Shooting Eros - The Emuna Chronicles: Complete Boxset: Books 1 - 3

by Benjamin Laskin

  “What kind of fraud? What was he posing as?”

  “Some kind of psychic. As I said, Ms. Veetal was, at that time, doing research for her doctorate degree. Her subject matter was related to the field of parapsychology. She had interviewed a hundred or more cranks who thought that they possessed some psychic ability or another, but the only one to fool her was this Cyrus character.”

  “Excuse me, Professor,” Baer said. “This being the case, why were you there?”

  “I told you, to expose him.”

  “But what did her research have to do with you?”

  “She’s my student.”

  “Then you approved of her doctorate thesis?”

  “Well, I wouldn’t say I approved exactly.”

  “But without you signing off on it she couldn’t have pursued the subject. Isn’t that so?”

  “I tried to talk her out of it, but she was very persistent. I knew it would be a huge waste of her time and skills, but in the end, I relented. I figured that she would have to find out the hard way. I proved correct, and she gave up on the folly.”

  “You don’t think she believes you undermined her?”

  “Frankly, I don’t know what she’s thinking. We don’t talk much these days. It’s a shame, but what can one do? You know women…”

  “Back to Mr. Cyrus being a fraud,” Baer said. “Did he ever claim to have any specific psychic or paranormal powers?”

  “Specifically, no.”

  “So, why was he even here?”

  “He said he ‘knew things.’ And he did. A lot of things. That’s why I got in touch with you people! He knew stuff that no one should be able to know—the smallest details of peoples’ lives, even mine. I will admit it was a bit disturbing, freaky even.”

  “But not psychic?”

  “Absolutely not. There is an explanation.”

  “And that is…?”

  “I was hoping that you’d be telling me, Mr. Baer.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “Of course. He simply said that he has a good memory. But a good memory wouldn’t explain things he should never have been able to know in the first place. I’m telling you, there’s something very fishy about that guy. He claims amnesia, but he remembers past events to the minutest detail, events in which he was not even present. He has no identity trail—no last name, no previous address, no social security number, no school records, nothing.

  “I mean, come on,” Matterson continued, “one need not be hysterical to admit that the word spy comes quickly to mind. He could be working for the SLA [Southern Liberty Alliance], or some other fascistic regime. You know what they tell us, ‘If you see something, say something.’ I’m just doing my patriotic duty. Don’t you think I was right in mentioning such a fellow to you people?”

  “I’m not those people anymore. I’m checking into this matter only as a favor.”

  “Oh, well, I didn’t know that. I just assumed…”

  “It was a valid assumption, Professor. Now, to continue, what would a spy want with Ellen Veetal?”

  “I don’t know but—excuse me if I sound narcissistic—perhaps he was merely using her to get to me.”

  “You?”

  “Please don’t embarrass me, Mr. Baer. But you’re here, aren’t you? You’re here because I have friends in high places. Furthermore,” he said, lowering his voice conspiratorially, “and this is strictly off the record, I may even have a place in the next presidential administration. You see…?”

  “So, he used her to get to you to get to a still un-elected president?”

  “Well, when you put it that way it sounds a bit implausible, I suppose. But, do you have a better explanation?”

  “Did Mr. Cyrus ever bring up religion with you?”

  “Huh?”

  “Did you two talk God?”

  “For God’s sake, man, what does God have to do with this?”

  “Did he?” Baer repeated.

  “Once, in passing, he said something ridiculous. He said he didn’t believe in coincidences, that he believed in God. Whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. Look here, Mr. Baer. Did you see that video I sent?”

  “No.”

  “Why the hell not?” Matterson said, irritated.

  “The file was corrupted.”

  “Corrupted? Well why didn’t anyone tell me? I’d have sent it again. Here,” he said, swiveling in his chair and waking his computer from sleep mode. He poked around into some folders on his desktop and located the video that one of his students had made of Cyrus’s ignominious entrance into the world. “Now watch this and tell me if it isn’t one of the damnedest things you’ve ever seen.”

