The Link (40 page)

They are correct on every single one.

“We believe,” Dr. Vilenskaya tells the group after the tests have concluded, “that this is just a beginning. That, in actuality, the human body is covered with microscopic organs united with the central nervous system and that these are, in fact dormant eyes.

“Interestingly enough,” she adds, “seeing with the skin is something the Samoans practiced thousands of years ago.”

Robert stares at her. Of all the wonders they have seen that afternoon, her last remark seems the most wonderful of all. It makes him flash back to their lunch with Bellenger, the scientist saying, “For what appears to be, from the legends of ancient civilizations to the philosophical and mathematical literature of classic times, is a body of tantalizing hints of lost knowledge that had come to terms with phenomena not yet acceptable to modern science—phenomena which, most definitely, includes those of parapsychology.”

PICTURE FREEZES on the benign features of Arthur Bellenger, SLOWLY DISSOLVES.

They are at supper in the hotel dining room, discussing what they saw that afternoon (“Actually, it’s hard to imagine any psi phenomenon which does not involve the skin,” Cathy is saying. “Psycho-kinesis is effected on objects in proximity to the hands. Psychic healing involves the so-called ‘laying on’ of hands.”) when a phone call is announced for Peter.

He returns in minutes. “Nothing important,” he says. “Easton checking up to see how it’s going.”

Casually, he asks them if they’d like to come up to his room after dinner to continue the discussion. The invitation is atypical of him but they agree except for Teddie who says he’s tired and is going to bed.

When they reach Peter’s room, he tells them that there was no call from Easton. They are going to have a visitor soon.

“Why the mystery?” asks Cathy.

“The visit, I fear, would be categorized, by our hosts, as ‘non-sanctioned’.”

Cathy looks immediately uneasy.

“There was no phone call actually,” Peter continues. “I just had a note put in my hand saying that our visitor would be at my door at eight-thirty.”

“What visitor?” asks Cathy. “Is this wise, Peter?”

“Wise or not, we can’t turn our backs on a visit from Ivanova herself,” Peter says.

“Oh,” says Cathy in a subdued voice.

“The psychic?” Robert asks.

“The
psychic,” Peter says. “Unmatched by any in the western world. Healer, clairvoyant, telepathist, telekinesis medium, hypnotist—”

“Reincarnationist,” Cathy adds. She doesn’t look pleased at all. “Peter—”

He continues over her. “She is particularly known for her ability to diagnose and cure illnesses by telephone, in one documented case at a range of eight thousand miles.”

“She is also not particularly popular with the government,” Cathy says. “Peter, if this endangers our entire trip—”

Peter is adamant. “Leave if you wish,” he says, “but I will not say no to this woman.”

At precisely eight-thirty, there are hurried footsteps in the corridor outside the door, a hasty knock.

Peter opens the door and VARVARA IVANOVA bursts in, looking more like a typical, robust Soviet housewife than a famous psychic.

She shuts the door herself, hurriedly, and leans back against it, blowing out a heavy breath. She grins. “So,” she says, in English, “another exercise in evading the secret police.”

CUT TO Cathy listening to Ivanova later, her expression making it clear that she is doubly out of sorts—apprehensive about the risk of seeing this woman at all and in disagreement with every word she speaks.

CAMERA PULLS BACK TO REVEAL that Robert and Peter are amused and charmed by the broad-set, animated Ivanova.

“Skills learned in previous lives can explain a great deal why some people show unusual talents in their early life,” she is saying. “I, myself, have been, in former lives, a Brazilian and a German. And I have spoken German perfectly since childhood, Portuguese perfectly.”

Cathy looks at her wristwatch, making the gesture very visible.

“Let me amplify,” says Ivanova, either not noticing or not revealing that she’s noticed Cathy’s gesture. “Previous lives are not individual experiences but are interconnected, stored in our present subconscious. Hence, it is well for people to be attentive to inexplicable fears and habits in themselves for they reveal much.

“For instance, claustrophobia might be the result of being locked up for years in a tiny cell hundreds of years ago. Fear of heights may have been instilled when one met death in a former life by being pushed from a high place. One of my friends had a dread of cats. I saw, in a clairvoyant flash, that, in a previous incarnation, she had been killed by a black panther.”

“Peter,” Cathy murmurs.

Ivanova smiles at her. “My presence makes you nervous,” she says.

“Well,” says Cathy, “we
are
here conditionally.”

“Child,” says Ivanova patiently. “You must realize that I am a scientist not a charlatan. The high level authorities in this country know that full well even if few of them comprehend what I do.

