by John Blaine
“It’s very difficult to explain. It seemed as though I were daydreaming that someone needed me and was calling me. I know that doesn’t make much sense.”
“Perhaps it does,” Karen replied. “Or will, when we can understand a little more.”
Jan smiled.“Perhaps. Goodbye for now. We’ll see you Thanksgiving Eve.” She walked to the car.
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The magician’s wife turned to Rick, but her eyes were still on Jan. “Take good care of her,” Karen said softly. “She’s one of the rare ones.”
Rick knew very well that Jan was a rare type of girl, but he didn’t think the word meant exactly the same to Karen. “I’ll do my best,” he assured her.
As they rode south toward Whiteside and Jerry’s house, Jan put her hand on Rick’s arm. “I know you’re worried about me, Rick, but don’t be. It’s all right. I’m puzzled, and sort of...well, call it enchanted. But I’m fine, really.”
“Tell me”.
“I can’t just yet because I don’t know what’s happening. It’s only a vague feeling. But I can tell you this: there’s someone else in that house that the Camerons don’t know about.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t know how. I just feel it.”
“An old man? The one you asked Karen about?”
“I’m not sure, but I think so. Karen feels something, too. She doesn’t seem to feel it as strongly as I do, but she knew right away when I asked who else was in the house.”
“Yes,” Rick agreed. “What’s the feeling like?Besides being some kind of presence?”
“It’s a nice feeling. It isn’t menacing or evil. It’s sort of warm, and as I told Karen, I feel as though someone...or maybe something...needs me. But I can’t imagine what for.”
“Is it a friendly ghost? You know, the Mirella estate is said to be haunted just because it’s been empty for so long.”
Jan chuckled. “Yes, but if it’s a ghost, it’s the first one I’ve ever wanted to meet.”
“If you’re not upset or worried about it, I’ll try to relax.”
“I’m just puzzled, and very intrigued. We’ll find out together what it is, like always, and I’ll tell you everything that seems to fit.”
“Okay. We’ll let it drop until there’s something more to say.”
They would be going back for the grand opening, and that would take Jan within the influence of whatever was trying to communicate with her. How far did the influence reach? What did it want of her?
The whole thing was very strange.
Had it been anyone but the girl at his side, Rick would have been tempted to dismiss the odd feeling as the product of an over-heated imagination. But this was Jan! She was his delightful and witty girl companion in the adventures and fun of the Spindrift four, his lovely and charming date on social occasions, his regular chess opponent who consistently beat him an average of six games out of ten.
Worse, they had been learning the even more complex oriental game of Go, where strategy requires keen Page 14
foresight and the ability to analyze an almost infinite number of possible future moves—and Jan was beating him seven out of ten.
Not that Rick really considered it “worse.” Jan’s high intelligence included a better natural aptitude for math than his and the ability to work though possibilities step by step to the desired result. Rick, on the other hand, tended to look at things holistically and to be satisfied with a good approximation of the overall picture; he didn’t have Jan’s patience.
Although she was a year behind him in school, she was taking the same advanced math courses, and he had to study hard sometimes to comprehend concepts that she seemed to absorb intuitively. He often called on her with an especially tough problem, and he enjoyed asking for her help. To Rick, this was part of the natural order of things.
It was true that Jan had a vivid imagination, but it was coupled with sound common sense. Time and shared danger in the past also had shown her intense loyalty and her great courage. She truly was one of the rare ones. But what Karen had meant was rare in a sense that Rick did not yet understand.
The Millers had arrived at Spindrift under sudden and stressful circumstances, smuggled out ofWashington on a Coast Guard vessel by the Special Security agent who had often called on the Spindrift scientists for help. Dr. Miller was head of a scientific team of four charged with developing the concept for an advanced new missile system when two of the team and later a third, suddenly were struck by acute mental disaster, losing their ability to reason or speak coherently.
