The California Coven Project

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The California Coven Project Page 24

by Bob Stickgold


  “But now you make it sound like it really isn’t worth trying. it doesn’t sound like there’s a chance of it working.”

  Maggie smiled. “But what you said before is true, Carol. If we don’t try, we’ll never find out.”

  “Well, when can we try it?”

  Maggie was startled by the question. “Well, I don’t know. We don’t have any potion, and we don’t have any patients, men or Women.”

  “But the rest of the Coven probably does. Couldn’t they try it? We could just tell them what to do.”

  Maggie thought a minute. “Well, I don’t like the idea, but I can’t think of a better one.” She stopped and thought about it. “We’d have to call someone and hope the call couldn’t be traced.”

  “I could borrow Judy’s car and drive down to San Jose to call,” Carol suggested. “Then even if they trace the calls, they won’t get anything.”

  * * *

  They decided that Carol would drive in on Friday night, when San Jose would be full of footloose teenagers looking for something to do. Most likely, the police would have other things on their minds.

  Chapter Forty

  EN route to San Jose, the darkness of the highway offered Carol the security of invisibility but still seemed to harbor a hidden threat that left her nervous. It took the better part of an hour to reach the center of town, and Carol cruised around the unfamiliar streets until she caught sight of chain-dancing high schoolers waiting to catch the midnight show of Disco Hamlet.

  She drove several blocks farther, and then parked. Making sure she knew exactly where the car was, Carol headed back toward the noise and the lights, and bought a ticket to a movie theater without a line. Then, popcorn in hand, she headed for the lobby pay phone.

  From her pocket she fished a handful of quarters that Judy had gotten for them. In her back pocket she had Maggie’s checkbook. The phone numbers of three Coven members were written down in it, disguised as the amounts of checks written. $3.54 and $17.29 gave her Sue Tiemann’s phone number, 354-1729. She dialed it and waited expectantly. What it they were all having a meeting? Then she wouldn’t be able to reach any of them.

  “Two eighty-five for the first three minutes.” The voice took her completely by surprise, and she let out a yelp.

  “H-how much?” The phone had already started to ring at the other end.

  “Two dollars and eighty-five cents, please.”

  As Carol started feeding in quarters, the phone was answered at the other end. “Hello?”

  “Sue?” Carol called out in excitement. “Is it you?”

  “Ma’am, thirty-five cents more, please.”

  Carol quickly stuffed two more quarters in. “Sue, are you there?”

  “This is Sue,” the voice replied, “To whom am I speaking?”

  “It’s me!” Carol shouted, and then, almost in a whisper, “Carol.”

  “Oh!” The phone was silent for a second. “Are you calling long distance?”

  “Well, sort of,” Carol answered.

  “Why don’t you give me the number where you are, and I’ll call back, if you think that’s okay.”

  Carol thought a moment. If Sue called back, then the phone company would have a record of where the call was made to, but otherwise, there was always the risk of the operator listening in, and that was worse. “No, it’s a good idea. Let me give you the number.”

  A minute later they were reconnected. “Uh, what can I do for you, Carol?”

  “We want some tests done on men,” Carol blurted out, “and decided we’d just have to hope that your phone isn’t tapped.”

  “Um, maybe I should call you back from a different phone. . . .”

  “Sue, wait,” Carol shouted. “Honest, we’ve thought it all through it won’t make any difference whether you go to another phone or not. Please, let me just tell you what we want done.” Sue relented. “Okay, do you have a pencil? Write this down. Then, if you decide that you want to do it differently, that’s your decision, but we want you to think very carefully before you change it, because we put a lot of time into working out this method. Anyhow, if in the end you decide it would be better changed, go ahead and do it, but keep really accurate records of exactly what you do, okay?”

  “Fine.”

  “Okay, here it is.” Carol read her the protocols as she Maggie, and Judy had finally worked them out. Three men, all receiving potion that had been incubated for six hours in an equal volume of blood from women who were currently taking the cure. The men would be psyched up just as the women were, and treated exactly the same, except for the one difference in the preparation of the potion, which the men would not be told of. Blood would be taken only from women who volunteered it, understanding that the donation would in no way help their condition.