  Matterson double-clicked on the movie’s icon. A message came up reporting that the file was damaged and could not be opened.

  “The hell!” Matterson exploded. “It worked just find before.” He tried again, but got the same message. “Hold on,” he said.

  The professor grabbed his cell phone, tapped and swiped, and then found what he was searching for. A minute later he had the student on the line.

  “Steven, it’s Professor Matterson. Listen, you know that video you put together for me? … Yeah, that’s the one. Somehow the file became corrupted. Could you please send me another copy? … Yeah, I’ll hold.”

  Matterson turned to Gideon. “When you see this, you’ll understand why I called you folks. And maybe then you’ll get off your fat asses and do some real investigating instead of harassing me.”

  He turned his attention back to the phone. “What? You’re joking! … Well how the hell could that happen? … Look, I don’t want to hear all that tech lingo, it means nothing to me. Can you fix it or not? … Well, let me know as soon as you figure something out.” He clicked off with a curse.

  “Something the matter, Professor?”

  “The original is corrupted too. What’s going on here?”

  “Some coincidence, eh?” Baer remarked.

  “I don’t believe in these kinds of coincidences,” Matterson retorted. “Someone is messing with me.”

  “God, maybe?”

  “With all due respect, Mr. Baer, don’t be a moron.”

  “Now, now, Professor, there’s no need for name calling.”

  Matterson ran his fingers through his hair and sucked in a deep breath. “Okay, Mr. Baer, just tell me. Did you meet with this Cyrus, or not?”

  “I did.”

  “And…?”

  “He was indeed a curious fellow.”

  “Ah-hah! See!”

  “But he is not a spy.”

  “Then what the hell is he?”

  “Just a lost soul.”

  “You mean crazy?”

  “Crazy is your department, isn’t it, Professor? Did it not occur to you that the man might simply be nutty?”

  “Of course he’s nutty,” Matterson said. “That’s obvious. But what about what he knows? Did you see him in action?”

  “I did. It was phenomenal.”

  “Okay, so you know what I’m talking about. Do you have an explanation?”

  “Sure. He’s eidetic,” Gideon Baer said.

  “What?”

  “He has a photographic memory.”

  Matterson shook his head. “No, no. I mean, fine, maybe he does have a photographic memory, but that would not explain how he knows things that he could not possibly have seen or heard.”

  “That,” Baer said, “is not my business. I was called to see if the man posed a threat to national security, and I will report, negative. The only plausible threat I have seen is the one to your love life, which, frankly, does not interest me in the least. As for his unique gift, that’s his business, not the government’s.”

  “But of course it’s the government’s business!” Matterson said. “Everything is!”

  “Which is one reason I no longer work for it,” Baer said, standing to take his leave.

  “And that’s that?” Matterson said, rising from his chair, his arms outstretch
ed in disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “Then I’m going to make another call. I’m certain that there are other, far more serious and competent people than you to look into this matter!”

  “No doubt, Professor. You do that.”

  Baer opened the door and left.

  Fuming, Chauncey Matterson slammed the door shut behind him.

  13

  Lunkhearts

  Gideon’s smirk vanished the moment he noticed a woman down the hall staring in disbelief at the floor, and the smashed, upside-down remains of a birthday cake.

  He approached the pretty coed whispering under his breath, the palms of his hands pressed together in the Oriental fashion of pleading forgiveness.

  “Oh no,” he said. “Did I do that?”

  Malkah Stern, dressed in jeans, white sweatshirt, and a daypack on her back, nodded, irked.

  “I was about to knock and so I only had one hand under the box,” she said. “I thought I heard a gunshot. Do you always slam doors when you leave a room?”

  “I seemed to have irritated the professor down the hall,” he answered, bending down to scoop the double-layered chocolate cake back into the box. “He chose to express his agitation by ushering me out with a bang. I’m very sorry.”

