As Karen's voice trailed off, her own words echoed in her ears, suddenly demanding all her attention. It was as if she'd revealed a great truth to herself. Yes, Jeff was a good and honest man. And that's exactly why she felt as she did about him. All at once she knew how very special he was.
"We'll talk about it when he gets home, I promise. Is that all right, Casey?"
Two forward thrusts on the wheels moved Casey to the side of Karen's chair. At exactly the same instant, each reached out for the other's hand.
At his room in the Radisson Hotel, Ian "Skipp" McCurdy turned away from the lake-view panorama and pulled the cord, closing the heavy drapes over the wide western window.
The room was in semidarkness. The air conditioner hummed. Wisps of cigarette smoke curled and drifted.
He sat down at the desk and opened what appeared to be a black leather briefcase.
Built into the top was a nine-by-fourteen inch liquid crystal display screen. Two thirds of the bottom was a keyboard. The other third was a powerful transmitter and receiver. McCurdy stretched an antenna that looked very much like a numberless metal tape measure. It extended about four feet from the side of the unit. Then he squared himself in his seat before the keyboard and hit the ON switch.
The outline of a hand with a truncated little finger appeared on the lavender screen. The moment he placed his left hand upon the image, he knew a confirmation signal was bouncing off a satellite miles above Burlington. Instantly, he was communicating with Bubb at the Academy In Boston.
When he took his hand away, its hazy outline remained. In the center of the electronic palm a message said:
MCCURDY VERIFIED
McCurdy typed:
* installed at burlington, vt., ready
LOCATION VERIFIED.
THANK YOU, DOCTOR MCCURDY.
The words winked at him, then vanished. New words rapidly appeared, faster than he could read them:
YOU ARE IN THE PROXIMITY
OF YOUR OBJECTIVE.
THE SACRIFICE YOU ARE ABOUT TO MAKE
IS OF TREMENDOUS VALUE AND IMPORTANCE.
ARE YOU READY TO PROCEED,
DOCTOR MCCURDY?
YES
NO
McCurdy hit the "1" on his numeric keypad.
YOUR RESPONSE IS NOTED.
DOCTOR MCCURDY,
I MUST INFORM YOU THAT
BEGINNING NOW
WE WILL MAKE USE OF
A FASTER AND MORE DIRECT
FORM OF COMMUNICATION.
ARE YOU READY TO PROCEED,
DOCTOR MCCURDY?
YES
NO
McCurdy's finger hesitated, hovering above the "1" on the numeric keypad. A faster and more direct form of communication? What could that be? His imagination was fired, his curiosity piqued.
McCurdy clicked his tongue—'Tch, tch, tch."—hoping he wasn't due for another run in with some soulless street person like that disgusting garbageman he had killed.
Well, here goes nothing, he thought.
With a quick cavalier toss of the head, he pressed the key.
WHACK!
It was as if he had thrown a switch releasing a million volts of electricity into his body.
He bucked.
Legs jerked. Spine straightened. Instantly, rigid as a board, he snapped like a spring from the chair.
Paralyzing bolts of electrical pain coursed up and down his sides. The back of his head felt as if it might erupt like a volcano.
Blinking convulsively, he found himself on the floor, his tongue pressed against the pile of the carpet. Brilliant specks, tiny white stars, floated like dust in the darkened room.
He shook his head as if he had just surfaced from a dive. Then he laughed.
His body felt wonderful! Energized! Perfect!
His nerves were the strings of a celestial harp on which an angel played divine music. Beauty embraced him. Rushing blood sang in his veins.
And a voice spoke clearly in his mind. "I am with you now, Doctor McCurdy."
From across the room, Karen glared at Jeff. Neither spoke. In the uncomfortable silence she could hear Casey's sobs beyond the closed door of the guest room.
Jeff picked up the last piece of pizza from the box. Paused when it was halfway to his mouth, then threw it down with a look of disgust. He stood up. "It was a big mistake coming here; I can see that now! A big fucking mistake."