The agent showed up late on a Sunday evening to ask sanctuary for the Millers and Spindrift help in rebuilding the team. The Brants agreed immediately, and the Millers, who were offshore in the Coast Guard vessel, moved into the big Brant house that same night. Weeks later, with the project finished, the scientists recovering, and the saboteurs in Federal hands, time came for the Millers to return toWashington .
Fortunately, within days after the parting, Dr. Miller agreed to a permanent position at Spindrift, and the family moved into the last of the new houses behind the orchard, closest to Pirate’s Field and the beach.
For Barby, Rick, and Scotty, it was as though the sunshine on Spindrift had suddenly returned to full brightness.
From about the second week of Jan’s initial arrival on the island, all other girls had become just people to Rick. With her return, they became good friends, with the same tastes in music, books, entertainment, and more serious interests. They saved little surprises for each other, like a funny cartoon, an interesting idea from some publication, a nice turn of language, or a magazine article. They became as close as him and Scotty, though in a different kind of way—but no closer.
At times when they were enjoying something and each other, Rick tried to shift their friendship to a somewhat more intimate boy-girl plane, only to meet a skillful and non-hurting defense which kept things exactly as they were. That this exceptional girl apparently had no romantic interest in him despite their deep friendship, bothered Rick more than a little, but there was nothing he could do about it except hope.
A future without Jan was something he didn’t even want to imagine.
Now there was this new facet of Jan. Who, or what, was trying to communicate with her at the estate?
And, above all, how? Rick didn’t totally reject extra-sensory perception; he had come close to experiencing it himself too many times, or so it seemed. But he had the skepticism of one whose main scientific interest was in physics. In essence, show him how the message got from one person to another, and he’d believe. The difference now was that he did believe Jan. If she said it was so, it was.
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What that left was a big mystery. Who, why, and how? As Rick turned into Jerry’s driveway, he knew he wouldn’t let the matter rest until he had some sensible answers.
CHAPTER III
The House of Illusion
The Spindrift party arrived for the Cameron opening in two cars, with Rick driving his parents and Scotty while Barby rode with the Millers. New signs along the highway pointed the way, and at the estate entrance was a large sign which spelled out, THE HOUSE OF ILLUSION in changing colors. At the gate was a man in white tie and tails, complete with cape and top hat,who waved them through with an elegant bow.
As Rick’s car emerged from the line of trees he saw that the estate was lighted very cleverly to give it an air of brooding mystery within the bright illumination of the grounds. Uniformed attendants waited to park the cars. Turning his car over to one, Rick accepted a numbered ticket while Scotty opened the back door for the Brants. Other cars already were moving toward a parking lot behind the north wing, and still others were stopping under the portico with their loads of illusion seekers.
Rick went immediately to Jan’s side as the Spindrifters walked to the entrance. Earlier, he had held a short meeting with Barby and Scotty.
“Until this strange business about Jan and the Mirella estate
gets cleared up, we do not leave her alone even for a minute. Okay?”
“But she says the whatever-it-is is friendly,” Barby pointed out. “Do you really think she’s in any danger?”
Rick shrugged.“Maybe not. But I don’t intend to take any chances. If you have to go powder your noses, both of you go, and either Scotty or I or both of us will be standing by until you reappear.”
“He’s right,” Scotty agreed.
Barby nodded “She and Ialways stick close together anyway unless we’re with one of you.”
Just inside the mansion entrance the Spindrifters exchanged coats and wraps for claim checks, then walked to a reception desk occupied by a lady in the colorful costume of a Hungarian gypsy. “Your table will be number fifteen in the Phantom Caravan room, Dr. Brant.” The gypsy handed him a card. “An attendant will seat you when you are ready to go in, but first we hope all of you will enjoy the fun here in the hall.”
Rick had been looking around during the brief exchange. A clown was showing a group some remarkable dexterity with cards, sending cascades from one hand to the other. Waiters in black trousers and white mess jackets were offering trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne to guests. A male gypsy, holding a crystal ball on a velvet-covered tray was telling fortunes—apparently funny ones, because those Page 16
around him were laughing. A young magician in a tuxedo stood behind a small table, producing an assortment of odd objects from within a silk kerchief.
