Castro Directive

by Mertz, Stephen

  "It sounds like you had a busy day, Nick," Redington said.

  "And when you phoned, you didn't tell me half what was going on," Elise added. "Do you think Marisol would talk to the police?"

  Pierce shrugged. "It would be her word against Andrews's, and you can guess who would win that one."

  "It would probably get her killed," Redington said. "What she told you must have been what Paul was planning to tell me before he died. He'd realized a bit too late how far Raymond would go to get the skull."

  No one spoke for a moment, and Pierce watched Redington's black cat munching on a leftover piece of shrimp near the pool.

  "He's an evil bastard," Elise muttered, venting her frustration.

  Redington's lips pursed in a sour look. "I doubt that he sees himself that way. He's a pragmatist, an amoral one. He's taken the holistic philosophy, which he espouses, and perverted it. In other words, since you can't understand the whole by only examining its parts, it's okay if some of the parts are corrupted by despicable deeds."

  Elise shook her head. "That's not any different than believing that the end justifies the means."

  "Exactly. He's just given it an updated twist."

  Pierce sat back, listening to Redington's succinct and unemotional way of looking at Andrews. But analyzing his personality, as far as he could tell, wasn't going to prevent him from killing someone else. "The only way I see that Ray is going to be stopped is by obtaining clear-cut evidence. But how are we going to get it?"

  "I would speculate that Andrews has inadvertently cued you on the whereabouts of the skull," Redington said.

  "I'm not aware of any cues."

  "You may be aware of them only at an unconscious level."

  "It's like how you knew what had happened on the elevator," Elise said.

  "That's right," Redington agreed. "We could dig for the cues."

  "Hypnosis again?"

  Redington cleared his throat. "It would be very much like what I do with students to improve their ability to recall what they've studied. Except in this case we would be dealing with events—and instead of preparing you for an exam, we'd take it right now."

  "What are you suggesting, that I go back to my meetings with Ray and look for one of these cues?"

  "No. The unconscious mind works best if you give it free rein. It'll create its own scenario and speak through metaphors. The trick is to interpret them."

  "I think you should do it," Elise said. "Bill knows what he's doing, and you might trigger something important." Then again, I might shoot a blank, he thought. But what the hell. Another hypnosis? Sure. Why not.

  They moved to Redington's den, which was dark and quiet, insulated from outside noises. A small table lamp was the only illumination. As Redington prepared to record the session, Pierce settled into a comfortable chair. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it out slowly as Redington began leading him through the same head-to-toe relaxation method.

  Redington told him it wouldn't take as long this time, and he was right. Pierce followed his words, drifting with them, slipping deeper and deeper into the embryonic waters of his own being until suddenly something flopped across his thighs. He blinked his eyes open, and there was the black cat, perched on his lap, licking a paw.

  "Come on, Comus, old boy." Redington snatched him up, and Pierce heard the door softly close. "Comus was letting you know you're in his favorite chair," Redington explained in the same soft voice. "But he won't bother you now. I told him he'd have to share it this evening."

  Pierce smiled, still feeling relaxed and unconcerned. Redington picked up where he'd left off, and in a couple of minutes Pierce was passing through the now familiar blue dome and approaching the elevator. Once again, Redington described the elevator as roomy, comfortable, and well lit. He told him he wouldn't be adversely affected by elevators again, and said that whatever happened during the session would result in only positive effects for him. Finally he started counting backward from ten, explaining that when he reached one, the elevator door would open. Pierce would then enter into an experience that would lead him to the place where the stolen crystal skull was hidden.

  Pierce's body felt heavy, weighted, yet his mind was alert. He could see the inside of the elevator clearly. He looked above the door and was startled to once again see a blur of numbers.

  "Three. . . two. . . one. Now the door is opening. You can step out." After a moment, he asked what Pierce saw. He didn't respond.

  Pierce waited . . . and wondered if anything was going to happen. Then all at once the numbers stopped, the door opened, and the elevator vanished. But all he saw were vague forms against a jumble of light and colors swirling around.