  She finished the call just as the movie let out, and the lobby was suddenly packed. As Carol walked from the booth, she noticed two men pushing their ways toward it. While she hurried toward the exit, she saw them open the door to the booth and start talking to the woman who had begun to dial. Slowing down her pace, she tried to melt into the crowd as it left the theater. A police car sat in front. Without looking back, she headed down the street, praying that she was invisible in the crowd.

  She was afraid to look back, and terrified that she was being followed. Suddenly, she realized that the crowd was virtually gone, and that she was walking along with a group of no more than ten other people. When they turned oft Willow Street

  , she did, too.

  Unable to take the suspense, she finally looked behind her. The Street was empty. She stumbled, and almost fell, then regained her composure, turned and continued down the street. “I don’t even know where I am,” she muttered to herself. Everything looked vaguely familiar yet totally strange. She walked another half-block, unsure how to proceed, then suddenly came upon her car.

  It took her a minute to realize what had happened, and then as quickly as she could, she unlocked the door and got in. The door shot and locked, and tears stinging her eyes. Carol realized that part of her had been hoping the police would find her and put an end to her fear.

  Restraining an impulse to start up the car and drive off, she climbed over into the back seat and pulled an old blanket over herself. “They can only find you if they know exactly where you are, or if you’re moving,” Maggie had said. “They’re going to expect you to be running, so the best thing is to stay put.” Two hours, Maggie had said. Two hours and they’ll figure you’ve gotten away. Carol looked at her watch. It was 9:45. She would die of fright before midnight.

  * * *

  She sat up suddenly, confused as to where she was, and pulled the blanket off her head. Then she remembered. She had fallen asleep. It was just after one.

  She drove off in a trance, half from fatigue, half from terror. Every few seconds she checked her speedometer, her rearview mirror, her watch. Everything was going fine. Once, when the engine sputtered pulling onto the expressway, she searched frantically for the gas gauge, only to find the tank still over half full. Although she would never describe it that way, the drive back to Palo Alto was uneventful.

  Chapter Forty-One

  “This court is now in session. All rise.”

  Beckie rose to her feet, as did her attorney, Linda Coles, while the judge entered the courtroom and took his seat. The chamber was packed with members of the N.M.A., the press, and others whom Beckie could not place. The judge serenely examined the audience, and then the prosecution and defense tables. Finally, looking up to the audience, he said, “Before starting, I would like to make clear to the members of the gallery that this is a court of law, and not a place of public amusement or a political rally. No making of noise, or any other displays, will be tolerated. I have instructed the sergeant-at-arms to remove any spectators who persist in such behaviors. I presume that such action will not be necessary.”

  A quiet murmur began in the gallery, but quickly died down. Beckie was struck by the effect of the judge’s
robes on his appearance. When she looked objectively at his face, he seemed a rather plain man, clearly in his fifties, with a soft, slightly pudgy, and cheerful face. But when considered with the robes, his features took on an almost Olympian grace and wisdom, and she found herself thinking of the word merciful instead of cheerful.

  He turned and looked directly at her. “The case before us is the State of California versus Rebecca Louise McPhee.” Pulling herself up straight in the chair, Beckie returned his took, trying as best she could to hide the fear within her.

  “Rebecca McPhee, you are charged with practicing medicine without a license, and in so doing, endangering the lives of others. How do you plead?”

  Beckie rose to her feet. “Not guilty, Your Honor.” She sat back down.

  The next hour reminded her of a confusing and boring political meeting. In fact, she understood very little of what was going on. Her lawyer had asked for a dismissal of the charges based on lack of evidence, while the prosecuting attorney, in his early thirties, had asked for a restraining order prohibiting Beckie and all members of the Coven from treating cancer patients. Both motions were denied, for reasons that Beckie didn’t follow. Finally, bail was set, and met, and Beckie was free to leave. Opening arguments were scheduled for Wednesday.

  * * *

  Meanwhile, Sue Tiemann and Amy Belever were huddled over the kitchen table at the Palo Alto home of Amy’s aunt. Amy was confused. “But why should the blood from female patients do anything?”

