by H. Y. Hanna
Leah abandoned her questions, too relieved that the ordeal was over. She barely listened as Crystal said goodbye with the promise to inform her of the result of the interview soon. Leah stumbled out of the building into the Singapore sunshine, feeling like she had woken up from a very surreal dream. Above her head, the sky showed a deep, periwinkle blue, broken only by a few wisps of clouds, and dazzling sunshine reflected off the mirror-like sides of the skyscrapers looming up around her. The smell of curry and spicy Thai food drifted over from the food court on Market Street.
Leah breathed deeply, shutting her eyes for a second, feeling the sunshine hot on her eyelids. Then she rubbed her hands over her face and gave herself a mental shake. It was all just mind games, she reminded herself, as she started walking towards the nearest MRT—Mass Rapid Transit—station to catch the underground train home. She just hoped that she had played it well enough to pass.
The answer came at seven that evening. Leah had been checking her email every hour and her heart gave a little jerk when she saw the message in her Inbox. She clicked it open.
She was in.
CHAPTER 12
The message from Sanctum Bona Dea was a brief welcome note, stating that she had been offered a place at the retreat, with a form requesting her credit card details. It also included directions to the Changi Point Ferry Terminal where she could get daily crossings to Pulau Ubin, the larger island. From there, she would have to hire a wooden bumboat to take her to the smaller retreat island. Leah wondered when the first ferry would leave for Pulau Ubin.
“There’s no timetable,” said Toran when he arrived an hour later. He looked harassed and tired, his dark hair even more unruly than when she saw him yesterday. Still, Leah thought that he looked incredibly sexy despite the faint stubble roughening his jaw and the shadows under his green eyes. She had to resist the urge to reach out and slide her arms around him, to ease those lines away from his forehead with her lips.
“What do you mean there’s no timetable?” she asked, coming to stand behind him as he sat in front of her laptop, reading the email from Sanctum Bona Dea.
“The boats from the mainland to Pulau Ubin run sunrise to sunset, although you can make private arrangements for trips after dark. Normally, they won’t go until there are twelve passengers—so you just have to get there and hope that enough people turn up soon. At quiet times, it can be a long wait.”
“I’m going to go tomorrow morning.”
Toran turned in his seat and looked at her, a frown on his forehead. “Leah…”
She held up her hands. “It’ll be fine, Toran. Stop worrying! I’ll be back before you know it… hopefully with Angela.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Leah raised her eyebrows. “I thought you said you only dealt in facts, not rumours. Have you dug up any more information about Sanctum Bona Dea that’s worrying?”
“Not really. Not yet,” amended Toran. “But that doesn’t mean it’s kosher.” He made a sound of impatience. “If it wasn’t a woman-only retreat, I could go myself and speak to Angela—”
“But you can’t,” said Leah reasonably. “I’m the best person to do this. And I think… I think that Angela might actually listen to me more than to you or her family. I think she sees me as a neutral outsider—somebody who doesn’t have a history in taking sides.” She didn’t add that it was probably also why her encouragement to Angela to join the retreat had been so effective.
Toran reached out and tenderly brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead. “I just… I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
Leah felt her heart constrict at the expression in his eyes. “Nothing will happen. It’s just a slightly weird retreat that’s trying to brand itself using this exclusivity thing. Trust me, I work in Marketing—I know. I’ll bet a lot of it is just show and when I get in there, it’ll be the same old boring combo of vegan meals and mass meditations.”
Toran’s frown deepened. “About the mass meditations…”
“What about them?”
Toran swivelled the chair around, putting his hands on her waist and pulling her to him, so that she was standing in the deep V between his legs. He was so tall that even sitting, he was almost level with her head. Leah leaned back playfully, enjoying the possessive weight of his hands on her hips. But her teasing laugh died in her throat as she realised that Toran’s face was deadly serious.
“Listen, Leah… If this place is a cult, then once you enter, they may use subtle techniques to influence your thinking and actions. It’s very insidious—you may not even realise it’s happening.”
“Wait a minute… are you talking about brainwashing?” Leah asked incredulously.
“Thought reform, coercive persuasion, brainwashing… you can call it what you like. It amounts to the same thing,” said Toran grimly. “It’s an indoctrination process which leads to an individual becoming unable to think independently and to a radical disruption of their core beliefs and values. And it can take place so slowly and subtly that you’re not even aware it’s happening to you.”
“Okay, now you’re scaring me,” Leah said with a teasing smile.
Toran didn’t return the smile. “If you really intend to go, Leah, then I need you to know the cult brainwashing techniques typically used and to be on the alert for them. If you are aware and prepared, you might be more resistant.”
“Toran,” Leah said, laughing. “Listen, I’m one of those people who just can’t be hypnotised. Seriously, back in London, I went with some friends to a big hypnotist’s show and they challenged me to go on stage. So I did—and out of all the volunteers, I was the only one that he couldn’t influence. He said it’s a voluntary thing—that people let themselves be hypnotised—but if you have a strong enough mind to resist, you just can’t be controlled against your will.”
