"And the PTL Network?"
"We're talking too much, Jack. I have work to do here."
Without taking his eyes off me he stooped to the floor, picked up and then emptied the pillowcase. He reached down and felt around in my belongings, his eyes always on me. Unsatisfied, he did the same with my computer bag, until he came up with the vial of pills I had gotten at the hospital. He glanced down quickly at the label, read it and looked back at me with a smile.
"Tylenol with codeine," he said and smiled. "This is going to work out nicely. Take one, Jack. Take two, in fact."
He tossed the vial to me and I instinctively caught it.
"I can't," I said. "I took one a couple hours ago. I can't take any for another two hours."
"Take two, Jack. Now."
His voice had stayed in a steady monologue but the look in his eyes chilled me. I fumbled with the cap and finally managed to open the vial.
"I need water."
"No water, Jack. Take the pills."
I put two of the pills into my mouth and tried to act as if I had swallowed them as I moved them under my tongue.
"Okay."
"Open wide, Jack."
I did and he leaned forward to look but he never came close enough for me to take a swing at the gun. He stayed out of reach.
"Know what I think? I think they're under your tongue, Jack. But that's okay because they'll dissolve. It'll just take a little extra time. I've got the-"
There was another creaking sound and he looked around but then quickly back at me.
"I've got the time."
"You wrote those PTL files. You're the Eidolon."
"Yes, I am the Eidolon, thank you. And to answer your earlier questions, I learned of the PTL board from Beltran. He was kind enough to be on-line the night I paid my visit to him. So I took his place on the net, so to speak. I used his passwords and later had the systems operator change them to Edgar and Perry. I'm afraid Mr. Gomble never knew that he had a . . . fox in the henhouse, to use your turn of phrase."
I looked at the mirror to my right and in it I could see the reflection of the Valley lights behind me. All those lights, all those people, I thought, and no one to see or help me. I felt the shudder of fear move through me, stronger.
"You have to relax, Jack," Backus said in a calming monotone. "That's the key. Are you feeling the codeine yet?"
The pills had broken up under my tongue and filled my mouth with an acrid taste.
"What are you going to do to me?"
"I'm going to do for you what I did for all of them. You wanted to know about the Poet? You are going to know all there is to know. Everything. Firsthand knowledge, Jack. You see, you are the choice. Remember what the fax said? The choice has been made, he's in my sights. That was you, Jack. All along."
"Backus, you sick fuck! You-"
My outburst jarred some of the debris loose in my mouth and I swallowed it before I could stop. Backus, seemingly knowing what had happened, burst out laughing but then abruptly cut it off. He glared at me and I could see a dim light in his unblinking eyes. I realized then how mad he was and it dawned on me that because Rachel was not the one, the thing that I had believed was part of her misdirection might in actuality be part of the real Poet's killing pattern. The condoms, the sexual aspects. It could all be part of his killing program.
"What did you do to my brother?"
"That was between him and me. Personal."
"Tell me."
He exhaled.
"Nothing, Jack. Nothing. He was the one who wouldn't go along with the program. He was my one failure. But now I have the closest thing to a second chance. I won't fail this time."
I looked down at the ground. I could feel the effects of the painkillers beginning to move through me. I squeezed my eyes shut and balled my fists but it was too late. The poison was in my blood.
"There's nothing you can do," Backus said. "Just relax, Jack, let it take you. Soon it will all be over."
"You're not going to get away. There's no way Rachel's not going to see this for what it was."
"You know, Jack, I think you are one hundred percent correct. She'll know. She may already. That's why I'm leaving after this. You are the last chore on my list, then I take my leave."
I didn't get it.
"Leaving?"
"I'm sure Rachel already has her suspicions. That's why I've had to keep sending her to Florida. But it's only a temporary deflection. Soon enough she'll know. That's why it's time to shed the skin and move on. I've got to be me, Jack."
His face lit up with the last line. I thought he was about to sing it but he didn't.
"How's it feeling now, Jack? A little light-headed?"
I didn't reply but he knew the answer was yes. I felt like I was beginning to slip into a void of darkness, a boat going over the falls. All the while Backus just watched, talking in his calm monotone, using my name often.
"Let it work itself through you, Jack. Just enjoy these moments. Think about your brother. Think about what you are going to say to him. I think you should tell him what a great investigator you turned out to be. Two in the family, that's something. Think of Sean's face. Smiling. Smiling at you, Jack. Now let your eyes close until you can see him. Go ahead. Nothing's going to happen. You're safe, Jack."
I couldn't help it. My eyelids were drooping. I tried to look away from him. I stared at the lights in the mirror but the fatigue still grabbed me and took me under. I closed my eyes.