  Gideon stood back up and awkwardly handed her the culinary calamity. He got his first good look at the woman, and because of her intriguing, exotic beauty, had to resist the temptation to cock his head in wonder.

  His trained eyes elicited reflection on how the vision before him could, despite her devastating blue eyes, pass for a number of different nationalities or ethnic groups—Hispanic, Eurasian, Middle Eastern, and of course North American or European.

  “Which professor?” she asked.

  “Professor Matterson,” he said, withdrawing a bandana from his coat pocket. He bent down and began to wipe up the chocolate icing from the floor.

  She grinned. “You’re forgiven.”

  Gideon looked up and smiled. “A fan of his, I see. Is he one of your professors?”

  “No, I’m not a student here anymore.”

  “So you already graduated. Congratulations.”

  “Actually, I dropped out.”

  “Whoops. So not only did I drop the cake, I stepped in it too.”

  “No biggie,” Malkah said.

  Gideon rose, folded the bandana, and spotting a trash bin along the opposite wall of the hallway a few feet away, tossed it in.

  “I dropped out too,” he said.

  “You? But…” she motioned to his attire. “You look, well…professional.”

  “A professional dropout,” he cracked. “Let’s just say I’ve taken a rather circuitous route through life. May I?” He raised his hand in an offer to knock on the door.

  Malkah nodded, and he knocked twice. After hearing no response, he knocked twice again, harder.

  “Maybe the professor is sleeping,” he said. “Should I knock louder?”

  “She’s not a professor, she’s my cousin. She’s a TA here.”

  “Ellen Veetal?”

  “You know her?” Malkah asked, surprised.

  “No, we’ve never met.”

  “Oh, no. Not another one…”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing. So, you just happened to guess her name, is that it?”

  “Actually, Professor Matterson mentioned a TA down the hall named Ellen Veetal. And then there’s the little matter of her name there at the side of the door.” He pointed.

  “Oh…right.”

  “So, your cousin is not here and you’re holding a spoiled cake. Can I offer you some recompense, like a cup of coffee, maybe?”

  Malkah took in the man’s masculine good looks—his white-toothed smile, thick, curly dark hair, broad shoulders, and camel brown eyes. The small scar on the left side of his chin didn’t escape her either.

  “No, thanks. I think you’ve done enough for one day.”

  “I see, well, again, I apologize for screwing up your cousin’s birthday surprise. Are you just going to wait here until she returns?”

  “Yeah,” Malkah said. “See, says there these are her office hours. She should be around any minute.”

  A skinny, freckled woman with strawberry-blond hair strolled up sipping a takeaway latte. She wore baggy jeans and a bra-less, loose-fitting, diaphanous white blouse. It was Ellen’s friend, Jill Taylor.

  “She in there?” the woman asked.

  “No,” Malkah replied. “But her office hours say—”

  “Oh, then she didn’t wait for me,” the woman said. “Typical.”

  “Does that mean she’s not coming?” Malkah asked.

  “Yep,” Jill said. “Today’s her twenty-ninth birthday. A bunch of TA’s are taking her out to get drunk. She was supposed to wait for me so we could walk to the bar together.”

  “Are you late?” Gideon said.

  “She could have called me,” Jill answered petulantly, turning to the voice. Upon getting a good look at Gideon, her expression and tone instantly smoothed. “Are you two friends of hers?”

  “I’m her cousin,” Malkah said. “He’s—” she hiked her thumb towards Gideon, “the guy who ruined Ellen’s present.” She held up the smashed cake and shrugged.

  “Gideon,” he said.

  Jill said, “Well, I know where the party is, so if you guys want to come with me, we can walk over together. It’s not far.”

  “Thanks,” Malkah said, “but I’ll pass.”

  “How about you, stud-muffin?” she said turning to Gideon. “You’ll be the only real man there, and you’ll have a dozen messed up and horny women to pick from.”

