Descent from Xanadu (30 page)

“That’s young,” Judd said. He picked up the telephone to the pilot. “Let’s take it back to the base.”

John looked at him. “You don’t want to look over the retreat and the property?”

“We already have that on tape, haven’t we?” Judd asked.

“Yes.”

“Then let’s look at it in the office. It’s got to be more comfortable there than here in this sardine can.”

***

The offices were on the eighteenth floor of a new green, all-glass building on Century Boulevard, near the entrance to the Los Angeles Airport. The conference room was an interior room without windows. In the center of the room was a large table covered completely with a papier-mâché bas-relief map of the Church of Eternal Life and the entire surrounding area.

John gestured with a wooden pointer. “The scale of the map is one inch to the quarter-mile. The red line shows the boundaries of the property, from the bluff against the sea down to the gates closing the private road from the Coast Highway.

“You’ll notice two circles of yellow. The larger one indicates the boundary of the bluff where the copter landed. The smaller is the boundary of the open area around the road gates. The yellow lines are our drop targets.”

“Why can’t we just blow through the gates?” Judd asked.

“Not that easy. There are three tracks of rolled hardened steel bars, twenty feet high, each gate opening in the opposite direction from the next, one to the right, next to the left and so on, finally to the right again. They are all electrified, connected to barbed wire at the top of the stone fence around the property. They are also tied to the police and fire departments of Malibu and fire departments of Malibu and Trancas. The Maharishi has made sure that everything is legally correct at the retreat. Needless to say, his relationships with the local authorities are cordial.”

“How do you plan to get in then?” Judd asked. “Parachutes?”

“No,” John answered. “First, the planes would be heard, second, we’d need at least a two-thousand-foot drop to maneuver the chutes onto the targets. We have to go in low and silent.”

“Okay,” Judd repeated. “How?”

“Hang gliders.”

“Good idea,” Judd said.

The pointer touched a peak across the Coast Highway slightly north of the retreat. “There’s a plateau at the top of this point that’s some eight hundred feet above the bluff,” John went on. “I have ten flyers who tell me they can do it.”

“But they need the right wind,” Judd said. “First they’ll drop, but if they don’t catch the wind, they won’t get up.”

“I have two catapults already set up there. We’ll catapult straight out, like a plane on an aircraft carrier. They’ll get up all right.” John nodded, pleased. “The next problem is the Maharishi’s security. We’re fortunate in one respect. He allows no firearms or other weapons. But all his men are black belts and masters of the martial arts. In addition, he has approximately twelve to fifteen Doberman guard dogs patrolling the grounds at night. But even the dogs are taught not to kill, only to hold and immobilize.”

“Those’re the pluses,” Judd pressed. “What are the minuses?”

“Clear skies,” John said. “We could be seen easily. What we need is either heavy fog or a low cloud cover. More than force-four winds from the sea would blow our asses to the ground, far away from the target. Lastly, if we don’t silence the dogs and the guards at the very first moment, they’ll blow the alarms and we’re fucked.”

“How do you expect to silence them so quickly?” Judd asked.

John brought out a curious, long-barreled handgun. “This fires twelve darts automatically. Each dart knocks out man or beast on contact. They’ll sleep about four hours and wake up with a hangover that will last another two.”

Judd looked at the security man. “Suppose everything goes well, then what?”

“You’ll be in the car about one hundred yards down the road. We open the gates and you come in like the President himself.”

“When do you plan to do this?”

“It’s up to the weather,” John answered. “The five-day weather forecast isn’t great for us. Clear skies all the way. But this is the Pacific. Anything can happen. At most any time.”

“Can you give me a one-day advance notice?”

“Probably,” John said. “Why?”

Judd looked at him. “It’s about ten days since Sofia took her vacation. I thought I’d run over and see her.”

“She never went for the program,” John said.

“I know,” Judd nodded. “She said she doesn’t want to be anyone else. She likes being herself.”

“You got to hand it to her,” John said. “The lady’s got balls.”

Judd laughed. “That’s not all she’s got.”

“We’ll have to rearrange security,” John said.

“That’s right,” Judd said. “But that’s the way the game’s played.”

