Moonheart (37 page)

Tucker nodded and pointed to the line he'd just read. "What's this mean?"

"Manjushri was one of the Bodhisattvas," Traupman explained. "A Buddha-to-be, as it were. He was reputed to have conquered Yama, the god of death, and bore a sword in his hand as a memory of his victory. In the context of the poem, I am using him as an analogy to myself. Presumptuous, but it seemed fitting at the time."

"You mean you've conquered death by living to the age you are now?"

Traupman smiled. "That's one way of looking at it. But no. I'm referring to the fact that so many of my friends and colleagues have passed on. So I have met death, but not conquered him. For I'll die too, when my time comes. Hence I bear no sword."

"I never would have got that out of it," Tucker said.

"It takes work. But enough of my versifications. How can I help you?"

Tucker thought about that for a moment. "It's almost as complex as what you've just explained to me. Are you familiar with the PRB— the Paranormal Research Branch?"

"Vaguely. I was approached by a Superintendent Madison a year or so ago and asked if I would be willing to help out from time to time if my particular expertise was called for. Since then I've heard nothing."

"Well," Tucker said tiredly, "your expertise is damn well needed now. Let me lay out the problem for you and, if you believe even half of it, maybe you can give me an opinion on it. Okay?"

"Is this privileged information? If so, I'm not sure that—"

"You're cleared, if that was what you were worrying about. You were cleared before you were even approached."

"Do I have to swear some sort of oath now?" Traupman asked. He seemed amused by the idea. Tucker smiled with him, but thought of how he'd opened up to Gagnon with nothing but a handshake to keep the ADM quiet. Madison would have his balls if he heard about that.

"That won't be necessary," he said. "But if you could keep it to yourself, it'd be appreciated. You know you're being considered to head up the project now?"

Traupman's eyebrows lifted quizzically.

"Anyway, this is what we've got, Dick."

Traupman was a good listener. He heard the story through, backtracking once or twice to have some point cleared up, saving his own commentary for the end. Tucker liked that.

"Are we nuts, or what?" Tucker asked him when he was through.

Traupman shook his head slowly. "It all sounds so... impossible. I was under the impression that the PRB was involved in paranormal research— hence its name. By that I assumed it would primarily be studies of telepathy, telekinetics... that sort of thing. But this..."He said nothing for a moment, his eyes looking inward. Then he asked: "Why was the whole project centered around the one man, this Thomas Hengwr?"

"We had a lot of people in— primarily as controls. Hengwr was supposed to be the real thing."

"Yes. But the manner in which he was handled..."

"Tell me about it. But that's past history now. What I have to know now is, where do we go from here? And are you willing to help?"

"I..."Traupman looked at his desk, then his worktable. "Normally I'd say no, but what you've told me is simply too fascinating to ignore— though heading up the project seems a trifle much to expect."

"Whether you head it up or not, I could still use your help." Tucker decided that he liked this old man. If only they'd had someone like him running the project from the first, instead of that hotshot Hogue...

"I suppose," Traupman said, "that the first item on the agenda would be to discover the validity of what Jamie Tams has told you— though how we might accomplish that is beyond me."

"Well, maybe we could go out and talk to him. What do you think?"

"I think it's an admirable suggestion. I— Lord! I must say that I'm excited. I've dabbled in this field for so many years. But now... Just imagine if it could be proved that paranormal abilities
did
exist!"

Tucker smiled. "Feeling like what's-his-name again?"

"Manjushri. But yes. You're right." Traupman regarded the Inspector thoughtfully. "I think I will enjoy working with you, John."

"Well, let's go see if the feeling's mutual." Tucker looked at his watch and stood. "Mind if I use your phone?" he asked.

"Not at all. I'll get my coat."

Tucker got through to the Court House on Nicholas, but had to leave a message for Maggie as she was still closeted with her client. The case had been adjourned to the following day, which meant she'd probably be working late on it anyway. Still, there was no harm in trying. He left the number he had for Tamson House, hoping he wouldn't have to go looking for a phone on his own if she called. Traupman was waiting for him as he cradled the receiver.

"Jamie?" Blue called from the hall.

Jamie looked up from the viewscreen and turned. "Mmm?"

