‘It’s not as easy as that. I have to prove it, for sure. But I have to prove it so publicly and so convincingly that Slyman won’t dare to come near me any more. Either that, or—’
‘Either that or what?’
‘Either that or I do unto him what he’s been trying to do unto me, and make sure that I do it first.’
‘Conor, you’re Irish. You should know better than anybody else that violence never solved anything.’
‘Sitting on your duff waiting for the sky to fall in, that never solved anything either.’
Conor and Sidney spent the next forty-eight hours closeted together in one of Sebastian’s bedrooms, with the shades pulled down. Sidney put Conor in and out of trances so often that he didn’t know whether he was sleeping or waking. Time seemed to flicker past like a landscape seen from a train, with frequent plunges into the blackest of tunnels.
Sidney taught him how to induce hypnosis in other people – how to speak more softly when he wanted to engage the listener’s closer attention, how to speak more slowly when he wanted a listener to think more carefully.
He taught him how to use subtle cues to make his subjects behave the way he wanted them to – how to move his head to the left when he talked about livelier things; and how to move his head to the right when he talked about sleep, and comfort, and trance – so that after a while his subject would automatically learn to relax when he inclined his head to the right, and perk up when he inclined to the left.
‘For most people, going into a trance is a pleasant surprise. They think that they direct their own associative processes, like a bus driver directs a bus. But most mental activity is autonomous, and when you persuade people really to relax – not to talk, not to move, not to make any sort of effort – not even to listen to you talking if they don’t want to – they’re totally amazed to discover that their mental processes go on flowing all by themselves. This is what trance is.’
From time to time, Ric or Eleanor would come in with mineral water or fruit juice. Sidney wouldn’t allow coffee because it was too stimulating. They ate nothing but sandwiches which Eleanor and Ric made for them. Ham, cheese, salad and plenty of apples and bananas.
There were no clocks in the room, and they would take a break whenever they felt like it.
Toward evening, at the end of the second day, Conor was trying to persuade Sidney to relax when Sidney suddenly said, ‘You’ve got it. You can do it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean that you can hypnotize almost anyone.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Because – just now – you almost managed to hypnotize me. You’re a very good student.’
‘I’m flattered.’
‘You don’t have time to be flattered. You can induce a hypnotic trance, yes. But now you have to learn how to be resistant yourself. You have to learn what a hypnotist is trying to do to you, and make sure that you deflect him. You remember that taxi driver? You think of him. Whatever you said, he didn’t directly contradict, but he kept steering the conversation the way he wanted it to go. If you believe that somebody is trying to hypnotize you, you can resist them by externalizing your thoughts. Don’t try to think about it as an inner struggle, or a mental wrestling match, because the moment you concentrate on what’s going on inside of your mind you’ve already lost.
‘Don’t pay any attention to what the hypnotist is saying to you. Don’t answer yes or no, no matter how harmless his questions appear to be. If you do have to answer, say that you don’t understand the question and ask him to explain what he means. Put him on the defensive. Break up the pattern of his induction. And keep changing the subject. If he asks you what you enjoy doing, what makes you feel happy and relaxed, tell him instead about things that upset and irritate you and make you angry.
‘Interrupt him. Ask him irrelevant questions. “Where did you buy that sport coat?” “What time is it?” “Have you ever been to Delaware?” Don’t give him time to set up a trance-inducing rhythm of speech.
‘Beware of the double bind. You remember that I said to Eleanor, “Do you want to fall asleep now or later?” That question presupposed that, whatever happened, she would fall asleep. Your answer to a question like that should be, “I’m not going to fall asleep at all.” Not, “I don’t want to fall asleep,” or, “I wasn’t planning on falling asleep.” Don’t even consider sleep as an option.
‘Keep up a high level of physical activity. Take quick, shallow breaths. Walk about. Sit down, and then immediately stand up again. Walk out of the room, if that’s possible, and walk back in again. Move close to the hypnotist and then quickly move away again, so that he has to keep refocusing his eyes. Turn your head away from him, look someplace else. Go round behind him.