  “Because that’s what makes the potion effective, Amy. When the women are psyched up for the cure, they release something into their blood that makes something in the potion more effective, and then that something kills the cancer cells.”

  Amy frowned. “But how can they know that? There’re so many other possible explanations.”

  “Maybe they’ve found out something that we haven’t,” Sue suggested. “Who knows what they’ve been doing since they went underground.”

  “Even so, Sue, it’s only been ten days. And the fact that they want us to try it out means that they haven’t been able even to get set up enough to start their own treatments. So how could they have gotten any new information?”

  Sue thought a minute. “Maybe they’ve been in touch with other members of the Coven. Carol didn’t say anything about our being the only people she was contacting. Maybe one of the other women had a breakthrough.”

  “Dammit,” Amy said. “It’s so frustrating having to work so secretively. How can we get anywhere if we don’t even know what other women in the Coven are doing?” She read their new instructions once more.

  * * *

  Maggie sat nervously in the waiting room, reading an old Time magazine. She felt silly wearing Judy’s clothes, huge wire-rimmed sunglasses, and a blond wig. She was sure that anyone looking at her would realize she was a disguised fugitive, but in fact, no one paid the least attention to her.

  As always, the office was behind schedule, and it was a full forty-five minutes before Maggie was taken in to see the doctor. She sat down in the offered chair, across the desk from him, and waited for the nurse to close the door behind her. He looked across at her with a friendly smile. “Well, Mrs. Landon, what can I do for you?”

  Unable to restrain herself, Maggie began to giggle. The doctor started to look uncomfortable, which just made her laugh even harder. Finally, she pulled off the glasses and wig, and said, “Hi, Bill, you promised you’d help me if I asked, remember?”

  Krueger stared at her. Suddenly he rose from his seat, crossed to the large picture windows on the side of his office, and closed the curtains. Returning to his desk, he buzzed his receptionist. “Betty, I don’t want to be disturbed for anything less than a real emergency until I’m done with this patient, okay?” He disconnected without waiting for a reply. Finally, he returned his attention to Maggie. “Maggie, I was sure you’d be far away from the Bay Area by now.”

  Maggie smiled. “Well, here I am, alive and in the flesh.” Her smiled broadened. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words before, Bill.”

  “Maggie, you’ve had me at a loss ever since Ann came out of those scans without a tumor in her body.” He paused before continuing. “Hell, I’m still at a loss for words. But tell me what you’ve been doing. Do you really—I mean, you were lying to me when you told me how you cured Ann, weren’t you?”

  Maggie laughed again. “Yes, I lied to you, and yes, we have a cure for cancer, and yes, I do want to tell you all about it—but this isn’t the time or place, since you have other patients to see and it’ll take hours to explain it all to you. I came here instead of calling because they surely figured out that you were Mom’s doctor and they may be tapping your phone.”

  Krueger thought a minute. “Are you free this evening?’ Maggie nodded. “Good. I’ll get a room at the Holiday Inn on El Camino. Do you know where it is?” She nodded again. “Okay. Call me there at six, and I’ll give you a room number. You can come right up then, and we can talk.”

  Maggie frowned. “Won’t it all look rather suspicious?” she asked.

  Krueger smiled. “Yes, but I’m sure they’ll suspect something quite different.” He looked at his watch and thought a second. “I’d love to have you give me just a hint about how you do it.”

  Maggie shook her head. “You’ll have to wait till six.” She reached out her hand, and Krueger rose and shook it. “Thanks, Bill.”

  He shook his head. “No, Maggie, it’s I who should thank you. I don’t think there’s a cancer researcher in the country who wouldn’t give his eye teeth to be there tonight. It’s an honor to have been asked.”

  Maggie put on her glasses and her wig again. “Do I really look reasonable in all this?”

  Krueger nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Landon, you looked just the way I had expected you to.” Then, winking, he added, “See you at six?”

  Maggie turned and left the office.

  It only took her ten minutes to drive to Judy’s house and tell Carol the good news. Carol was equally excited. As they talked about it, Carol seemed to become confused. Finally, she said, “I’m coming, too, aren’t I?”

  Maggie seemed surprised, and started to answer Then she stopped. “Yes,” she finally said. “You get to come, too.”

