She quickly sized him up. “Depends, what’s the favor?” she asked with hardly any hesitation because that’s just the type of party it was.
“Can you see that old guy down there?” Cole asked, pointing toward the spot where Carter was standing.
“Sure,” the woman said with a laugh, as if the existence of someone like Carter was a joke in and of itself. Cole knew better. If it was a joke, it was a cruel joke and it was on everybody but Carter.
“He’s a friend of mine that I haven’t seen in a while.” Cole had no doubt she would believe that. “I’m just playing a little prank on him and I need to know where he’s staying. Can you go up to him and start talking to him and ask him if you can meet him at his place later tonight?”
She laughed again. “You really think he’ll buy that?”
In his state, the killer would probably buy anything. The world must have seemed unstoppable to him at that moment. Everything and anything would seem possible to him. Cole took a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket. He didn’t know how much money he had left. He didn’t care. He handed the woman the money. “Tell him that you’re usually into the surfer type but that you’re in the mood to try something different tonight. He’ll buy that or, at the very least, he won’t have the courage to risk turning you down. Then ask him where he’s staying. Can you do that?”
She took the hundred-dollar bill and smiled a conspiratorial smile. “Why not?” she said.
“Then come back here and tell me what you learn. Remember, tell him that you’re usually into the surfer type.” That was the clincher. Cole knew he wouldn’t be sold on her beauty alone. He’d be sold on the potential for even greater immersion.
“I got it,” she said, and began to walk away from Cole and toward Carter. Cole watched her hips sway through her thin toga as she walked away from him, and he was confident that his plan would work.
She came back less than five minutes later. “He’s staying at the Lost Horizon house up on Playa Negra. He must have money.” She sounded far less dismissive of him than she’d been a few moments ago.
“Where is that?” Cole asked.
“A few kilometers north of town,” the woman said.
“And you told him that you’d meet him there later tonight?”
“That’s what you asked me to do, right?” she said, waving the hundred-dollar bill that she was still holding. She had nowhere else to put it. “He said he’d be there in an hour, waiting for me.”
Cole glanced over at Carter one more time. He hadn’t moved yet, but Cole knew that he would. He was simply trying to recover first. Then the promise of newer, wilder memories would make him go. The closer you got to a memory, the more power it had over you. Cole knew that he would take every chance to make the memories as real as possible. Cole had been there before. He knew that the more authentic the trigger, the more powerful the immersion. Cole had to move quickly. He wanted to beat the Memory Vampire to his house. He had to leave the party now and head straight up to Playa Negra if he wanted to be sure to get there first.
Cole made his way back through the maze of bodies, walking off the beach and toward the road that led into town. The bodies were pressed together so tightly that he couldn’t avoid bumping into people as he walked. Cole did his best to minimize the contact. He walked with his head down, trying not to be distracted. He barely noticed the people as he walked past them, never giving any one of them more than a quick glance. Time was short. Cole didn’t want any distractions.
If Cole had kept his head up, if he’d looked more closely at the people he’d bumped into, maybe he would have recognized Fergus from the airplane. Maybe he would have put it together that this man looked far more like the person whom Jerry and Bon had described than the lumpy man he’d been watching on the beach. They collided for a moment, Fergus and Cole, as Cole made his way toward the road. When they did, Fergus pressed his left hand into Cole’s shoulder and firmly pushed him aside. Cole barely noticed. He glanced up but, by the time he did, Fergus had already walked past him, disappearing into the crowd. Cole only got a short glimpse of him, not long enough for anything to register in his memory. Instead, Cole kept walking, eager to get to the Lost Horizon to confront his target.
Chapter 50
Cole stumbled out to the dark street and began to walk north. He was alone this time, the only person leaving the party. It was a considerable walk to Playa Negra, but as long as he kept moving, Cole was confident that he could get to the killer’s house first, even if the killer managed to arrange a ride. Cole hadn’t seen anything to make him believe the guy on the beach was going to be able to pull himself out of his daze too quickly.
The full moon gave off just enough light for Cole to walk by. The road ran north along the coast. For most of the walk, Cole could see the churning sea to his right and the jungle to his left. As Cole walked, the noise of the party gradually began to dissipate behind him. Soon he could hear the waves along the beach again. He could hear the wind whistling through the trees and the birds croaking in the forest. When those were all the sounds that he could hear, when the party sounds had disappeared completely, Cole checked his gun again. He’d tucked it into the waistband of his shorts before he went to the party and then done his best to ignore it. Now he took it out and examined it in the moonlight. It had been a long time, but he was prepared to shoot if he had to. After all, no backup was coming to help him this time. He slid the gun back into the waistband of his shorts and began to walk faster.