‘Watch for any distracting touches or repetitive movements. Don’t shake hands, whatever you do. In fact don’t allow him to touch you in any way – a hand on the shoulder, anything.
‘Most of all, don’t ever try to resist a skilled hypnotist on his own terms. Don’t try to out-think him, because to do that you have to keep still and concentrate and that’s just what he wants you to do. Now … let’s try that in practice.’
Shortly after 11 p.m., Sidney said, ‘I could use a drink. How about you?’
‘You mean we’re finished?’
‘For now. You’ve got a good handle on the theory. All you have to do now is keep practicing.’
‘Who should I practice on?’
‘Anybody you like. Passers-by. Store assistants. Bank tellers. Friends. Enemies. You’ll soon get to the point when you can put people into a trance in the middle of an ordinary conversation. I was at a mental health convention in San Diego once, and I saw a clinical hypnotherapist put a consultant pyschiatrist fellow diner into a trance during dinner. He ate all the best pieces of steak off the fellow’s plate and then he said, “You’re feeling so full … you really enjoyed that steak,” and then he woke him up.’
They stood up and stretched. Conor put his hand on the doorknob but before he turned it he said, ‘I don’t know how I’m going to thank you for this, Sidney. I wish there was something I could give you in return.’
‘You already have,’ said Sidney. ‘You brought my Eleanor back to me. Just go find Hypnos and Hetti and then we can have a chance to make up for some of the time we missed.’
Lacey called him from her friend Trina’s loft in the Village. ‘That Lieutenant Slyman came around to see me again this evening.’
‘Oh, yes. What the hell did he want?’
‘He said he had a proposition to make to you. He said maybe you could find a way to get in touch with him.’
‘Did he give you any idea what kind of proposition?’
‘No … but he said you would be very foolish not to consider it. He said it would be a way out for you and a way out for him.’
‘Oh, yes? I wouldn’t trust Drew Slyman to hold his breath underwater.’
There was a pause, and then Lacey said, ‘I’m missing you, Conor. I’m really missing you. If you can please find some way of working this out.’
‘I’m trying, you know that.’
‘But it’s taking so long. I wish I could see you. I’d do anything just to touch you again.’
‘Maybe you can. Let me ask Sebastian about it. If you can make sure that you get here without being followed …’
‘Oh, Conor – please – if I only could. I won’t let them follow me this time, I promise.’
Sebastian was sitting opposite him, frowning at some intricate needlework. ‘You want to know if Lacey can come over,’ he said, without looking up.
‘Do you mind? I’ll make sure that nobody follows her.’
‘Lacey was a friend of mine long before you were, dear heart. Of course she can come over.’
‘You know there might be some risk?’
‘Getting up in the morning is a risk. You should know that more than most people.’
She arrived shortly after midnight,
wearing a gray linen coat that she had borrowed from Conor’s closet and a pair of stone-colored slacks. All her hair was tucked up into a black golfing cap, and she also wore heavy tortoiseshell glasses. She was breathless as Sebastian let her into the hallway.
‘I did everything you told me … I got into a taxi and out of the other side … I doubled back on myself. And guess what I did – I even went into the men’s room at the Inter-Continental.’
‘Yes, I’ve been there,’ said Sebastian. Lacey gave him a long, affectionate hug. Then she turned to Conor. She took off her cap and shook her hair free.
‘Well,’ she said.
There was a moment when Conor felt as awkward as if they were strangers. ‘It seems like forever,’ he said, and he came forward and took her in his arms and held her tight.
‘Your bruises are beginning to fade,’ she said, touching his cheeks.
‘Still pretty colorful.’
‘Colorful,’ mocked Sebastian. ‘That’s an understatement. You look as if you’ve been made up by Henri Matisse.’