While the elder Brants and Millers were accepting glasses of champagne and some appetizing tempura shrimp, Rick asked quietly, “How goes it, Jan?”
“I don’t feel any kind of...emanation, I guess you’d call it. I’ll tell you if it happens. Ooh, look!”
Barby had just been accosted by a huge Mongol, shaven-headed except for a scalp lock, sleeveless jacket showing muscles like a weight lifter, and baggy trousers gathered at the ankles over heavy leather sandals.
“A golden girl of great beauty,” the Mongol exclaimed. “I think you must pay forfeit for all your company.” He held out open hands. “You have hidden on your person a tiny creature as golden as your hair! I must have it. But in that pretty gown there is no hiding place, so I think it must be-here!” His hand darted to Barby’s hair, and he triumphantly held on his palm a tiny golden hamster, which blinked sleepily.
Barby’s eyes opened wide. She barely hesitated. “So there you are, Socrates!” Before the Mongol realized what she intended, Barby took the hamster from his hand. “Thank you for finding him for me.”
The Mongol made a salaam.“My pleasure, Miss Barbara. Perhaps it would not be well to take him to the dinner table with you. He might be mistaken for a bit of antipasto or a fuzzy dinner roll. If you wish to take him home with you, he will be waiting at the reservation desk. Meanwhile, allow me to care for him.”
Barby handed the hamster back. “Thank you. That’s very nice.”
The Mongol closed his hand. When he opened it, the hamster had vanished.
The Brants and Millers rejoined the young people at that moment. Barby greeted them with, “Guess what? This nice man found a little friend for me. Would you please show him to our parents?”
“With pleasure, Miss Barbara.”The Mongol held out his hand and turned his palm upward. The little hamster nestled there, blinking. The Brants and Millers exclaimed.
“But where do you keep him hidden?” Mrs. Miller asked.
The Mongol turned his hand over, front and back, twice. There was no hamster. “But I don’t keep him hidden, Mrs. Miller. His disappearance is just an illusion.”
Hartson Brant laughed. “It’s what you should expect in the House of Illusion, Kate.”
The Mongol bowed. “Scientists seek the keys to knowledge, Dr. Brant and Dr. Miller, but do you know there are doors to knowledge that have no keys? Ah Boon of Bangkok will be pleased to show you.” He gestured toward a doorway a few yards past the stairway where a Buddhist monk was just ushering a couple through the door. The monk saw the Spindrift party and bowed invitingly.
As the group approached, the monk bowed again. “I am very pleased that you have come. Through my doorway are four doors without keys, as Omar said. Yet, the doors do have keys of a kind, to your personalities. Only one of the doors will be attuned to you and will open wide for you. The others may Page 17
open part way, because all persons are a mix of goals, interests, and talents. Try each door until you are accepted. Only one person may go through a door at a time. Please to enter.” He bowed three times.
Between glances at Jan, Rick had been examining the monk with interest. He was clad in a saffron-colored floor-length robe with wide sleeves in which his hands were hidden as he held them together. His eyes, wrinkled with laughter, were very wise and knowing. His head was shaven. Around his neck he wore a golden choke collar an oddity for a Buddhist monk in which was set an ivory Buddha.
Most unusual, the monk appeared to be a Caucasian, and Rick suspected that, if he allowed his hair to grow, it would be reddish blonde. Although it wasn’t impossible for a Caucasian to be a Buddhist monk, it was probably pretty rare. Rick concluded that the monk was an actor.
He followed the other Spindrifters through the wide doorway into a foyer in which there were four doors, side by side.
“What fun,” Mrs. Brant exclaimed. “Who will be first?”
“I’ll volunteer.” Dr. Miller tried the first door, and it opened wide for him. “Easy,” he said, and walked through.
Rick’s mother was next. Three doors opened only part way. Not until she reached the fourth did it open wide for her.