"Fred says that Tucker just pulled up. He's got some old white-haired guy in the car with him. Think it's a shrink?"

"Lord knows we could use one."

Jamie switched off the viewscreen, leaving Memoria to continue the program he'd entered.

"What do we do with Thomas Hengwr?" Blue asked.

Jamie'd been wondering the same thing. Make a clean breast of it? What if the Inspector wanted another tour? Why in God's name were they hiding Tom anyway? Because, the reply came, he was their only link to Sara.

"I don't know," he said at last. "Play it by ear?"

"And lose our heads?"

"What?"

Blue sighed. "Don't mind me," he said, and hummed the line about paranoia from the Buffalo Springfield song "For What It's Worth."

Standing beside him, Jamie laid a hand on the younger man's arm.

"It's getting to you, too, isn't it?" he asked.

"Damn right. When I think of Sara..."

"I think we should just hand him over," Sally said, joining them in the doorway. "The police are set up to handle this sort of thing."

Blue shook his head. "No way the cops are set up to handle anything this weird."

"And we are?"

"There's no clear answer," Jamie said. "Let's just go down and see what the Inspector wants this time. Sally, I'd appreciate it if you'd stay up here and keep an eye on Tom. And Blue?"

"Yeah?"

Jamie pointed to the rifle leaning against the wall.

"Maybe you should put that away," he said.

"It's already done," Blue said and, hefting the weapon, brought it into the study. He looked around, shrugged, then propped it up between two bookcases.

"Good afternoon, Inspector," Jamie said as he entered the kitchen. He glanced at Traupman. "And this is?"

"Dr. Richard Traupman."

Jamie smiled, recognizing the name. "A pleasure, doctor."

"Entirely mine, Mr. Tams. I've read your work on African myths in
Archaeology Today.
"

"Traupman?" Blue mused aloud. "Did you write that book— what was it called?
The Last Mistress?
"

"I'm afraid so."

"No shit? I mean, that was a good read. I enjoyed it a lot. I didn't know you lived in Ottawa."

Traupman spread his hands. "I'm surprised to be recognized."

"Thing I was wondering," Blue said, "is when Shaw has that chance to take Chanter when he's human—"

"Blue?"

Blue turned to Jamie, then remembered what they were here for.

"Well, maybe another time," he said with a shrug and took a seat at the table.

Jamie nodded to Fred who took that as an opportunity to leave, and sat down beside Blue. Propping his elbows on the table, he regarded Tucker.

"What can we do for you this time, Inspector?"

"It's your show, Dick," Tucker said to his companion.

"Yes. Well." Traupman smiled. "This is somewhat awkward, as I'm not sure where to begin."

"You're here about Thomas Hengwr, aren't you?" Jamie asked. "And because of what happened—" He caught himself. "Because of what we
say
happened here this morning."

Traupman nodded. "You must admit that it's quite... well, unbelievable."

"We've already been all through that with the Inspector," Blue said.

"Blue!"

"Okay, okay."

"I suppose we should begin with this," Traupman continued. "Have there been any new developments?"

Now was the moment, Jamie thought. He caught himself glancing at Blue and knew the biker was thinking the same thing. They could lay it all out now and be done with shouldering the responsibility on their own. That's what Jamie'd like to do, only where would that leave Sara? The RCMP weren't concerned with her. Just with what they could get out of Tom.

Think, dammit, he told himself.

The silence was starting to drag on. Tucker'd know they were hiding something. But it was so hard to think clearly. And then, before he could come to a decision, Sally appeared at the door to the Silkwater Kitchen, a look of poorly disguised worry on her face.

Tucker rose to his feet, his hand streaking to his hip. Shit, that sucker moves fast, Blue thought.

"Okay," Tucker said, letting his hand drop to his side when he saw that there was no immediate threat. "What's up? You people are hiding something and you'd better cough it up. Fast."

Jamie took a steadying breath.

"There have been one or two new developments, Inspector," he said, realizing the irony of that statement.

"Well, spill 'em."

"It's Thomas Hengwr. He showed up here, badly hurt, not long after you left earlier today."

"Hengwr?" Tucker loosed the word like a shot. "How badly hurt?"