Karen crossed her arms. "No it wasn't, Jeff. It was the right thing to do under the circumstances. What's wrong is the way you keep trying to play God with us."
"Play God! I—"
"Yes. Right. You show up here, unannounced, and drop this whole thing in my lap. Okay. Fine. I can handle it. At least you told me what the risks are. But what about Casey? You dragged her along, right into the thick of things, and you didn't so much as tell her what she's getting into. That's not fair, Jeff. Think about it!"
"Not fair! I'm doing what's best for her, considering what we're up against. She shouldn't—"
"Shouldn't what, Jeff? You've kept her completely in the dark, yet you expect her to obey silently and not ask any questions. Come on, she's too smart for that. Casey's a very intelligent young woman. She has a right to know what's going on. And you . . . and you . . ."
Karen felt her voice cracking. She was afraid she was about to lose it and start crying. Somehow, she managed to hold on and charge ahead. "Jeff, you just don't have any right to control the flow of information like . . . like . . . like some censor, or dictator or something. That's where all this started, isn't it? With you objecting because the Academy refuses to be straightforward about what they're doing? You said people need to know . . . have a right to know, for their own protection, remember? Yet you're doing exactly the same thing with Casey. And now you're angry at me because I said all three of us should talk about it."
"You were siding with Casey against me."
"Siding? What are you talking about? I'm not on anyone's side. Are we choosing up sides here?"
"How I raise my daughter is up to me; it's not your business. Karen."
"It was my business the minute you walked into my life with all this high-tech horror of yours. Jeff, listen: all three of us are in this together. Right now, right this minute. And you're the one who put us here, remember? At least you told me about the potential dangers involved—I should think you owe as much to Casey . . . ."
"Naw. No way." Jeff turned his back. "This is too much for that kid to handle. She's—"
"It's too much for any of us to handle. But we're stuck with it. I know you want to protect her, Jeff. So do I. But this isn't the way to do it. She can better protect herself if she has some idea what we're up against."
Jeff whirled around. "Karen, you don't understand a thing. The more she knows, the more danger she'll be in. That's why spies don't even tell their families about the cases they're involved in. That's why—"
"Is that what you think you are, Jeff? A spy? Do you think we're all living in some James Bond movie? My job is reality, my friend, so let's keep real. Don't glamorize what you've done. Your decision to expose the Academy may be good and right—and I think it is, I think you're brave to have done it—but don't you dare start thinking of this as some kind of game. We're not pieces on a chessboard, Jeff. I'm your friend, and Casey's your daughter. That's the reality of it. And together, we have to decide what we're going to do about this. We've got to be clearheaded, and we've got to make a plan."
Jeff dropped into a chair and lowered his head into his hands. He rubbed his eyes vigorously, then stopped, keeping them closed for a few moments. He spoke slowly, "You're right, Karen, you're right. I'm not questioning whether I was wrong to come here. In some ways, it's probably the smartest thing I've ever done. But I'm sure having second thoughts about starting this whole mess to begin with."
Karen's impulse was to go to him, but for now she knew it was better to keep her distance. Let him think. Let him talk. Obviously, he was reconsidering, reevalua
ting. Karen waited patiently for Jeff to say something more.
After a while he buried his face behind his palms again. When he took his hands away and looked up, his eyes were red-rimmed and moist. "I guess . . ." He blew a long slow stream of air through pursed lips. "I guess I'm just scared, Karen. Okay. I admit it. And every time I think about it, or talk about it, I get more scared. I . . . I simply did not realize what I was getting into. What I was getting Casey into. Now I'm afraid that when I lay the whole thing out for her, both of us will see what a fool I was to set it in motion. There's no stopping it, you know; there's no turning back. It's going to keep getting worse and . . . God . . . I don't know that I'm up to it. Thank God the Academy doesn't know where I am. At least that gives us a little breathing room before—"
"But it doesn't give us any time to waste. If I were you—"
Jeff stood up. "Okay," he said, holding up his hand. "Maybe I'm a little slow, a little dense, but I finally got it." He walked over and kissed Karen on the forehead.