Hartson Brant followed, and went through door one, which had accepted Dr. Miller.
To Mrs. Miller’s surprise, the first door also opened for her. “Walter and I must be more alike than I thought.” She laughed and went through.
“I’m next.” Barby tried the doors. Each opened only part way until she reached the fourth. “Like mother, like daughter.” She waved and was gone.
“I’ll follow her.” Scotty’s door was number two.
When they were alone, Rick asked, “Still no message, Jan?”
“Not even a little bit. Find your door, Rick.”
Rick wondered if the strange presence had left the house. The third door opened for him. He stepped back. “Now find yours.”
Each of the first two opened slightly for her as they had for him, then door three opened wide. Jan chuckled. “I had a hunch it would be like that.A real Rick Brant hunch.”
Rick laughed. The others enjoyed kidding him about his hunches, but he knew they believed in them, even more than he did. He waited until the door had barely closed behind Jan, then followed her into a short tunnel of blue and green moving shadows. A voice spoke out of the changing twilight.
“You have been chosen by the door of the dreamers. The greatest deeds are accomplished by those who dream and then make the dreams come true. Neither of you is content with dreams alone, and you mix action, practicality, and the search for knowledge with dreaming. Out of your dreams, together, you will weave the fabric of tomorrow. Go now, and seek illusion.”
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Rick shook his head in wonder. He and Jan went through a door into a small room where Barby and Scotty waited. The four followed an arrow to the entrance hall and found their parents just as a deep gong sounded and a voice cut through the noise of conversation in the big hall.
“Guests of the House of Illusion, it is time to dine. Your dining room and table number are shown on your cards, and the diagram on the back will show you where to go. Eat well of real food-and prepare for illusion!”
“Lead the way, Scotty,” Dr. Brant invited.
“Aye, aye, sir. Please follow me.”
As the group started off, Jan paused. She linked her arm through Rick’s and whispered, “It’s back.A nice, happy feeling. I wasn’t dreaming about that, anyway.”
“So you’re a dreamer.”
“Of course. Didn’t you know? I
knew you were.”
“Did you?” It was a little shock to Rick, who prided himself on his hard-headed practicality.
“I’ve never known anyone who dreams up such great ideas. Don’t you call that dreaming?”
“I never argue with doors,” Rick told her, grinning as a tuxedo-clad waiter led them to a table for eight in the center of the Phantom Caravan room. Rick held a chair for Mrs. Miller, then for Jan, and slipped in between them. “We dreamers gotta stick together.”
“ Uhuh.Maybe dreaming will help us see behind the veil.”
It was an odd phrase. He raised his eyebrows.“Meaning?”
“I mean the veil from Omar.”
Scotty leaned across the table. “Do you mean Omar McGuire, the great quarterback?”
Jan laughed. “No. I mean Omar Khayyam.
Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed the spirit of the Rubaiyat all around us. The Buddhist monk quoted Omar, too.”
“Ruby’s a funny color to paint a yacht,” Scotty said dryly.
“A Khayyam must be a female kayak,” Rick joked.
“At last we’ve found something these two don’t know about,” Barby crowed. “I’ve been waiting for the day.”
Mrs. Miller suggested, “Why don’t you boys switch from science to literature for awhile with Jan and Barby? You might enjoy it.”
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“We do enjoy it,” Rick told her. “Jan’s got me knee deep in Marlowe at the moment.”
“I’d still like to know how Omar came into this,” Scotty reminded.
“Omar Khayyam was a Persian astronomer and mathematician who lived about ten centuries ago,” Jan explained. “He wrote verse, too, in a form called the rubai , which has four lines like a quatrain. Then, about a hundred years ago, an English poet named Edward Fitzgerald translated some of Omar’s verses and rewrote them into English.”
“So what’s the connection?” Scotty asked.
Jan motioned to the mural on the wall. “That’s one, and the doors without keys were another. They’re both from Rubaiyat verses.”