  "What do you see?" Redington's voice was mellifluous, like music suited to a dream, a priestly incantation. It reminded him that he was lying on a couch hypnotized. Yet, his awareness was elsewhere, in an in-between place, and he didn't know if he would see anything that would make sense to him.

  Then the particles congealed. He was standing in a plaza watching as a line of men dressed in loose cotton pants and tunics climbed the steps on a stone temple. He knew he was back again, in that same time in the green mountains. It was as if he'd been there all along, but hadn't been able to see the obvious.

  He described the plaza and the pyramid. At the peak was an altar draped in a black mantle and on top of it was a crystal skull. As he watched, he knew exactly what was taking place. The people were interested not just in seeing the skull, but in hearing it speak to them. He knew that the Old One was beneath the altar, manipulating the jaw with a stick. He was the one speaking, offering the messages to ensure the servitude of his subjects. His powers were false. A craftsman had altered the sacred skull. The jaw had been cut loose and hinged. A small hollow had been carved at its base so a stick could fit into it from below.

  "How do you feel?"

  "Sad and angry. Tonight I will expose the Old One."

  "How will you do that?"

  "Steal it. Steal the skull."

  "Are you no longer the Old One's student?"

  "I am his enemy. He has tried to kill me."

  "Can your enemy or anyone else see you now?"

  He was confused by the questions, but then he knew no one could see him. "I would be killed. I can see, but I'm not here in the ordinary way."

  "Okay. Move ahead now to the next significant event. Take your time, and when you're ready, tell me what you see."

  For a moment, he couldn't see anything. Then he realized he was waiting in the dark. He'd waited for hours, and now he heard a noise. He whistled; a responding whistle punctured the air. He knew it was the men who had sided with him, the ones who had fled to the mountains where he was hiding.

  "What's going on?" The voice again, gentle, reassuring. "I have the skull. It disappeared two days ago from the altar before everyone's eyes."

  "What are you going to do with it?"

  "Take it where the Old One's men cannot find it. He is not a true leader; he deceives. He steals the powers of those he controls."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Because he does not drink the sacred juice. He only makes it."

  "Why doesn't he drink it?"

  "He knows it's poison and kills. That is why the warriors never live to old age."

  "Don't the warriors question why they die young?"

  "The Old One says they get lost on the other side."

  "What about you?"

  He thought a moment. "Maybe I will die, too. Soon I will take more."

  "Now go to that time."

  Atlan was lying under the shelter of a rock. He'd drunk the juice and was waiting. Four men were sitting around him, and their eyes were on the skull.

  He heard a hissing noise like a snake behind him, and jumped up. The others paid no attention to it. He looked around and instead of seeing a snake, he saw his body.

  It astonished him at first, then he saw the skull and began to understand what was happening. It was
glowing brightly, illuminating the tired faces of the men. He picked it up—and again saw that they didn't notice. He realized the hissing sound was familiar. He'd heard it the other times he'd slipped from his body. It was something within him signaling the departure.

  The skull was in his hands, yet he knew what he held was its essence, that its physical presence was still there by the men. He also knew that when he reached his destination and let it go, the skull would vanish from under the rock and appear in its hiding place. It would be safe, away from the Old One, whose weakness would be revealed because neither he nor his warriors would be able to retrieve it.

  "Now move ahead to that time when the skull is being hidden."

  Pierce's body jerked on the couch. Simultaneously he sensed he was someplace else, a place that Atlan couldn't comprehend. He was crammed against a wall, baffled, terrified. He was no longer in the mountains, but in a nightmarish place filled with strange four-legged creatures with large heads and bodies covered with hair. The rear part of them was even larger and was partly human and whirled along without legs. The terrible creatures moved rapidly, clattering on the wide stone path, and didn't seem to notice him or the skull he clutched.