  * * *

  Maggie and Carol arrived at the hotel, and in another two minutes they were safely in Kruger’s room. Maggie introduced him to Carol. “Despite my own doubts, Carol has probably done more to organize our work than anyone else in the Coven.” She stopped, embarrassed by the name.

  Krueger recognized her feeling. “How did you come to choose that name? You must have been aware that it wouldn’t help your case much.”

  “Well, actually,” Maggie explained, “it started as a joke—’

  “No it didn’t!” Carol insisted. She turned to Maggie. “You used to be so proud of your great, great grandmother, Margaret Jones; you used to tell me how we had to match her standards, to vindicate her life. But now you just want to forget about her.” Maggie frowned. “She’s a direct descendant,” Carol explained, “of a real witch!”

  “Carol!” Maggie objected.

  But Carol continued. “It’s true. She was tried as a witch in Boston, in the 1650s. There’s even a description of the trial in the diary of the guy who was governor of Massachusetts back then. Mom is even named after her!” She looked at Maggie with a smile of satisfaction. “But that’s not all. Wait until you hear how we cure these women!” She giggled nervously. “Tell him, Mom. Tell him how we do it.” With a look of elfin delight, she sat down to await Krueger’s reaction.

  For the next hour and a half Maggie explained the whole story to Krueger, who listened intently, asked only an occasional question, and took copious notes.

  When they were done, Krueger just stared at his notes for several minutes, finally looking up only after Carol began to squirm anxiously in her chair. Turning to Maggie, he said, “Would you swear that all of what you’ve told me is true?
That you haven’t improved on the statistics even a little bit to make them more clear-cut?”

  Maggie nodded her head. “Bill, every one of the women we’ve treated has shown a complete disappearance of the pain they were experiencing. I’m not talking about a diminution of pain, but a disappearance. Five have bad subsequent X-ray or CAT scans that showed their tumors to be gone. Admittedly, there hasn’t been any time to follow up, but what you saw with my mom seems to be the rule. As far as anyone can tell, the cancer is gone.”

  “But why have you done it all secretly? And why have you gone into hiding over it? That sounds crazy to me. You should be giving news conferences, and demanding millions of dollars in federal grants to test your medicine, or potion, or whatever you want to call it.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” Maggie replied. “Why didn’t you follow up on my cure of Ann then?”

  “But you said it was some crazy religious cure. You didn’t tell me that—”

  “That I had swiped some witch’s recipe from a book two hundred years old, a recipe that calls for boiled frogs and a bunch of herbs and wouldn’t work if you fried it because you have to make the patient really believe it’ll work—or it won’t.” Maggie looked at him defiantly, “Now that we have thirty-five or forty cures, maybe you’ll look at it more seriously.”

  Krueger started to answer and then paused. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders. “Okay. It doesn’t matter at this point, anyway. I like to think that I would always be open to scientific evidence, but things do tend to look more obvious in hindsight. So, looking forward I’m left with two questions. First, what are your plans for helping Beckie McPhee, and, second, where do I fit into your plans?”

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Liz Jason leaned over and whispered to Beckie, “This guy’s pro-A.M.A., a real smoothie from Orange County.”

  James Craddock thanked the chair and turned to give Liz and Beckie a polite smile. He was in his early forties and looked both interested and alert. His sights were known to be set higher than the state legislature. “Gentlemen, it would seem to me that in deciding the question of the licensing of midwives associated with the Natural Midwives Association, several points must be bone in mind. Foremost amongst these is that we are not attempting merely to decide whether being a member of this group is grounds for revocation of one’s license. We are not engaged here in a denial of the right of these women to join any organization of their choosing, under any name, for whatever reason they may choose. Rather, the issue is whether they have violated the conditions which were accepted by them when they were licensed. If their behavior has been consonant with that prescribed by the legislation which governs their licensing, then I believe we have no reason to revoke their licenses. If, on the other hand, they have been acting in a manner that is contrary to the standards established by the enabling legislation, then, and only then are we entitled, and even required, to revoke their licenses. I believe this last to be the case, and I believe that it is our obligation to revoke their licenses.”

 

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