"That's good, Jack. Excellent. Do you see Sean now?"
I nodded, then I felt his hand on my left wrist. He moved it onto the arm of the chair. Then he did the same with my right arm.
"Perfect, Jack. You're a wonderful subject. So cooperative. Now I don't want you to feel any pain. No pain, Jack. No matter what happens here, you will not feel any pain, do you understand that?"
"Yes," I said.
"I don't want you to move, Jack. In fact, Jack, you cannot move. Your arms are like dead weights. You cannot move them. Isn't that right?"
"Yes," I said.
My eyes were still closed and my chin was resting on my chest but I was totally aware of my surroundings. It was as if my mind and body had separated. It was as if I was looking down from above at myself in the chair.
"Open your eyes now, Jack."
I did as I was told and saw Backus standing before me. His gun was holstered under his open jacket and in one hand he now held a long steel needle. This was my chance. The gun was in the holster but I could not move from the chair or reach out to him. My mind could no longer send messages to my body. I sat motionless and could only watch as he matter-of-factly pressed the point of the needle into my unbandaged palm. He repeated the procedure with two of my fingers. I made no move to stop it.
"That's good, Jack. I think you are ready for me now. Remember, arms like dead weights. You just can't move them no matter how much you want to. You can't speak, no matter how much you want to. But keep your eyes open, Jack, you don't want to miss this."
He stepped back and looked at me with an appraising look.
"Who's best now, Jack?" he asked. "Who's the better man? Who has won and who has lost?"
My mind filled with revulsion. I couldn't move my arms or speak but still felt the energy wave of absolute fear go screaming through me. I felt tears form in my eyes but they didn't fall. I watched as his hands went to his belt buckle and he said, "I don't even have to use rubbers anymore, Jack."
Just as he said that the light in the alcove behind him went out. Then I saw movement in the shadows left behind and heard her voice. Rachel.
"Don't move an inch, Bob. Not even an inch."
She said it calmly and confidently. Backus froze, his eyes on mine, as if he could see her reflection in them. They were dead eyes. His right hand, shielded from Rachel's view, started moving inside his jacket. I wanted to call out a warning but I could not. At once, I strained every muscle of my body to move just an inch and my left leg kicked out from the
chair impotently.
But it was enough. The hold Backus had was losing its grip.
"Rachel!" I yelled just as Backus pulled his gun from his holster and spun around on her.
There was an exchange of shots and Backus was launched backward onto the floor. I heard the shattering of one of the glass panels and the cool evening air rushed into the room as Backus scrambled to cover behind the chair I sat in.
Rachel dipped around the corner, grabbed the lamp and jerked it away from the socket. The house plunged into a darkness only interrupted by the stray light from the Valley below. Backus fired twice more at her, the report of his weapon so close to my head it was deafening. I felt him jerk the chair backward to give him better cover. I was like a man coming out of a deep dream, struggling just to move. As I began to pull myself up, his hand clamped over my shoulder and pulled me back down into the chair. It held me in place.
"Rachel," Backus called out. "You shoot and you hit him, you want that? Put the gun down and come out. We'll talk about this."
"Forget it, Rachel," I called. "He'll kill us both. Shoot him! Shoot him!"
Rachel swung around the bullet-pocked wall once more. This time she was low to the ground. The barrel of her gun took a bead on a spot just over my right shoulder but she hesitated. Backus didn't. He fired twice more as Rachel dove back to cover and I saw the corner of the alcove entrance explode in plaster dust and debris.
"Rachel!" I yelled.
I dug the heels of both shoes into the carpet and in one great burst of what strength I could command I shoved the chair back as hard and as quick as I could.
The move surprised Backus. I felt the chair hit him solidly, its impact knocking him away from cover. At that moment Rachel wheeled around the corner of the alcove and the room exploded in the light of another round being fired from her gun.
Behind me I heard a shriek from Backus and then silence. My eyes now adjusted to the dim light, I saw Rachel step out of the alcove and come toward me. She held her gun raised in both hands, her elbows locked. The weapon was pointed past me. I slowly turned as she stepped by. At the precipice, she pointed the gun down toward the darkness into which Backus had fallen. She stood stock still for at least a half a minute before being satisfied that he was gone.
Silence gripped the house. I felt the cool night air against my skin. She finally turned and came to me. Grabbing my arm, she pulled me up until I was standing.
"Come on, Jack," she said. "Come out of it. Are you hurt? Are you hit?"
"Sean."
"What?"
"Nothing. Are you all right?"
"I think so. Are you hit?"