  None of Atlan's trips through the underworld had taken him to such a terrifying place. He knew he must be in the heartland of Xibalba, the center of the underworld. This was where he would leave the skull. The creatures here would protect it.

  He saw a man walking toward him. His face was hairy, but he was dressed like a woman. When he was just a few steps away from him, he swung open a door and disappeared from sight. Atlan followed him into the building and found himself inside a strange room. Along the walls were row after row of odd rectangular wedges. He watched the man pull out one of the wedges and unfold it. There were three other men in the room, all wearing odd clothing, but different from the one with the woman's clothes.

  "Where have you gone with the skull?" The voice again. It confused him, and he didn't answer.

  He walked to the rear of the room to avoid the men and found a smaller room. Its walls were also covered with wedges. Then he saw something familiar, a burial urn, and knew that was the place for the skull. He lowered it into the urn and let go. The skull was no longer glowing. He knew it was physically here in Xibalba, and immediately he wished himself out of this alien place and back to the mountains. "Where are you now?"

  "Waking, feeling groggy. The men are talking; they're excited. They're saying the skull is gone, and arguing about who was awake, watching."

  "Okay, you're going to return to the present. Step back into the elevator."

  At first he didn't understand, but then Pierce sensed himself apart from the Indian. The elevator door opened, and he stepped inside.

  "You're feeling a bit light-headed, but you'll remember everything that happened to you. I'm going to start counting, and when I reach five you can open your eyes anytime you like."

  Pierce rubbed his face as Redington finished counting. He saw Elise sitting on the couch next to him, smiling. "How do you feel?"

  "A little confused, but otherwise fine."

  "What happened?" she asked. "You didn't say anything for a long time."

  "God, I was really gone. It was like I was living that guy's life. Wherever I took that skull, it was a long way from his home. It was— You know where I think it was?" He shook his head. "Now it makes sense, but he couldn't figure it out. He was terrified half to death of horses and buggies. He thought they were monsters. It was an alien world to him."

  "Where was it?" Elise asked.

  "I think it was Scotland. The man he saw was wearing a kilt. He followed him into a bookshop and left the skull in an umbrella stand in the back room. The stand looked like a burial urn. It was the only thing that made any kind of sense to him."

  "So you found where the skull was hidden." Redington spoke the words slowly as he considered what Pierce had just said.

  Pierce ran a hand through his hair. "I'm afraid that's not going to help us much. I seriously doubt we'd find it in an umbrella stand in Scotland. Hell, it wasn't even the present. It was like Victorian times, or maybe even earlier."

  Redington shut off the tape player. "Your experience doesn't seem to lend itself to an easy interpretation.

  Unless the Scotsman is John Mahoney."

  "That's what I was wondering," Elise said. She gazed off, a distracted took on her face.

  "Well, that doesn't get us anywhere," Pierce said. "We know he doesn't have the skull."

  After they left Redington's house, Pierce followed Elise's car, sometimes dropping back two or three blocks. He was watching for any indication that they were being followed. He was particularly looking for a dark blue Mercedes, but he kept his eyes on all the cars that were following them.

  As he drove, he puzzled over the hypnosis session, trying to make sense of it. He'd definitely accomplished the objective of the session, but what did it mean? What did any of it mean? Why was Andrews so obsessed with the idea that the skulls would give him eternal youth?

  He remembered the articles that Tina had packaged for him. He still hadn't read the one on the crystal skull myth, the one that had something to do with the Fountain of Youth myth. The envelope was in the glove compartment, and he promised himself he'd look it over.

  Twice, Elise took side routes to see if they would draw a car off the main streets. None followed, but he wasn't convinced they were alone. After all, if Steve had been watching Redington's place, he would have a pretty good idea where Elise was headed.

  Finally, when she turned into her driveway, he cruised slowly around the block another time. As he pulled in behind her, Elise was still seated in the car, just as they'd planned it.