15

A knock came at her door. “Mrs. Evans?”

She recognized Judd’s voice. “Just one moment,” she called, turning to the mirror over the dresser. She touched up her makeup. A little lip gloss; a soft pat of the dark cake of face powder accentuated the dyed coloring of her chestnut-brown, short curled hair. She turned from the mirror to the door and opened it. She allowed herself no facial expression. “Yes?” she asked.

Judd looked at her, then he smiled quizzically.

“Mrs. Evans? I must have made a mistake. Do I know you?”

“Judd!” she laughed. She pulled him into her arms. She pressed herself against him and kissed him. “Now do you know me?”

“Can’t miss,” he said, smiling. He looked at her approvingly. “My God, you’re beautiful,” he said. “No matter what they did they couldn’t take that away from you. Beautiful.”

“Do you really like it?”

“Yes, really. And you were right not to let them cap your teeth. Everything works.”

“Don’t make me cry,” she said, trying to laugh. “I’ll lose my contacts, I’m not used to them yet.”

He smiled at her. “First you’re a woman.”

She nodded silently. She knew what he meant.

“Do you feel up to some doctor talk?” he asked. She led him to the table near the window, where they sat. “Some juice?” she asked. “They make fresh pineapple juice. It’s very good.”

“Fine.”

She went to the refrigerator and poured two glasses from a plastic carafe. She held up her glass to him. “It’s not Cristale,” she smiled. “But cheers, anyway.”

“Cheers.”

“Okay,” she said. “Let me have it.”

His face was serious. “Sawyer wants me to stop all the treatments now.”

“Did he say why?”

“The scans show a minuscule enlargement of the brain. Less than half a millimeter over the total area, so it’s not a growth or tumor that concerns him or the neurologists. The last scan I had was ten months ago. The enlargement has occurred since then.”

“Have you had any unusual pressures or headaches?”

“No.”

“Any problems of locomotion, orientation, hearing or vision?” she pursued.

“No,” he answered.

“Sexual, urinary or digestive problems?”

“No.”

She was silent again for a moment. “Do you have any problem sleeping, loss of concentration or physical and mental tiredness?”

“No.”

“Weight loss or gain?”

“Always the same,” he said, “one-sixty.”

“Height loss?”

He laughed. “That’s a funny question. Still six-one. Why do you ask?”

“Aging process,” she said. “At a certain age the skeleton shrinks.”

“I’m not that old yet,” he said.

“I agree,” she said. “But I’m just asking.” Silently, she took another sip of her juice. She looked at his eyes. They were clear and cobalt blue against the bright sun from the window. “Do you feel any slowing down of your thought processes?”

“Quite the contrary,” he said. “They seem much faster. Sometimes the thoughts rush so quickly through my head that I consciously have to slow them down to retain them, or the thought seems already the deed.”

“Like now?” she asked.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Do you see me as I am now?” she explained. “Or do you see me as I was before my cosmetic changes?”

He looked at her. “You always look the same.”

“Close your eyes,” she said. She waited until his lids were shut. “Describe me,” she asked.

“You’re five-eight or nine, weight about one-thirty, you have long blonde hair, gray eyes, full breasts about thirty-nine or forty with strong, jutting nipples, waist twenty-six or seven, hips about thirty-eight or nine—”

“That’s fine,” she said, interrupting him. “Now, open your eyes and describe me.”

A surprised look came into his eyes. “You don’t look like that at all. You have short brown hair. You have brown eyes.” A puzzled sound came into his voice. “Why did I think that?”

“You were describing your memories,” she said. “Not what you saw.”

He fell silent for a moment. “Is that bad?”

“No,” she said. “Quite normal. We all see inside our heads what we remember. It takes a little time to replace memory with reality.”

“But I thought my thought processes were faster than before,” he said.

“You’re probably right,” she said. “But your new vision of me is still so fresh in your memory that you reached over it to the older memory. If you closed your eyes again, you would probably see the new reality.”

He closed his eyes and sat for a moment. “You were right,” he said slowly. He looked at her. “And I thought I was doing something special.”

“You sound disappointed,” she said.

“I am,” he said. “I thought I was far ahead of everyone else.”