“It’s not that simple, Leah,” said Toran impatiently. “That was in an entertainment context where you felt secure and confident in your own identity. Things can be very different if you are isolated and confused and under physical or emotional stress.” He paused. “Have you heard of Patty Hearst?”
Leah furrowed her brow. “The name rings a bell…”
“She was the heiress to the Hearst publishing fortune, but what really made her famous was her kidnapping in the 1970s by the SLA—the Symbionese Liberation Army. Apparently, they kept her locked in a dark closet for days and she was starved, brutalised, abused, and terrorised while they bombarded her with anti-capitalist political ideology. Well, within two months of being kidnapped, she had changed her name, denounced her family, and joined her captors in robbing a bank at gunpoint.”
“I promise I won’t let Sanctum Bona Dea talk me into robbing a bank,” joked Leah weakly.
“This isn’t a joke, Leah,” Toran snapped, his green eyes angry. “Cult indoctrination is a real phenomenon and not something to laugh at. Angela was a strong, independent woman—you would never have believed that she’d be the type to be susceptible to a cult—and yet, her personality has changed completely in the last few weeks… ever since she started to have contact with Sanctum Bona Dea, it seems. I don’t know if it’s just a coincidence, but if it isn’t, then it means that she was not as impervious to coercive persuasion as she thought. And neither are you!”
Leah stared at him, then finally nodded. “I still think you’re being paranoid, but if it will make you feel better… Fine, I’ll be careful.”
Toran let out a long breath. “The first step is usually isolation—to cut members off from the outside world. This is easy for Sanctum Bona Dea—the retreat is on a remote island. It’s well documented that people are much more vulnerable when they are in new surroundings and feeling disconnected.” He leaned forwards and looked at Leah intently. “If you’re isolated, you start to lose perspective and get a distorted sense of reality. The only people you’ll be communicating with will be other cult members around you—so they’ll become your only feedback and any doub
ts about the group will quickly turn into self-doubt. This breaks down your sense of self. You don’t trust your own judgement anymore. The whole point is to condition you into thinking independence and critical thinking are ‘evil’ while unquestioning submission is welcomed and loved.”
“But surely they can’t stop me from thinking what I like? I mean, even if I don’t say it out loud, I can still think rebellious thoughts. Probably half the teenagers in the world are doing this,” said Leah with a laugh.
Toran shook his head. “They’ll make damn well sure that you don’t think ‘rebellious thoughts’. Cults often control every minute of your time—like when you eat, what you wear, when you sleep, who you can talk to, where you can go. They’ll probably also make you take part in group meditations and chanting a repetitive phrase or mantra—these are both well-known techniques for ‘calming the mind’ or, in this case, shutting down the nagging internal voices… It’s all to make sure that you’ll have no chance to analyse things too closely.”
“Hey, I know a few perfectly normal retreats that also employ those ‘tactics’,” said Leah with a laugh. “They call it getting you into a good routine and helping you develop a healthy lifestyle. Like getting up early, following a daily exercise routine, and having regular mealtimes.”
Toran gave a wry smile. “Yeah, you’re right. That’s why it’s so insidious with Sanctum Bona Dea presenting itself as a retreat, because there will always be good reasons for their rules and you’ll feel stupid for questioning them.”
Leah thought suddenly of what had happened at her interview that morning. She had definitely gone along with a lot of things that she hadn’t felt comfortable with, but still, it had felt more like a silly mind game than any real threat. She glanced at Toran out of the corner of her eye. She hadn’t told him about her interview in detail—where she was concerned, Toran already had an over-developed protective instinct and she didn’t need to trigger it any more than necessary.
He was watching her thoughtfully now. Reaching out, Leah tried to smooth the frown from his brow with gentle fingers. “Don’t worry, I won’t let them make me feel stupid for questioning things. I’m aware now so… forewarned is forearmed, right?”
“Leah, it’s one thing to talk about this here… it’s easy to think about ‘resisting’. But it’ll be different when you’re there and it’s actually happening to you.”
Leah slid her arms around Toran’s neck and leaned into him, touching her lips lightly to his. She had only meant to reassure him, but desire sparked between them like tinder and, suddenly, she felt herself crushed to him as he slanted his mouth across hers, kissing her with a rough urgency that was almost violent. Leah felt a raw wave of emotion surge through her, making her light-headed. When they finally broke the kiss, they were both breathing quickly and she had a hard time remembering what they were talking about.
Toran leaned his forehead against hers and said, his voice low, “We’ve finally found each other again, Leah… I can’t bear to lose you again.”
“You won’t,” Leah assured him, stroking back the hair from his forehead and pressing her lips to his temple. “I’ll be fine. I’m not planning on staying long enough for any of this cult indoctrination stuff to happen—assuming that Sanctum Bona Dea is a cult. There’s still no proof of that, remember? I think you’re letting Angela’s mother get to you.” She paused as she thought of Angela and something that puzzled her. “Toran, even if this place is a cult, I don’t understand—you said Angela was strong-minded and unlikely to have been susceptible… so why do you think she got recruited?”
Toran stood up and eased Leah away from him. “Even strong people can be vulnerable, especially in periods of stress—such as following the death of a loved one or losing a job or…” He hesitated. “Following a bad break-up.”