Cole was sweating through his shirt by the time he reached the Lost Horizon on Playa Negra. The last half mile of the walk was on a small dirt road that cut through the jungle adjacent to the beach. The Lost Horizon was dark when he got there. It was secluded, surrounded by the sea on one side and by the thick jungle on the other three. Cole hadn’t seen another house or hotel since before he made it to the dirt road. A wooden fence wrapped itself all the way around the house, and the front gate was locked. Cole stood still for a few seconds, listening to make sure that he really was alone. He couldn’t afford any missteps now. He took three strides and quickly climbed up and over the fence.
Once on the other side, Cole made his way through the darkness toward the house. The house stood on stilts, lifting it above the tree line, providing a clear view of the sea from the front porch. Cole climbed the stairs up to the door. Like the front gate, it was locked, though a window only a few feet from the top of the staircase had been left open. Cole leaned toward the window and was able to grab it with one hand. Once he had one hand on the window, he was able to climb through it with relative ease. Getting inside the house was easier than Cole had expected. He had ample time to set up his ambush.
—
Carter didn’t intend to stay at the party for long after the girl with the neon nipples invited herself to his house. He meant to get back to ensure that he was there when she arrived. Carter probably should have realized she was too good to be true. He didn’t even ask himself why, if she wanted to be with him, she didn’t simply go home with him. He was blinded by the fact that everything around him was too good to be true and it was all happening, anyway. He had stopped believing in impossibilities. However, it took him some time to get his bearings before he could actually get up and leave. Even then, the onslaught of memories slowed him down. It was only the anticipation of newer, more powerful memories that moved him forward.
Even after he found his way out of the party, it was another twenty minutes before his taxi arrived to take him home. As the car drove down the dark, empty street, Carter began to realize how tired he was. He felt like he hadn’t slept in days, like his body had lived through thirty nights or more during the last few hours. He closed his eyes to rest and tried to recall a few of the memories that he’d just experienced. Some came to him. Others did not. The ones that didn’t immediately come back to him risked being lost forever.
Carter finally opened his eyes again when the car came to a halt in front of the Lost Horizon. He�
�d nodded off and forgotten where he was. Then he saw the house. It was dark, just as he’d left it. Carter paid the driver and stumbled toward the gate. He felt hungover even though he hadn’t touched a drink. He took out his keys and carefully inserted them into the gate’s lock. All those memories had taken their toll. He geared himself up, though. He was ready for more. He was ready for the woman with the neon nipples and whatever came with her.
Once through the gate, Carter walked through the yard to the stairs. He took out his keys again when he reached the top of the stairs, but before he slid the key into the keyhole, Carter reached down and twisted the doorknob. The door opened. He stepped inside, reached over, and turned on one of the lights. He glanced quickly around the room, but everything seemed to be in its proper place. As his eyes moved over the room, they failed to register Cole standing in the corner. He was only a shadow. That was, until he spoke.
“Are you having fun?” the shadow asked Carter after clearing its throat. It spoke with a clear and menacing voice.
Carter turned again and peered into the shadow. Fear was finally coming to him. “How did you get in here?”
“It’s a fence,” Cole answered him. “It’s not a fucking moat. I climbed over it.”
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” Carter asked. He still hadn’t gotten a good look at the man.
“I came to talk to you,” Cole said. “I think we have a lot to talk about.”
“I don’t understand,” Carter replied. Cole could hear the fear in his voice. “Did I do something wrong? I’m just doing what the book told me to do while I wait.” Carter assumed that Cole was a representative of the Company. If he’d simply come to rob the place, he wouldn’t want to stand there and chat.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Cole asked, confused by Carter’s strange answers.
“Wait, why are you here?” Carter asked, his voice rising higher with each new question. Then he stopped. Hope began to push away some of the fear. Constantly being surrounded by miracles gave Carter the hope to believe in another one. Maybe this man in the shadow hadn’t come to reprimand him. Maybe he’d come to give him something instead. “Is the next one ready for me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Cole responded, his frustration leaking into his voice. The conversation wasn’t going like he’d planned.
“They told me that there was a holdup, that I would have to wait.” Carter took two steps closer to Cole. “Did you guys solve the issues? Is that why you’re here?”
Nothing Carter said was making any sense to Cole. Cole thought that it may have been a trick of sorts, or a trap. He wasn’t going to fall for it. He didn’t want Carter getting any closer. He reached down and pulled out his gun, aiming it at Carter. Even in the shadows, there was no mistaking the gun for anything other than what it was, a tool of death. Carter saw the gun and stopped cold. “Don’t come any closer,” Cole ordered. “And don’t even think about trying to run away. I don’t know who you think I am but whoever it is, I am not him.”
The hope drained out of Carter as quickly as it had come. “Then who are you?” Carter asked, staring straight into the barrel of Cole’s gun.
“No,” Cole said, shaking his head. “You don’t get to ask the questions. I do. If I hear another question come out of you, I will end this conversation in the most unpleasant way possible for you. Understood?”