‘I’ve brought your mail,’ said Lacey. ‘And Paula’s lawyers called to say that they’ve taken out a formal injunction to prevent you from seeing Fay until further notice.’
‘Jesus. As if I’m going to take her to the zoo while Slyman’s trying to hunt me down. Any news about Darrell? Did you manage to call the hospital?’
Lacey nodded. ‘He’s still unconscious. I wasn’t family so they wouldn’t give me any kind of prognosis.’
Conor led her through to the living room. Eleanor had already gone to bed, but Sidney was still up, playing a last game of chess with Ric.
‘Sidney – Ric – this is Lacey.’
‘Pleased to make your acquaintance,’ said Sidney, holding out his hand.
‘You watch that handshake,’ Conor warned her. ‘Sidney is a world-class hypnotist.’
‘I think he’s been hypnotizing me while we’ve been playing this game,’ Ric complained. ‘I keep putting myself in such ridiculous positions. Not like me at all.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ said Sebastian.
Ric got up from the couch, took Lacey’s hand and kissed it. Then – still holding her hand – he stared into her eyes and said, ‘You’re an Aries, aren’t you?’
Lacey shook her head in disbelief. ‘How did you know that?’
‘I only had to look at you. Strong, wilful, determined, passionate, but inclined to sentimentality, too. Besides, we were talking about star signs the other night and Conor told me you were.’
Sebastian opened a bottle of his latest favorite wine, a 1996 August Sebastiani Zinfandel. He liked it because it tasted of watermelons and flowers, but most of all because it had the same name as him. They sat around and drank and talked until well past 1:30.
Lacey had no more news about Lieutenant Slyman’s proposition, but she still believed that Conor ought to hear what it was, at the very least. Conor, on the other hand, had seen what Slyman was capable of. He had seen the awkward, bloodstained bodies of a senior mafioso’s wife and six-year-old daughter, shot dead while they were out on a picnic. He had investigated the murder of another capo, garrotted with a flexible saw while he was sitting by his dying father’s bed in the New York University Medical Center. There had been at least six or seven more ‘birdies’ – that was what the Golf Club called them – but no witnesses who were willing to put the finger on Slyman in open court and insufficient forensic evidence to carry a conviction without them. The Golf Club had friends in the medical examiner’s department, too.
‘At least the Mafia have honor,’ said Conor. ‘Drew Slyman doesn’t know the meaning of the word. The only proposition I’m interested in is if he admits that I’m innocent.’
They went to Conor’s bedroom and closed the door. Lacey took off her coat and then sat on the end of the bed to take off her shoes and socks. The room was lit by a single pink-shaded lamp on the night-stand. It made Lacey’s hair shine and it sparkled in her eyes. She took off her pants and then she was standing in front of Conor wearing nothing but one of his white shirts.
He took her in his arms and kissed her. ‘You’re shivering,’ he said.
‘I’m just nervous, I guess. This whole thing has frightened me so much.’
‘We’ll work it out, believe me. We’re going to try to find Hypnos and Hetti tomorrow – and once we’ve done that, all our problems will be solved.’
He loosened her necktie and unbuttoned the top of her shirt. ‘I’m not so good at this. I never undressed a man before.’ She reached up and took hold of his wrist, and cupped her hand over her breast. She wasn’t wearing a bra and he could feel the stiffness of her nipple through the thin white cotton. ‘I’ve missed you so much,’ he breathed.
She kissed him back. She gave him little quick gasping kisses at first, but then they became much greedier. She opened her mouth wide and pushed her tongue in between his teeth. Their tongues fought while they stared at each other with intense, wide-open eyes.
They didn’t speak. There wasn’t any need. She pulled open the last few buttons of her shirt and pushed it back over her shoulders, so that it dropped onto the floor. She was wearing nothing underneath but a tiny white lace thong. Her breasts were disproportionately large and heavy for a girl so slim, with wide areolas the color of faded pink rose petals.