“You are. And you aren’t. Don’t forget you’re still a human being.”

“Will I always be like that?” he asked. “Living in my memories?”

“Probably,” she said, then added, “Unless you live forever. Then you’ll have to discover a way to lose many of your memories or you may overburden your brain.”

He stared at her. “Could that be the reason my brain is enlarging? So that it can store and handle more memory banks?”

She met his eyes. “I don’t know. But I should think not. Biologically and anthropologically, the human brain is the result of millions of years of evolution. We have never known of a normal human brain changing as a result of mutation.” She fell silent for a moment. “Remember one thing, however. The brain functions within the limitations of the human skull that contains it. And bone does not stretch.”

He looked from her face to the wall behind her.

“Also remember,” she added, “the size of the brain means nothing in relation to mental powers. The brain of a cow is much larger than a human brain.”

He looked into her eyes. “Then what do you suggest?”

“I’ll go along with Sawyer,” she concluded. “Let’s hold up the treatments. At least until we learn more about the cause of this condition.”

“Sawyer wants me to go back into the hospital in Boca Raton.”

“That makes sense,” she said.

“I don’t have the time.”

She looked at him quizzically. “What difference does time make for a man who plans to live forever?”

He sat there thoughtfully without replying.

“I have a feeling,” she went on, “that you know something you haven’t shared with Sawyer or me.”

He was still silent.

She offered a guess. “Are Xanadu and the DNA chemical cell-engineering project related somehow?”

“Don’t be a smart-ass,” he said flatly. But he showed no sign of anger. “I told you I’d tell you at the right time.”

She shrugged in acceptance. “But you don’t plan to go to Boca Raton?”

“That’s right,” he answered.

“What are you doing then?” she asked.

“I’m planning to have a meeting with the Maharishi,” he said.

“The appointment has been made?”

“I didn’t say that,” he answered. “We’re just going to drop in on him.”

“I’d like to meet him with you,” she said.

“If you do, you might blow your cover,” he said.

“What cover?” she asked. “I’ve already told them I am not interested in their program.”

“Sooner or later, then, they’ll find you.”

She looked into his eyes. “I’m not much concerned about that,” she said. “My professional curiosity is much more important. Maybe the man has some of the knowledge we’re searching for.”

“And that’s worth your life?”

Her eyes didn’t waver. “I myself have no desire to live forever, Judd.”

He was expressionless. “I’m beginning to feel that I was selfish in coming to see you.”

“Don’t feel like that,” she said softly. “I love you. And if you hadn’t come to see me, I would have gone to you.”

16

The telephone on the table between them rang sharply. She picked it up. “Mrs. Evans.”

“Dr. Walton,” a voice replied. “Is our friend still there?”

“Yes.”

“May I speak with him?”

“Of course,” she said, then added, “Trouble?”

“I don’t know. But Fast Eddie has just come into my office. He thinks they have picked up a tail.”

“I’ll put him on,” she said.

Judd took the telephone. “Yes?” He listened for a moment, then looked over at Sofia. “Go to the window and let me know if you can see a white van about five cars behind the limousine.”

Sofia looked down. “Yes,” she said. “I can see it.”

“Is there any lettering on the side?”

“Island Laundry,” she answered.

“Anything else? A telephone number?”

“I don’t see one,” she said.

“Come back from the window,” he told her. “Even though the windows are one-way glass, I don’t want to take any chances.” He spoke into the telephone. “Island Laundry. Do you have anything on them?”

“Never heard of them,” Brad said. “We use Waikiki. Fast Eddie also tells me that two men came into the lobby just as you went up in the elevator, and they are still hanging around there.”

“Shit,” Judd said.

“Should we hassle them?” Brad asked.

“That’ll only give us away,” Judd said. He thought for a moment. “We’ll pull the old hat trick. Only the hat will be a patient.”

“Got it.”

“How long do you need to get it together?” Judd asked.

“Give me fifteen minutes,” Brad said, clicking off the phone.

Judd looked at her. “I’m sorry.”

“What about?”

“Because I blew my own rules. I ordered that no one was to bring you near me for your own protection, and I fucked it up myself.”