Eye to Eye: Ashton Ford, Psychic Detective (16 page)

"And then?" I prompted.

"And then they take us over. It seems that
the level of intrigue is approaching critical mass. I feared this
would happen. Ever since..."

"Ever since I barged in," I guessed.

"Oh... no. Don't blame yourself, Ashton." He
passed a hand over his face in a weary manner. "We all have known
it was just a matter of time."

The guy sure
seemed
sincere. If it
was some dumb game being played then he was very good at
it.

"At least we are fortunate to be in the
United States. Our colleagues on the other side were taken over
months ago. Their work has suffered accordingly. Ah well. That says
something, does it not, for scientific autonomy. We have been
saying for years that science knows no politics. The problem, you
see, is to convince the politicians of that."

I commented, "You've been working under a
deal with Washington, then."

He smiled wanly as he replied, "More like a
standoff. We have been threatening to call in the press unless we
get a free hand in this. And, of course, the politicians in
power—all politicians in power—are dead set against a free press,
for all their sanctimonious claptrap about the freedoms."

I asked him, drawn into the "problem"
despite myself, "So what does this do to you, now?"

He said, "What it does to us, Ashton, is to
impose a near-impossible deadline on our program. We have been
working on a crash basis all these months, as it is."

"Are you saying the government will shut you
down?"

"What they will do is
tantamount to a shutdown. We inhabit a very intolerant age, Ashton.
This age, indeed, will no doubt be looked back upon by future
historians as the very Age of Intolerance. For this country,
anyway. Yet it is all being done under the guise of progress.
Progress. What nonsense. We manacle ourselves and call it
progress."

I suggested, "A slowdown, maybe. But surely
not a shutdown, if what you have here is really..."

"Slowdown, shutdown, it's all the same, I
fear. How can anyone know how much time we have?" He snapped his
fingers. "It came like this." Snapped them again. "It could
disappear the same way. It is imperative that we seize the moment.
Give the bureaucrats their debating platforms and we shall lose the
moment by default. No, Ashton, no. We must push on. We must meet
the goal within the next..." He consulted his wristwatch. "...
twenty hours."

"How impossible is that?" I wondered
aloud.

"Twenty-four hours ago, I would have said
utterly impossible. Now, however..."

"Now, however..." I prompted him.

"Well, Ashton, now there is you."

Oh sure, I thought. Now there is another
setup. If these guys were playing games...

"Which reminds me," I said, suddenly feeling
entirely boorish. "Jennifer would have me believe that you have
succeeded in invading my brain without dismantling it. Some new
technique. Surely she jests."

He laughed softly. "Our understanding seems
to be advancing in quantum leaps, since we've begun this... Also,
of course, we have had the jinn to assist us. So..."

I growled, misunderstanding, "Jen?"

He smiled. "Had to call it
something." He spelled it for me, then went on to explain: "From
the charming Moslem legend. They called them
djinni
or
jinni
. The plural form is
djinn
or
jinn,
whichever spelling
you prefer. We settled on
jinn
as both singular and plural. In the legends,
the
djinn
are
supernatural beings who can take the form of whatever they
please—animal, human, whatever—and they can influence human
affairs. Seemed highly appropriate to our situation, so..
.jinn."

I said, "Same as genie."

He smiled and replied, "Aladdin and his
magic lamp, yes, in which a jinni was held captive through some
magic charm and forced to grant the wishes of any mortal who knew
the secret of how to invoke his powers."

I asked, musingly, "Could that charming
legend be an allegorical truth to some degree?"

All he said was, "That could be said of many
of our myths and legends."

I asked, "Do your jinn grant wishes to
mortals?"

He smiled slyly as he replied, "It would
almost seem so. Of course, we have yet to fully divine the secrets,
but I do believe that we are getting closer, much closer. See here,
Ashton, there is a very fine—almost an evanescent influence at work
here—so fine that it would have gone unnoticed except for a stroke
of luck, an almost insignificant perturbation noted within the
solar system. We went looking for the cause of that and found the
jinn. But the terrestrial influence is just barely detectable using
the most sensitive instruments. However, we have developed a method
for gathering and refocusing this almost evanescent particle spray,
and we have noted some rather spectacular material effects as we
refocus into biological target matter."

I said, "I understand that
there was some sort of beam covering only the Palomar area, another
in the Caucasus mountains of Russia."

"That is true, yes, if you
qualify the term
beam
as defining a particle stream within definite boundaries.
However, these beams are composed of particles at extremely low
density. They do not seem to interact with ordinary atmospheric
matter in any manner sufficient to announce their presence in our
atmosphere. On the other hand..."

I said, "That other hand is..."

"The nature of the
particle itself, the jinn. As I said, hardly any interaction
whatever with ordinary matter. With biological matter, however—and,
in particular, with nerve tissue—the interaction can be quite
spectacular, even in the finely diffused form. The interactive rate
is in direct proportion to density, though, which is quite on the
low side, so that the effect is rather weak. By refocusing the
collective energy and thereby effectively raising the density,
then, the interactive rate is naturally increased rather
dramatically and so is the effect."

I took a shot. "Your new wrinkle with the
electron microscope, then, is..."

Esau smiled. "New wrinkle,
yes, that is good terminology. Our jinn irradiates the nerve
cell
from within the cell itself.
And it emerges in a state which I like to
characterize as 'highly colored.' We can read those color bands.
They give a rather interesting account of the processes occurring
within the cell from which the jinn emerges."

I guessed, "But you could not use this
microscopy anywhere except..."