Leah saw the guilt in his eyes and wanted to reach out and tell him that it wasn’t his fault. But the words stuck in her throat. Because a part of her did feel like it was their fault. Silly as it seemed, a part of her felt responsible for Angela’s state of unhappiness… And if that unhappiness had somehow made Angela more vulnerable, then Leah felt that she had to do something about it. She had to personally make sure that Angela was all right.
“Come on, shall we watch some TV?” asked Toran, holding out a hand to her. “Take our mind off things.”
Leah smiled. “TV sounds good. And I’ll open that bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon you brought.” She moved towards the kitchen.
A sudden ringing brought them both to a halt.
“My phone,” said Toran with a sigh, reaching into his pocket to take it out.
Leah had a bad feeling that she knew who it was and Toran’s face confirmed her suspicions. He had barely held the phone up to his ear when she heard shrill words and wailing coming from the speaker. Toran listened patiently for a minute, then said, “All right. I’ll come right away.”
He hung up and looked at her regretfully. “It’s Angela’s mother. She’s at the police station again and it sounds like she’s having hysterics because they won’t listen to her. I think I’d better go down there and try to calm things down. I’m sorry, Leah…”
Leah swallowed her disappointment. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I was going to have an early night anyway… I want to get to the Changi Point Ferry Terminal early tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll come pick you up to take you there,” said Toran quickly.
Leah started to say that it wasn’t necessary, then she smiled. It would be nice to have him there. “Okay. Seven o’clock?”
Toran raised an eyebrow. “You really meant it when you said early, huh?”
“I just want to get this thing over with. The sooner I go out there, the sooner I can return and life can get back to normal.”
“Fine. I’ll see you at seven.” Toran leaned in to kiss her, but stopped as his phone started ringing again.
“Go. Before she sends a police car to come and get you,” said Leah, laughing, pushing him towards the front door.
Toran paused as he was stepping outside the door. He turned back to look at her, his green eyes troubled. “Leah… remember, nobody is invincible. And the more you think you are, the more likely you’ll be taken by surprise.”
CHAPTER 13
Dawn was still washing pink across the sky when Leah saw the car turn off the street and pull up in front of her villa. It was an Audi TT convertible with a gleaming silver hood and a throaty growl. And Toran was at the wheel, looking dark and dangerous in a navy blue shirt and black shades.
“This is your car?” said Leah, getting in and running her hand along the cream leather interior with an incredulous laugh.
“Why? Did you just automatically expect that I’d be driving a second-hand Toyota Corolla like my father?” asked Toran with a sardonic smile. He gunned the engine and they drove off. As the car purred along the road, Toran glanced sideways at her and said, “I suppose Julia would consider me good enough for you now.”
Leah felt her cheeks redden. “You know I’m not that kind of girl. I never cared about those things, Toran. Not the money or the designer labels or stuff like that. I would have got in your car even when it was just a Toyota Corolla and all you had were dreams to spread under my feet.”
He glanced at her again. She couldn’t read his eyes behind the shades, but she knew that he was also remembering the Yeats poem he had sent her in a Valentine’s card when they were fourteen. “I, being poor, have only my dreams. I have spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.”
“I have a lot more than dreams to spread under your feet now, Leah,” he said with a dry smile.
“Yes, I noticed,” she said. “Like a penthouse apartment in one of the most expensive residential blocks in the city?”
His lips quirked. “I bought that last year. I couldn’t resist the view.”
“Last time I was in Singapore, I thought you said you were renting,” Leah said suspiciously<
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He laughed. “I was renting for a while… last year, before I bought this place.” He inclined his head. “Okay, I admit—I may have stretched the truth a little. I let you think that I was still renting, the last time you were here. I didn’t mention that I had already moved into the penthouse… I guess I wanted to meet you on my own terms. See if you would be interested in me if I was still just Toran James, the boy who got into your expensive private school on a scholarship and a dream… as opposed to Toran James, property portfolio magnate.”
Leah raised her eyebrows. “I never realised journalism paid so well.”
He shrugged, flicking his eyes to the road. “There are other ways of making money besides your day job. Clever investing is all about looking for opportunities and taking calculated gambles, especially in places of rapid growth… such as the developing market in China. I’ve invested wisely and taken some risks in the last ten years which have paid off well. It means I can do what I love for work—but still live comfortably.”
From the look of things, he was living more than comfortably, thought Leah. But it wasn’t Toran’s style to brag. It was only now that she was looking that she started to realise what she hadn’t noticed before: the subtle signs of prestige and wealth, aside from the obvious like the apartment and the car. There were little things, such as the expensive feel of his clothes, more evident in the quality of the cut and fabric than in any showy details.
No, thought Leah, Toran would never go for the clichés like brandishing a loud, monogrammed Louis Vuitton wallet—the ubiquitous sign of status for so many local men—or other flashy ways of flaunting wealth. His was a much more understated kind of confidence. He didn’t need to impress anyone or prove anything. Maybe because his confidence came from his own achievements rather than from being born into luxury and walking into an executive job in Daddy’s company. Maybe that was one of the things she had found so attractive about him, compared to the other boys, when they were at school together.