They toppled sideways onto the bed. Conor pulled off his clothes, kicking his pants away from his ankles. Lacey moaned and kissed him more urgently. He squeezed and fondled both of her breasts but that wasn’t enough for her. She cupped her breasts in her hands and squeezed them until they bulged through her fingers, rubbing her nipples through the dark fur on his chest.
‘I want you,’ she mumbled. ‘I want you, I want you, I want you.’
She ran her hands down between his legs. She pumped his penis lustfully up and down. Then she rolled over and knelt beside him on the patchwork comforter and took him into her mouth. Conor couldn’t stop himself from letting out a deep groan of pleasure. Through the flying tangle of her hair, he could just about make out her pink lips encircling his purple glans and her tongue licking and swirling and circling until his penis glistened with her saliva. She bent down even further and took his balls into her mouth, gently tugging and sucking them. Conor was so tense that his chest and stomach muscles were as hard as fists and his toes were tightly curled.
Just when he felt that he wasn’t going to be able to hold himself back any longer, Lacey stopped sucking him and sat up, her eyes dreamy and her mouth half open in pleasure. She sat astride him, bending forward to kiss him so that her breasts swung against his chest. Then she sat up straight again, and tugged aside her thong, revealing her blond-haired vulva with its moist coral-pink lips. It was plain from her wetness that she was already highly excited, even though Conor normally found that she was very slow to be aroused.
She took his penis in her hand and guided it between her legs. Then, with a long lascivious shudder she sat down on it, until it was sunk as deep inside her as it possibly could be. She rode up and down it, rhythmically and elegantly, her head flung back, her hair flying, her eyes closed, her breasts performing a swaying, complicated dance of their own.
She went on and on. Conor had never known her to make love with such eloquence.
But suddenly, when he was close to climaxing, she stopped, and let her head drop forward like a broken marionette.
He reached out and touched her shoulder. ‘What’s the matter?’ he panted.
She pulled her tangled hair aside and looked at him and shook her head. ‘I can’t do it … I can’t get there … I keep getting right to the edge and then I can’t.’
‘Do you want me to help you?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Stanley taught me hypnosis. I can help you.’
‘You’re kidding me, aren’t you?’
‘No, I’m not kidding. Just say the word.’
She was silent for a long, long time, just looking at him
. Then she nodded, and eased herself up a little, and down again, and up.
‘You remember that time in Albany?’ he asked her. ‘The time you came to that police convention? We were supposed to go to that memorial dinner but we spent the whole evening in bed?’
She nodded again, still easing herself up and down.
‘You remember how good that felt? That felt good, didn’t it? You can feel that way again. In fact, you’re beginning to feel that way now.’
‘I am?’ Lacey murmured. Then, ‘I am.’
‘You’re feeling more pleasure than you thought was ever possible. You feel as if your skin is tingling … as if every inch of your body is being stroked … your forehead, your lips, your shoulders. Your breasts are being stroked, too, and you have a sensation in your nipples unlike anything you’ve ever felt before.
‘Fingers are trailing down your back and around your hips. They’re so light that you can barely feel them but they’re very, very exciting. Someone’s stroking your thighs, all around your knees and then up between your legs …
‘And
‘Every part of your being … is concentrating itself … tighter and tighter … darker and darker …’
As Conor murmured on and on, his voice seemed to caress her just like the fingertips that he was describing. She closed her eyes and her head gradually tilted back. Sweat beaded her forehead and slid between her breasts. She moved up and down on Conor as if she were weightless, her internal muscles going through the most complicated spasms. Conor was so close to a climax himself that he found it difficult to speak coherently, but he managed to continue in a series of gasps.
‘And now you’ve reached that point … that ultimate point where you can’t reduce your being any more …
‘And
‘You’re going to explode.’
There was an instant when Lacey stopped. She stayed frozen, her head still tilted back. Then she let out a soft cry and her body began to shake. She shook more and more violently, clawing at the comforter with both hands.
Holy Terror Page 15