"Well, that's one of the developments. His wounds have been healing by themselves while he's been in some sort of a coma."

"And you?" Tucker demanded of Sally. "What's your news?"

Sally swallowed, realizing that she'd blown it. But she'd had to come down. "He's coming around," she said.

Tucker glared at them all. "Jesus H. Christ! What is it with you people, anyway? Do you know what we've been going through trying to find Hengwr? I ought to run the bunch of you in for obstructing justice."

"Justice?" Blue snarled. "What does someone like you know about justice? You just want Hengwr so that you can play around with his head like he was some kind of guinea pig. You screw around with him and there goes our chance of finding Sara."

"Now you listen to me, asshole—"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Traupman's voice, though not loud, carded across their argument. "Why don't we go see Mr. Hengwr for ourselves and see what
he
has to say?"

Jamie nodded. "Before he ups and vanishes again."

Tucker sighed. "We're not finished yet," he told Blue.

"Anytime, man. You just set aside that badge you're hiding behind and—"

"Blue!"

"Okay, Jamie."

"Shall we, gentlemen?" Traupman asked. "If you would be so kind as to lead the way, miss."

Sally glanced at Jamie, then nodded.

"This way," she said.

She waited for Blue to catch up to her and took his arm. Leaning close so that the others wouldn't hear, she said: "Don't mess with him, Blue. You've got nothing to prove."

"I know. It's just that guys like him— King Shit with a badge..."

"Blue, please."

"Okay." His features softened. "I'm okay now."

Blue covered her hand with his own. He knew he'd been blowing it. Trouble was, Tucker just rubbed him the wrong way. All cops rubbed him the wrong way. All they had to do was look at him and it got his adrenaline running. It was a bad habit that he couldn't shake. Habit? Shit, it was instinct. Because people like himself always got screwed around. Sara'd told him often enough that it was his own attitude that caused it as much as anything, but... Well, you had to be an outcast in the first place to know what it meant. Some things you just couldn't shake.

Thinking of Sara, he made himself a promise that neither Jamie nor Sally would prevent him from keeping. If Tucker messed up their chances of getting Sara back, he was going to personally kill the fucker. Guaranteed. The ball was in Tucker's court now. Reaching the door to Gramarye's Clover where they were keeping Tom, he glanced back at the others.

"Open the door, Farley," Tucker snapped.

Before Blue could reply, Traupman touched the Inspector's arm.

"This ill will is not really necessary, is it, John?" he asked.

Tucker was about to tell Traupman to mind his own business, then thought better of it. He took a steadying breath instead. "You're right," he admitted.

"Open the door, Blue," Jamie said quietly.

Blue nodded and turned the knob.

"When you think of a bear," Ha'kan'ta asked, "how do you view its motion?"

She was nursing the coals of her campfire back into life with handfuls of shredded reeds and Kieran, bemused by watching her, was slow to reply. When she looked up, he blinked and found a response. "Lumbering, I suppose."

Ha'kan'ta shook her head. "Not so. Sometimes they shuffle, but there is always a grace to their every movement Think of it a moment."

Kieran thought. But Lord lifting Jesus, how often had he had the opportunity to check out how a bear moved?

The journey to Ha'kan'ta's campsite had been strange. Despite Kieran's misgivings, they'd both ridden on the back of Ak'is'hyr, the big bull moose Great-Heart that served Ha'kan'ta for a mount. The ride had taken twelve hours, but the sky above them had turned twice from deep blue to rich purple as they moved through the worlds. After the second sunset, they had reached Ha'kan'ta's camp and it was full night.

"Not far in time," Ha'kan'ta had told him when they left the quin'on'a, "or rather through time. But it lies many worlds from this lodge."

Kieran didn't really know where they were, except that the night had come twice as they moved through different worlds (and different time zones, he supposed), and instead of being near a lake, they were now by a river. Ha'kan'ta's lodge was set back from the river, in amongst the pines that clouded either bank with their dark boughs. The two wolves had awaited them at the camp, silver-furred in the moonlight.

"Shak'syo and May'asa," Ha'kan'ta had named them. Winter-Brother and Summer-Brother.