“But then,” she adds, casually, “when have scientific freedom and government control walked hand in hand down the garden path?”

She chuckles. “The amusing thing about it all,” she says, “is that the average Russian believes firmly in miracles, visions, premonitions, holy cures, soothsayers and prophets.” She laughs aloud. “There are more fortune tellers per capita in the Soviet Union than in any other country.

“However—” she rises. “I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.”

“Madame Ivanova, you do not make us uncomfortable in the least,” Peter says, glancing critically at Cathy.

“No offense taken,” Ivanova says, putting on her coat. “I understand completely. Have you met with the Krivorotvs yet?”

“They’re not on our list,” Peter tells her.

“A pity,” she says. “Perhaps they will be.”

“Do you ever see Kulagina?” Peter asks her.

“No, no, no one sees her anymore,” she says. “Poor woman. She is totally worn out.”

Cathy starts as the older woman pinches her teasingly on the arm. “Perhaps, if you are willing to risk the government’s displeasure,” she says, “I might put you together with Borgeyev and his time machine!”

Cathy looks blank.
Time machine?

“I hope you haven’t risked your own security by coming here,” says Peter.

She makes a scornful noise. “When at war, do as at war,” she says. “I take things as they come.”

Peter shakes her hand. “Our gratitude and admiration,” he says.

Robert shakes her hand. She grips it suddenly and will not let go, staring fixedly into his eyes.

“Oh,” she says. “Oh, my.” She whistles softly. “My, oh, my.”

“What?” he asks.

She is about to answer, then shakes her head. “No, I think not,” she replies. “I don’t believe you are ready yet.”

She grips him firmly by the shoulders.

“But you will be!” she says. “And I am jealous of you!”

Then she is gone as she came, like a whirlwind.

Peter looks at Robert.

“Well, my friend,” he says quietly. “I think I may be jealous of you too.”

Robert and Cathy get into an argument as they retire.

You have a closed mind, Robert finally tells her. He realizes that it sounds insane to tell her that considering her acceptance of so many things that standard science rejects. Nonetheless, her mind is closed beyond a certain point.

“And perhaps your background is catching up with you,” she responds.

His smile is not one of pleasure. “That’s a low blow,” he tells her.

“And untrue?” she demands.

He makes a disparaging sound. “Et tu Brute?” he says.

“Which means—?” she asks irritably.

“That you just joined ranks with Westheimer,” he answers. “If you can’t refute the argument, defame the arguer.”

In the morning, an unpleasant surprise. They are picked up by the limousine but no Ludmilla. Their new guide is a thin, ascetic looking young man named SARASKY who, almost in the same breath, informs them that Ludmilla has been transferred to other duties for “proscribed fraternizing” and that, in the future, it would be “preferred” if they confined their interviews to those “sanctioned” by the authorities.

“What does he mean by that?” says Teddie. “Did you see somebody last night?”

“Yes, Ivanova,” Cathy says grimly. “I knew it was a bad idea.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” Teddie asks.

Peter looks at him icily. “Apparently, you were occupied,” he says.

Cathy looks quickly at Teddie. “Is that what this gentleman meant by ‘proscribed fraternizing’?” she asks.

The car is deathly still en route to their morning appointment. Robert and Cathy are still in a state of tension with each other and this new double-edged incident has disturbed all of them. Teddie is, predictably, unrepentant.

When they arrive at the government building, Saransky moves ahead of them, Teddie after him, speaking angrily in Russian. Peter starts to follow, then gives up. “Oh, to hell with it,” he murmurs. “Let the man hang himself.”

“Catch 22,” says Robert. “We probably wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Teddie and, because of Teddie, we may not be allowed to stay.”

“The man’s infuriating,” Cathy says through clenched teeth. “That naïve young girl.”

Several minutes later, the group is sitting with DR. VLADIMIR RAIKOV of the Psycho-Neurological Clinic. Waiting on his desk are the traditional cookies, pastry and coffee. None of them partake.

“Before we begin,” says Railkov, “I want to make it clear that we are not regressing people to so-called former lives. Your press in the West has been giving me credit for being some sort of reincarnation expert. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

His comment so immediately following their “non-sanctioned” meeting with Ivanova makes it obvious that, in some way, they are being “guided” back into areas of investigation preferred by the Soviets.

“Now,” says Raikov as though the reincarnation subject has been properly dispensed with and they are ready to return to more sensible investigation.

There are several large packages on the table which he unwraps. The contents are a group of oil and water color paintings and pencil and ink sketches, all portraits of young women. All are quite well done.