  Before going inside, they walked around the house together. He took a flashlight from his car and shone it into the shrubs and at the trees. Her hand was inside her purse, clutching a .22-caliber pistol. Unless it was fired at close range, a shot from the gun would probably just piss off the attacker. But it might be enough to give them time to get away.

  As he looked around, he realized for the first time how extensive the landscaping was in her backyard. When he mentioned the lush growth, she told him that was Steve's handiwork. He'd spent most of his spare time during their marriage either working out with weights or working in the yard.

  When they'd completed their patrol of the yard and were in front of the house again, he asked if she wanted him to take a look inside. She nodded, and her apprehensive look told him that she dreaded even the thought of encountering Steve in the house.

  They walked from room to room and as he followed her up the stairs, he couldn't help but notice how gracefully she moved and his eyes lingered on the curve of her buttocks.

  The last room they checked was her bedroom. He opened the closet door, turned on the light, looked carefully into the corners. They were alone.

  "Thanks, Nick. I appreciate it."

  "Don't mention it." He tilted his head down and kissed her lightly on the lips. She drew her head back, smiled, then wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth tightly against his. Once again he felt the snug fit of her body against his, but this time there was no mistaking the intentions. Her thigh pressed against his groin, which grew hard with desire, and her breathing quickened.

  She stepped back toward the bed, breaking the kiss, drawing him toward her. His hand slid over the front of her blouse and he fumbled with the buttons. She pulled his shirt from his pants and slid her hands up over his belly and across his bare chest. Clothes dropped away,

  Elise pulled back the covers, and they tumbled into bed. Her skin was as soft and cool as the sheets, a world to travel in, to get lost in.

  "When we first met in the weird Jack of Clubs bar, were you hoping I'd invite you to my hotel room?" She moved away from him a little, regarded him in the dim light that issued from the closet. Her hands didn't leave him; they stroked and caressed.

  "I was pretty sure you didn't have a room, but I
was sort of hoping you'd prove me wrong." His breathing quickened as she kept touching him.

  "You know what?! was wishing I really had a room."

  For a long time, there was only the heat of their fever, the slickness of skin, the tangle of limbs, and the fury of their bodies. Slow, shallow strokes, soft moans, the bite of Elise's nails against his shoulders, her murmurs, the thrust of her hips, her sharp, startled gasps as she came, and a moment later, the explosion of his own breath.

  Pierce collapsed next to her, his arm around her waist. He dozed, and came awake when she rolled away and got up. He heard the bathroom door close, and in the distance, the squeal of car tires. He imagined Steve outside the house, watching now, as the bathroom light shined through the window. Steve watching, waiting.

  Chapter 31

  "That does it," Elise said as she walked into the kitchen. "Still no answer. If I don't reach him today, I'm calling Scotland Yard."

  "Sounds drastic." Pierce looked up from the article he was reading. "He's probably enjoying himself in a country house somewhere."

  Elise refilled her coffee cup and dropped down in the chair next to him. "I hope so."

  "When was the last time you talked to him?"

  "A couple of weeks ago."

  "You ever read this article on the skull myth that Bill wrote?"

  "Yeah," she said, with a sigh, her thoughts still on her father.

  "Is it true that—"

  The phone rang, cutting off Pierce. Elise literally leaped to her feet and answered it. "Oh, hi. Let me go up to my study. I've got my grade book up there."

  She set the phone down and glanced at Pierce. "Will you hang it up for me? It's my teaching assistant."

  "Sure."

  She hurried off, and when Pierce heard her voice, he dropped the phone into its cradle. He turned his attention back to the article, which he'd brought from the car when he picked up the morning paper.

  Although Redington had told him about the legend, his article contained considerably more detail, and related it to Ponce de Leon's search for the Fountain of Youth. According to the legend, the twin skulls had been taken in opposite directions from their homeland. The one known as the God of Death eventually fell into the hands of the Mayans, while the God of Life went to "River Land." The twin gods, who were brothers and enemies, would eventually reunite after the "Fountain of Transformation" was found.