“Understood,” Carter answered, barely moving as he spoke, trying to figure out how this amazing night had devolved so quickly into this living hell. Carter had spent most of his life in total control. He hated this.
“How many?” Cole asked.
“How many wha—” Carter started to ask but then stopped himself, still unable to take his eyes off Cole’s gun. “I don’t understand the question,” Carter corrected himself.
“How many victims have there been?” Cole elaborated.
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about,” Carter said, his voice shaking. He could hear the anger in the voice of the man pointing the gun at him. Carter was afraid that his inability to answer the questions might send the madman teetering over the edge. He tried to speak in a slow, calm voice, but he couldn’t hide his fear.
“Don’t play games with me,” Cole said, purposely letting the anger seep into his voice. “I found you because I know what you’re doing here. I know that you’re here chasing triggers to another man’s memories. Are you going to try to deny that?”
Carter shook his head. “No,” he said to the man in the shadows with the gun. “I’m not going to deny it.” Carter could hear how powerless his voice sounded. It sounded nothing like the surfer’s voice. It didn’t even sound like his own voice, honed across years of meetings and negotiations. But that had always been about money. This was something else.
“So my question is simple,” Cole continued, speaking slowly, as if to a child. “How many others have there been?”
“I’m sorry,” Carter said, shaking his head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Cole leaned forward until part of his face dipped into the light. “How many other people’s memories do you have in your head?” Cole asked.
Carter understood the question now, but it didn’t clear up his confusion. He lifted a hand into the air with one carefully extended finger. “It’s just the one,” he said.
Cole stepped completely out of the shadows now. He knew how to interrogate people, how to ratchet up the tension, but he was beginning to get truly angry. “Don’t play games with me. I’ve seen two of the bodies myself. They were fished out of rivers a few hundred miles apart. I figured out how you got the memories, how you went through their mouths to extract them. I know about five of the others. So I’m going to ask one more time. How many other victims have there been?”
“I really don’t know,” Carter said, his voice pleading for mercy. “I only bought the one.”
That’s when some of Carter’s fear and confusion slipped back to Cole, like they were passing it back and forth between them. “What do you mean, you only bought the one?”
“I only found out about the Company a few months ago. I tried to order another memory, but they told me that there was some sort of holdup and that it was going to take some more time.”
“What company are you talking about?”
“The one that sold me the memory,” Carter said to Cole.
All the blood ran out of Cole’s face. Somehow he became even paler than usual. “You’re telling me that you purchased the memories?” Cole asked, looking for confirmation.
“Yes,” Carter said. “I mean, of course. How else would I get them? What did you think?” Carter forgot that he wasn’t supposed to be asking questions. Lucky for him, Cole forgot too. “You thought I killed him? I wouldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that. I’m not a killer.”
“You purchased the memories from a company. You paid for them?”
“Of course,” Carter said.
“How much did you pay for them?” Cole asked.
“For the ones I got?” Carter responded. “Eleven million dollars.”
Cole walked over to one of the chairs in the house and sat down. “You paid eleven million dollars for these memories?”
“Yes,” Carter replied, “and it was worth every penny. Of course, there were cheaper options, but you get what you pay for, you know?”
“You mean they gave you a choice?”
“Yes,” Carter answered. “There was a catalogue.”
“You picked from a catalogue?” Cole placed his gun on the coffee table in front of him and leaned back in his chair, dazed. “How many options did you have to choose from?” Cole felt like the world was crashing down around him.
“I don’t remember exactly,” Carter said. “Maybe a dozen. You could also make custom requests.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means that if you want something specific, like a mountain climber or a race car driver, you can as
k for it if you’re willing to pay extra, though that could take a really long time. You’d have to be willing to wait for years.”
“Or an attractive lesbian?” Cole suggested, remembering what Jerry had said to Meg.
Carter shrugged. “I guess. I never would have thought of that.”
Without either Cole or Carter realizing it, the sky around them had begun to grow lighter. The night had ended. Dawn was coming. When the first sliver of sun peaked over the horizon, the golden light shot through the house. It was only then that Carter got a truly clear view of Cole’s face, at which point he became even more confused. He recognized Cole. He just couldn’t pinpoint how. Carter, noting that the madman was no longer holding his gun, was inspired to ask a few more questions. “Who are you?” Carter asked Cole. “Where do I know you from?”
Cole shook his head. “You don’t know me. Having dead men’s memories can cause confusion sometimes. You think you recognize people that you don’t. Trust me. I know.”
“No,” Carter said. “That’s not it.” Then he snapped his fingers. “That’s how I know you. You’re that Memory Detective guy. Your picture was in the catalogue.”
“What?” Cole asked Carter, even though he’d heard him perfectly. “Why would my picture be in the catalogue? That can’t be true.”
The Memory Detective Page 27