"Thanks," he whispered, and moved across the floor toward the guest room.
Hobston, Vermont
Light-headed and barely conscious, Daisy Dubois knew she had lost a lot of blood. Whenever she moved to get more comfortable, her shoes slipped on something thick and wet. The sensation sickened her.
For a long while she had been in terrific pain as the baling wire sliced into her wrists and ankles. With each movement, it sliced deeper. The only way to stop it was to sit quietly, like a statue.
At the moment, thank God, all the pain was gone. Probably that was because she was half asleep. Lately she couldn't tell for certain when she was asleep or when she was awake.
Some little while back, just as it was starting to get dark, she had seen her husband Stuart looking in the kitchen window at her. He looked young and fit, just as he had on the day of their wedding. He smiled at her as if to say, Hold on, Daisy, pretty quick I'll be coming for you.
She tried to smile to let him know she understood, but he was gone.
Yes, she remembered now, Stuart was . . . gone.
He wasn't hiding outside with a policeman, waiting for a chance to break into the house and rescue her. No, Stuart was gone. He'd been gone a long time.
And Daisy was alone.
She moved her eyes around. The redheaded man and the little girl stood motionless in the shadows. What a strange and frightening pair! In all her days, Daisy had never seen anyone like them.
Last night—or was it the night before? Daisy wasn't sure—after they'd tied her up, they filled her mouth with—oh my goodness, the thought was too humiliating—they had filled her mouth with cloth and secured it in place with masking tape. Then they'd laughed at her, pointing at whatever the man had written over her mouth.
Their laughter, loud ugly grunts, echoed in Daisy's memory, reminding her of how helpless she was.
Then the pair had become quiet, all at once, just like machinery shutting down. The man stood outside the closed bedroom, the girl took a place beside the screen door, looking out at the dooryard. Watching. Waiting. For what?
They'd been standing there ever since, saying nothing, hardly moving, not even shifting their weight.
All through the night they'd held their spots. Then all through the morning. . . Not talking. Not eating. Just standing there, hour after hour—the man grinning, the little girl rubbing the place between her legs.
What do they want?
What are they waiting for?
Were more visitors on the way?
Oh, heavens, what were they going to do with her?
Now, her mind clouding again, Daisy uttered a silent plea to the Good Lord. Her head nodded forward as her consciousness ebbed. Motion caught her eye!
The redheaded man was moving! He didn't yawn or stretch, he didn't even shake his head to clear it. He just walked toward the porch, looked out, then moved toward the bedroom.
Before he pulled the door open, he turned and looked at Daisy. She saw something in that glance, something fragile, something like a real human emotion.
It looked for all the world like fear.
Fear as raw and as shattering as her own.
She thought he might speak, maybe even help her.
But no.
Instead, he turned away. And the little girl followed him into the dark interior of the bedroom.
Burlington, Vermont
It was almost midnight.
Karen still hadn't fallen asleep when she heard the tapping on her bedroom door.
Jeff opened it a crack and looked in. Light from the hall spilled in around his head. "Can I come in a minute?" he whispered.
"Sure." She sat up a bit, two pillows beneath her shoulders.
"I hope you weren't asleep," he said as he tiptoed across the carpeted floor. "Look, I just want to apologize. I really flew off the handle and I'm feeling embarrassed about it."
"I know. It's okay. You're under a lot of pressure. I understand that." Jeff took a seat on her bed.
"Karen, I don't know what I'd do if you weren't here to . . . well, to . . . you know, to keep things in perspective for me. I behaved like a jerk and I'm really sorry."
She reached out and took his hand. It felt warm and good.