I noticed her looking at the floor behind me and turned around. There was blood on the floor. And shattered glass.
"No, that's not me," I said. "You hit him. Or the glass got him."
I stepped back to the edge with her. There was only blackness below. The only sounds were the breeze through the trees down there and traffic noises filtering up from further down.
"Rachel, I'm sorry," I said. "I thought it . . . I thought it was you. I'm sorry."
"Don't say it, Jack. We'll talk about it later."
"I thought you were on a plane."
"After I talked to you I knew something wasn't right. Then Brad Hazelton called and told me what you had called him about. I decided to talk to you before I left. I went to the hotel and saw you leaving with Backus. I don't know why but I followed. I guess it was because Bob had sent me to Florida before when he should have sent Gordon. I didn't trust him anymore."
"How much did you hear up here?"
"Enough. I just couldn't make a move until he holstered his weapon. I'm sorry you had to go through all of that, Jack."
She stepped back from the edge but I stayed there, staring into the darkness.
"I didn't ask him about the others. I didn't ask him why."
"What others?"
"Sean, the others. Beltran got what he deserved. But why Sean? Why the others?"
"There's no explanation, Jack. And if there was, we'll never know it now. My car's down the road a bit. I need to go back and call for backup and a helicopter to search the canyon. To make sure. I better call the hospital, too."
"Why?"
"To tell them how many of those pills you've taken and to see what we should do about it."
She started walking toward the entrance alcove.
"Rachel," I called after her. "Thanks."
"Anytime, Jack."
50
Pretty soon after Rachel left I passed out on the couch. The sound of a close helicopter invaded my dreams but not enough to wake me. Finally, when I awoke on my own, it was three in the morning. I was taken to the thirteenth floor of the federal building and placed in a small interview room. Two dour-faced agents I had never met before asked me questions for the next five hours, going over my story again and again until I was sick of regurgitating it. For this interview they did not have a stenographer sit in the corner of the room with her machine because this time we were talking about one of their own and I had the feeling that they wanted to sculpt my story into the form that could best serve them before putting it down on the record.
Sometime after eight they finally said I could go down to the cafeteria for breakfast before they brought the stenographer in and made a formal record. By then we had been over the story so many times I knew exactly how they wanted me to answer nearly every question. I wasn't hungry but I wanted out of that room and away from them so badly I would have said yes to anything. At least they didn't escort me down to the cafeteria like a prisoner.
I found Rachel sitting there, alone at a table. I bought a coffee and a sugar doughnut that looked like it was three days old and went over.
"Can I sit here?"
"It's a free country."
"Sometimes I wonder. Those guys, Cooper and Kelley, they've held me in that room up there for five hours."
"You've got to understand something. You're the messenger, Jack. They know you are going to go out from here and tell the story in newspapers, on TV, probably a book. The whole world will know about the FBI's one bad apple. It doesn't matter how much good we do or how many bad guys we stop, the fact that there was a bad guy among us is going to be a big, big story. You are going to be rich and we are going to have to live with what comes after. That, in a nutshell, is why Cooper and Kelley aren't treating you like a prima donna."
I studied her for a few moments. It looked like she had eaten a full breakfast. I could see egg yolk smeared on her empty plate.
"Good morning, Rachel," I said. "Maybe we can start over."
That just got her mad.
"Look, Jack, I'm not going to treat you gently, either. Just how do you expect me to react to you now?"
"I don't know. The whole time with those guys I've been answering their questions but doing nothing but thinking about you. About us."
I studied her face for reaction but got none. She was looking down at her plate.
"Look, I could try to explain to you all the reasons I thought it was you but it wouldn't matter. It all comes down to me, Rachel. Something in me is missing and . . . I couldn't accept what you offered without some suspicion, some kind of cynicism. It was from that small doubt that everything grew and got blown out of proportion. . . Rachel, you have my apology and my promise that if I were given a new chance with you I would work to overcome it, to fill that void. And I promise you that I would succeed."
Still nothing, not even eye contact. I became resigned. It was over.
"Rachel, can I ask you something?"
"What is it?"
"Your father. And you . . . Did he hurt you?"
"Do you mean did he fuck me?"
I just looked at her, silently.
"That's part of me and my life I don't have to talk to anyone about."
I turned my coffee cup on the table, staring at it like it was the most interesting thing I'd ever seen. Now I was the one who couldn't look up.
> "Well, I've got to get back up there," I finally said. "They only gave me fifteen minutes."
I made a move to stand up.
"Have you told them about me?" she asked.
I stopped.
"About us? No, I've been trying to avoid that."
"Don't hold back with them, Jack. They already know, anyway."
The Poet (1995) Page 49