He said, "Exactly. At our
present level of understanding, we cannot produce these particles
ourselves. And, of course, we cannot store the free ones in a box
and carry them about with us. We can only refocus what is naturally
present and—"

I said,
"
Naturally
present?"

He smiled. "Surely you
would not wish that I characterize the jinn as
super
naturally present."

"But if the beams are
intelligently directed..."

"Well," he said, with a
look of total dismissal, "there is nothing
un
intelligent about natural
processes. Matter of semantics, I trust."

I did not trust that, at
all. And my jury was sort of "hung," once again, on the whole
matter. But I definitely was wavering, and tilting toward these
people, once again. After all, these guys obviously did not intend
to blow up the world. At least not within the next day or two.
Surely I could string along for another...

I said to Esau, "There are
a number of troubling things on my mind but I guess they can wait,
for the moment. I am very disturbed that no one has produced Isaac
for my inspection, though obviously he is the center of this
program. I am disturbed, also, about Jennifer. There are several
questions there. Most notably among them, the book she published
twenty-two years ago—at the age, I presume, of eight to ten. And I
am disturbed about something I
think
Holden let drop to me in a
conversation awhile ago—something to do with wanting to 'go back'
somewhere but failing some sort of qualifications. I would
like—"

"Dear Holden," Esau said
quietly. "The finest man I have ever known, and that needs no
qualification whatever. He has been the very soul of generosity and
moral support in this endeavor. All our material needs have been
met, thanks to him. He has literally spent a huge fortune these
past few months, setting us up, providing the necessary tools and
equipment. We would have been lost, utterly lost, without him. But,
Ashton..."

"Yes ?”

"Do not invest undue credulity in anything
Holden may say."

I said, "He hasn't slipped that far."

"I'm afraid he has. It is regrettable to see
such a fine mind become so disarranged, but it does happen and it
has happened to Holden."

I said, "I'll just reserve judgment on that,
if you don't mind, along with the other items."

He said, "I can understand
why you took your little walk. I just hope you can understand that
we desperately need your support, especially now, and that you can
understand why we wanted another opportunity to recruit you. I gave
the Palas severe instructions that they were not to harm you in any
way, nor even to place hands upon you. I trust that they obeyed
those instructions."

"Oh sure," I replied breezily. "I even
bought them a beer. Why am I so important to you, Esau?"

"We need your gift."

I told him, "I don't use it. It uses me. I
can't make it happen. I have failed every scientific test ever
devised for me. I can't promise that—"

"We think we know how it uses you,
Ashton."

That rocked me back, a
bit.

My eyes strayed toward the study as I
replied to that. "Is that a 'jinn' equation in there?"

He laughed softly. "Oh yes. And quite a bit
more. We just don't have the final solution."

"But you think I can help you get it."

"Yes. We are almost positive about that,
now."

"Then why don't you just knock me out again
and take it away from me?" I inquired lightly.

He said, "I suppose we deserve that. Again,
I apologize, for the team as a whole."

"But you did not answer the question."

"We cannot take it from you, Ashton. We need
your active cooperation."

I said, "But something is bothering you
about that."

"You are quite perceptive. Yes. Something is
bothering me."

“
And that
is...?”

"There is a certain element of danger
involved."

"For me?"

"Yes. For you. Perhaps for all of us."

"Do you want me to invoke the djinn for you,
Esau?"

He laughed, but not very convincingly.

And that is precisely what he wanted. Yeah,
he wanted that.

Chapter Nineteen: Mutant

I told Esau, "I need to use the
telephone."

He said, "Certainly," and slid it toward
me.

I called Souza's office and told Foster,
"It's Ford. Put Souza on, quick."

Foster replied, "Sorry,
sir, he is presently un-available."

I said, "Foster, you recognize my
voice."

"Yes, sir. But Mr. Souza
is presently out of reach."

I told him, "Make every effort to reach him.
At the very earliest. Tell him the Code Red was a false alarm. Tell
me you understand that."

"Yes sir, I understand, the Code Red is a
false alarm."

I said, "This is for real, Foster."

"I understand that, sir."

But I had the feeling that he did not. I
told him, "I mean that this cancellation is for real. Greg is to
undertake no action, repeat no action, on my behalf. Tell me that
you understand that."

"I understand that, sir. No action on your
behalf. I will relay the message at the first opportunity."

I said, "It is very
important that you do that."

I hung up and slid the phone back to Esau,
smiled, told him, "That's to keep the marines off your back. If I
know Souza like I think I know Souza... Pain in the butt,
sometimes, but a loyal pain in the butt."

Esau said, "Thank you, Ashton," in that
strangely ponderous speech.

The elderly Pala woman
brought ham and cheese sandwiches, gelatin desserts, coffee. We
had lunch right there at the bar, with very little conversation.
Esau seemed absorbed in his own thoughts and I had a few of my own
to massage.

It was nearing one o'clock
on Monday afternoon when Esau took me to Laura's private lab. It
was located in one of the small outbuildings and was outfitted with
what appeared to be cryogenic equipment. Cryogenics is, literally,
the science of cold temperature phenomena, has to do with the
liquification of gases such as hydrogen and helium, which reach the
liquid state at supercold temperatures.

But Laura was not studying cryogenics. Such
equipment, here, was utilized purely as a tool for biological
experiments. A number of those appeared to be in progress. Fully
encapsulated "culture dishes" lined several shelves and overflowed
onto a workbench area.

Esau left me at the door and returned to his
own work. Laura took my hand with a warm smile and led me to her
"bench," sat me down, produced a thick stack of 8 X 10 glossy
photographs, said, humorously, "At least, now, Ashton, you can
prove that you have a brain."