"I'm sorry, too," she told him. "It's just that I'm tired, I guess. Maybe I'm not being patient enough. Maybe I'm not handling things well. I guess I didn't get much sleep last night, you know? Too much talking, too much thinking. Way too much happening. We'll both be more clearheaded in the morning."
As she spoke he took her hand in both of his. She could see his face indistinctly in the subdued light. His features had softened, he seemed more relaxed. His wiry hair looked wild, silhouetted in the hall light.
"Casey and I had a good talk. I told her what I was up to, why I had come here. The whole thing."
"And how did she take it?"
"Just the way you thought she would: like an adult."
"She is an adult, Jeff. She's a very special young lady. You should be very proud."
He chuckled dryly, mirthlessly. "I am. I just wish I could be as proud of myself. You're both very special young ladies. Maybe some of it will rub off."
Karen smiled at him. She reached up and touched his face. "I'm proud of you," she whispered. "You're very brave."
Without speaking, he lowered his face and kissed her. Their second kiss lasted longer. Karen's lips flexed, sealing the bond between them. Their tongues met warily.
Karen slipped her hand from his grip. Without thinking, her arms were around his neck, pulling him closer. She felt the solid mass of his chest as it pressed against hers, flattening her breasts. She felt his hands in her hair.
His head was beside hers now. His mouth breathed warm air against her ear. "I have so much to thank you for," he whispered. "I don't know where I'd be without you. You're the only sanity in this whole crazy mess. I hope you know that."
She closed her eyes. Sometimes you have to be a little brave, she reminded herself. Sometimes you have to be a little adventurous.
Jeff kissed her again and stretched his body on the bed beside her. The box spring squeaked from the added weight. Only the thin sheet separated them.
It had been a long time since Karen had been kissed affectionately, passionately. Her body seemed to need it, feast on it as dry earth feasts on rain. She felt his hand running up and down her side, felt a pleasurable rush as her nipples hardened against the silky fabric of her nightgown. Her hips moved, pressing against his thigh.
But before she could release herself to the passion, dark thoughts intruded. Karen's mind fought her body, contrary forces experiencing the same event. This was the first time a man, any man, had been in the bedroom of her new home. But they weren't alone. In her mind's eye she saw her father, a wrinkled, hollow-eyed skeleton in a hospital bed.
Jeff's hand found the fullness of her breast, kneaded it gently. The silky nightgown felt delightful against her skin. A muted sigh escaped her throat.
She almost didn't hear Jeff whispering, "Sometimes I think we were thrown together by some benevolent power. I feel as if you were there for me when I needed you the most. Does that sound crazy?"
Again their lips locked together. Her hand was on his cheek and she could feel the warm blood there. In her mind she saw Mike Tucker spinning at the end of a rope after his wife drove away forever.
Karen slid her lips away from Jeff's. "Jeff, please, I can't do this."
"I . . . what's wrong?" He lifted his head, tried to look her in the face, but she wouldn't let him.
"Am I hurting you?"
"Oh no. Not that. It doesn't hurt. It feels . . . well, it feels good. But, oh, I can't, Jeff. I just can't. Not now. I'm just not . . . prepared, not ready."
He was sitting now. Still, he had one of her hands in his.
"Jeff, I've just never . . ."
"And I haven't either. Not since my wife died. I never thought I could be with a woman again. But, Karen, I can't tell you how much you mean to me. It's almost like magic."
She felt herself pulling away. Still she could not give up his hand; she liked the feel of his strong fingers around hers.
"We can't . . . we shouldn't let this get started . . . ."
"Why, Karen? Why not?" His voice was quietly insistent. "What's there to be afraid of? There's not someone else, is there?"
Karen squeezed his hand. "Oh no, it's not like that. It's just. . . well, if we let it get started, then—"
Abruptly she pulled her hand free of his and turned away. Her bed tossed with the sudden movement. She covered her face, feeling tears push toward the surface. His warm hand rested on her shoulder.
The Reality Conspiracy Page 24