heard about ventriloquists who can supposedly throw their voices.”
Joe nodded. “It's mostly about directing the audience's focus with your eyes and body language, isn't it?”
“Right. If you want to make it seem like a voice is coming from a trunk, you have to sell the idea with your expression.”
“Right.”
“Help! Let me out!”
Frank turned and stared at a large packing crate.
“Let me out of here, you dirty jerk!”
Joe smiled.”Very good. I didn't see your lips move.”
“That wasn't him,”Sam deadpanned.”That was the new kid I hired. I keep him in there between shifts.”
Frank turned back to Joe. “Now, in the past few years, there have been some interesting advances in audio-acoustical research. For about four hundred bucks, you can have a pair of Dolby Digital headphones that give the illusion of five speakers around you—three front and two rear.”
“All from two tiny earphone speakers?”Sam asked.
“Yessiree. Sound waves take on different charac-teristics depending on which direction they're coming from. It has to do with the shape of the ear, the curvature of your head, all kinds of stuff. Well, researchers discovered that by electronically altering those waves, they can fool your ears into thinking that sounds are coming from somewhere they're not.”
“But it still has to come from somewhere,”Joe said. “I scanned my room only seconds after I heard the voice. No magnetic coils.”
“Tell me, did the voice have a specific quality to it?”
“Other than the fact that it sounded like my dead wife's?”
“Other than that, yeah.”
Joe thought. “Her voice sounded …thin. Hollow, somehow. It was difficult to localize in the room, and it seemed to be moving in space.”
“Sam said you'd bring pictures.
Got 'em with you?”
Joe opened a manila envelope and spread out the photos on Sam's desk. “I have police photos of my place, Monica's hotel room, the recording studio, and every other place where victims claimed to hear voices.”
“Good.”Frank inspected the prints.
Joe leaned over the desk.”I've never seen them all together like this.”He froze. “There's one thing all of these locations have in common.”
Frank nodded. “You mean the glass window-panes?”
“Yes.”
“Joe, I might just have an answer for you.”
Haddenfield threw in one last box and slid the van door closed. He'd spent the afternoon packing up the observation center, and the higher-ups had been too pissed to send anyone to help him. Within a week, the testing center in South Carolina would be dismantled and he'd be on his own. Who needs 'em, he thought. Soon, with Dylan's help, he'd begin work in a state-of-the-art testing facility just outside Moscow. Funny how the Russians had always been ahead of the curve in psychic research, even when they couldn't afford to feed their people. If only his own government could be so open-minded.
Haddenfield pulled away from the curb and glanced up at Monica Gaines's hospital room window. He wanted to see her one last time, but there wasn't time. What in hell had happened to her? He'd made a horrible mistake by bringing his team to Atlanta, but he couldn't resist the opportunity to study Monica Gaines in action. Damn. If only he had resisted.
Fifteen minutes later, on the I-75 expressway, he glanced in the rearview mirror. A black Jeep Cherokee was behind him. He wasn't sure, but he thought it had been on his tail since he left the testing center. Shit. Was it the feds? He wouldn't put it past the military intelligence guys to put a tail on him. But why? As far as they were concerned, he was just an embarrassing failure.
He sped up. The Jeep also sped up, but not in an obvious way. It hung back several car lengths.
Was he just being paranoid?
He fumbled for his cell phone and looked at thetop panel. OF SERVICE AREA He'd used his phone here dozens of times. Either the system was overloaded, or …
He looked at the Jeep again. He'd heard that drug dealers could jam nearby radio and cell phone transmissions with a device no larger than a briefcase. It wasn't a stretch to think that a government agent would have the same capability.
Or Dylan. Had he found out?
Haddenfield stepped hard on the accelerator, but the Jeep didn't follow suit. Relief flooded through him. Maybe he wasjust being paranoid. Goddamned cell phones cut out all the time. Maybe it was just—
BLAM!
A small explosion rocked the front of the van, and the vehicle jerked hard to the right.
Haddenfield struggled with the wheel. Mother of Christ.
The side rail raced toward his windshield. No, no, no, no …
He crashed through the railing. Silence. Pieces of the broken railing floated in air in front of him as he hurtled downward.
Holy shit. He was going to die.
Impact.
He opened his eyes. Water everywhere, spilling into the van.
The vehicle lurched forward. He was in the river, he realized. And he was alive.
He struggled with the seat-belt latch, now entirely submerged. The smelly water tickled the underside of his chin. Jesus …
He gulped the one remaining pocket of air as hisvan plunged entirely underwater, rolling on the way down.
He was paralyzed. Snap out of it, he told himself. Get the hell out.
He pressed on what he thought was the seat-belt latch. Nothing. He jammed both thumbs downward, pressing everything and everywhere.
Success. He pulled free of the belt and tried to see in the murky water. No dice. He felt the passenger-side window's smooth surface and struck it with the heel of his hand. It held firm. Shit.
The door. Try the freaking door.
He pulled the handle. Locked.
His lungs ached. He couldn't last much longer….
This wasn't rocket science. Just unlock the goddamned door. But would the electronic locks work down here?