  Gideon chuckled, his bright smile triggering Jill’s libido into a set of jumping jacks.

  “Thanks, but messed up and horny is a cocktail that leaves a mean hangover.”

  “We’re all really intelligent too, if that’s your drink of choice.” She laughed. “At least we think we are!”

  “No doubt, but really, I was just passing through. Thanks.”

  “Oh, come on,” Jill said. “You only live once. You’ll add some spark to the party. I’ll stick a ribbon in that gorgeous hair of yours and call you Ellen’s present. It’ll be fun.”

  “I’m really not much of a people person.”

  “Then you’ll fit right in,” Jill said. “We all hate people.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Gideon said, taking a step to signal his departure. “Have a good time, and…sorry, what’s your name?”

  “Malkah.”

  “Jill.”

  “I’m very sorry about the cake, Malkah,” Gideon said.

  With that he strolled off and disappeared down the stairwell.

  “Well,” Jill said, “looks like it’s just you and me, sweetie. Are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Then she added with a purr to her voice, “I go both ways.”

  “No, thanks. I go…this way,” Malkah said, taking her leave down the hall, the opposite direction that Gideon had gone.

  Finding herself alone, Jill Taylor shrugged and sipped her latte.

  Malkah exited the building and headed down a tree-lined campus sidewalk. Passing a trash bin, she dropped the cake into it and licked her fingers.

  “That would have gone well with coffee,” Gideon Baer said, stepping out from behind a tree.

  Malkah jumped, and fists clenched, planted what looked to Gideon like a fighting stance.

  “That’s twice now that you’ve startled me,” she said, relaxing, but still annoyed.

  “Are you always so tense?” he said, joining her as she strolled down the sidewalk.

  “I’m not tense. Why are you here? I left out the other side on purpose.”

  “So did I.”

  “Huh? That’s absurd. How could you know which door I’d go out?”

  “I didn’t. I just knew it wouldn’t be the same one as me.”

  “If you’re so clever, why haven’t you gotten the message that I’m not interes
ted?”

  “If you’re not tense, why are you so jumpy?”

  “I’m not jumpy,” she retorted. “I just don’t like being hit on by strangers.”

  “Well, who else is going to hit on you?”

  “Don’t be funny.”

  “You don’t like funny? I could be serious, even morose if you prefer, but I really don’t think you’re that kind of person.”

  “Considering you don’t know a thing about me, you’re being pretty presumptuous, don’t you think?”

  “I know some things about you,” Gideon said. “Your name is Malkah. You have a cousin, Ellen. You dropped out of college. You don’t think much of Professor Matterson. And you’re a waitress at Saul’s Deli.”

  “Hey,” she said, “how do you know I work there?”

  “The Saul’s Deli button on your daypack,” he said, tapping it with his finger.

  “You remind me of someone,” Malkah said.

  “Someone good or bad?”

  “Someone weird,” she said, thinking of Cyrus.

  “Good weird or bad weird?”

  “Is there a difference?” she said tartly.

  “Quite a bit, I’d say. So how about that coffee?”

  “Why?”

  “Why not? Have you got something pressing to do today?”

  “I always have plenty of stuff to do,” she snipped.

  “Exactly,” Gideon said. “You’ll always have that, but not my invitation.”

  “Look,” Malkah said, “clearly you do this sort of thing all the time, and honestly, it grosses me out. So, let’s just end it now and no harm done, okay?”

  “I don’t do this all the time,” Gideon rejoined, “and ‘honestly’ I feel like an ass even having to say so. Look, are you married or involved with someone? Because if you are, that’s all you need to say. I’ll apologize and be on my way. So, are you?”

  “…No,” she answered, and then quickly added, “but I’m not looking for a relationship either. Or,” she thought she had better make it clear, “a cheap thrill.”

  “I didn’t ask that,” Gideon said, not bothering to hide his weariness with her. “Me, I got the day off and am just hunting for a cup of coffee and some good conversation. Do you think you can handle that?”