He fumbled for the lock and pulled. Was that the sound of the door-lock mechanism? He gripped the handle and pushed. The door was opening! A bit more …
He was free. He wriggled through the opening, frantically crawling for the surface.
Oh God, he thought. His lungs were starting to pump involuntarily. He might not make it.
Just another few seconds …
He finally broke through. Thank Christ.
He swam for shore. His leg felt numb. Cold. It was probably bleeding.
He didn't care. At least he was alive.
Joe, Howe, and Carla watched Haddenfield through the large observation window. He sat in Interrogation Room C, wearing a sweat suit that one of the duty officers had scrounged up for him. His hair was slicked back and his lips were trembling.
“He wanted tostay here?”Joe asked.
Howe nodded.”He's scared shitless.”
“Of what?”
“He won't say. But he thinks we're his only hope to stay alive.”
Joe studied him. Although the accident had occurred more than two hours before, Haddenfield was still shaking.
“We thought you'd want to take part,”Carla said. “You wanna go in with us?”
Joe nodded.”Definitely.”
They unlocked the door and silently walked into the interrogation room.
Haddenfield glanced up warily. “You're not gonna make me leave, are you?”
“We have no reason to keep you here,”Howe said. “There's nothing to suggest that your wreck was anything but an accident. Accidents happen all the time.”
Haddenfield glared at him.”This was no accident.”
“Why do you say that?”Joe asked.
“I'm not sure I can tell you.”
Howe slapped the table. “We don't have time for this shit. Tell us now, or we're tossing you back on the street.”
“You don't understand,”Haddenfield said.
Carla leaned close to him. “Then make us under-stand. What are you afraid of?”
Haddenfield threw his head back and stared at the fluorescent lights above. Tears welled in his eyes. “I can't fucking believe it. None of this was supposed to happen. I screwed up.”
“We can help,”Joe said.
Haddenfield shook his head. “Not likely. This is so out of your league.”
“We're all that you have,”Joe said.”Try us.”
Haddenfield finally looked down from the ceiling. “I'm fairly new to the parapsychology field. My background is in hypnotherapy.”
“Like to help people stop smoking?”Howe asked.
“Well, I was involved on the research end of it. In one of my studies, I noticed that the subjects'perceptions seemed heightened. Hypnosis affects all kinds of behaviors and thought processes, and I became intrigued by the idea that we might be able to develop psychic abilities through a series of hypnosis sessions.”
“That's what you were doing at the testing cen-ter?”Joe asked.
“Yes. I convinced the Defense Department to fund the study. I spent several months working on a hypnosis program that would foster psychic abilities.”
Joe wrinkled his brow. “Why did you use subjects who already professed to have psychic powers?”
“It was just one phase of the study. We thought we may be able to increase the abilities they already had, and at the same time, learn from them. If we could study them, we might pick up on things we could use on later phases of the study.”
“What were the results?”Carla asked.
Haddenfield sighed. “The early findings were inconclusive. I needed more funding to develop other variations of the program, but the Defense Department wasn't willing to go that far. When the study concluded, that would have been the end of it. I couldn't let that happen.”
“So what did you do?”Joe asked.
Haddenfield shifted uneasily. “Well, as you can i
magine, there would be enormous interest in the world's intelligence communities for this research. A Russian operative contacted me several weeks ago, and his government promised me a large budget to continue my research. I'd be allowed to conduct my study in a place of my own choosing. They promised me everything I could ever want.”
“You sold out?”Carla asked.
“Remember, by this time our government had no interest. But the Russians needed some indication that my system actually worked. Only then wouldthey be willing to fund more studies. So …”Hadden-field's eyes darted anxiously.”I arranged with some of my test subjects to improve their results.”
Joe stared at him in disbelief. “They went along with it?”
“Yes. Some of them are quite well known, but they've never had scientific validation. I promised to give them that if they went along.”
“Was Monica Gaines one of those involved?”Howe asked.
Haddenfield nodded. “We had all the best intentions. It was the only way to continue my research. Can't you see how important this is?”
“So what brought you here?”Joe asked.
“The agent—his name is Shawn Dylan—wanted to see Monica Gaines in action, working on an actual case. He wanted to show his higher-ups how her newly enhanced abilities could be applied to real-world situations. He influenced Councilman Talman to press for Monica's involvement.”
“Influenced with a one-hundred-thousand-dollar donation,”Joe said.
“I didn't ask,”Haddenfield said. “But after Monica was attacked, he was afraid that she would let on about our scheme. So he kept a close watch on her. This man caught and killed a member of my research team, but it was an accident.”
“An accident?”Carla was incredulous.
Haddenfield shook his head. “I haven't been able to think of anything else since. I was already nervous around Dylan, but then I was terrified that he'd find out that we were lying to him.”Haddenfield anx-iously bit his lower lip. “I think it's happened. I think he tried to kill me tonight.”
Joe, Howe, and Carla sat in silence for a moment, letting Haddenfield's story sink in.
“We're going to bring in this Dylan,”Joe finally said.”And you'regoing to help us.”
“You're gonna be my goddamned bodyguard, Dylan. You owe me.”
