Under Cover of Darkness (42 page)

"I understand."

"I don't think you do. Not fully. You know that videotape you bought at Blechman's orientation meeting? I sent it out for analysis by an audio expert. Specifically, a psychological stress evaluator."

"I was under the impression the bureau didn't use PSEs."

"I had a few of them done when I was with Seattle P
. D
., and I thought it might be right in this circumstance. You're familiar with the test, then?"

"Yeah. It measures variations and tremors in voice patterns that are inaudible to the human ear."

"Right. In fact, the machine actually charts the variations and creates a kind of voice print. Which is what I did. with your tape. We had a voice print created for Blechman, and also for Felicia and Tom, the two lieutenants who spoke at the meeting."

"What did you find?"

"Blechman is off by himself, which is normal. He's the leader. It's Tom and Felicia who are interesting. They hav
e a
lmost an identical voice print. The expert could barely tell them apart."

"What does the expert make of that?"

"Two possibilities," said Isaac. "One, these characters are skilled actors who are delivering a very well-rehearsed pitch in a very controlled and identical manner."

"Or . . . ?"

"Or they are programmed exactly alike. I mean exactly. Someone has done a real mind-control number on them." "Someone named Blechman."

"I'm not trying to scare you, Andie. I say this only because . . . well, you know why."

"Do I?"

"I think you do."

She smiled, but it was strained. Boy, is this not the time. "I'll watch my back. Don't worry."

"Well, since you don't have eyes in the back of your head, I'm going to set up spot surveillance around the farm. It won't be twenty-four hours, but it's still too expensive to run this forever. I want you to check with me no later than Wednesday. Just somehow get yourself to a phone. If I don't hear from you, I'm pulling the plug."

Isaac sensed her hesitation, as if she were suddenly distracted, perhaps being watched.

"It won't be easy," she said finally. "But I promise I'll stay in touch."

It was one of those mornings that Gus felt like going straight back to bed and staying there. Not the typical lazy Sunday morning with a cup of coffee and the Post-Intelligencer. More like Sunday, the two-week anniversary of Beth's disappearance.

Martha Goldstein's timing was a piece of work. A letter hand-delivered to his house on the very day she knew he would be at an emotional low. "Dear Gus," it read. "I know you're busy with other things, but could you please mak
e t
ime to come into the office this week to assist in the orderly transfer of your files?"

What a manipulator. The message was handwritten on her personal stationery rather than typed on the firm's letterhead, as if that would disguise the fact that it was purely a "cover your ass" letter designed to put Gus on legal notice that if anything slipped through the cracks while he was out searching for his wife, his professional neck was on the line, not hers. Nice touch, Martha. You forgot to draw in the smiley face under your signature.

In the big picture, he knew that the "orderly transfer of files" was one more step toward his permanent removal as managing partner and eventual break with Preston & Coolidge. The same thing had happened five years ago when he had taken the helm and sent his successor packing. It would be best if he just resigned, less embarrassment for the old manager and fewer hassles for the new. The thought of dragging things out sickened him, knowing he'd have to endure the slow parade of partners who would stop by his office, tell him he'd gotten screwed, tell him they admired his fight, and then ask for dibs on his office. The distastefulness of it all had Gus yearning for a clean break. This was his chance to realize one of his oldest dreams, something he would never have found the nerve to try unless forced to do it. Starting his own law firm. Now, that was a professional dream worth his sweat.

Just as soon as he found Beth.

The phone rang. It was his investigator, Dex. "I found Shirley's mother."

Gus was suddenly over the law firm. "Dead or alive?"

"Most definitely alive, about an hour's drive from here. More the sticks than the suburbs. If you want, I can pay her a visit today, see if she'll talk."

"No," said Gus. "I'll do it myself."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he said as he hopped out of bed. "I'm sure."

Chapter
Fifty-Three.

The farm was on twelve acres that looked like a hundred. It was surrounded by open prairie, and had it not been for the barbed-wire fencing, its boundaries would have been indiscernible. A long and dusty driveway led to a barn large enough to hold the old school bus, a tractor, two cars, and nine horses. Adjacent to it was a white two-story frame house. It was old but freshly painted and well maintained, its original Victorian-style details still intact. On the other side of the barn were a dozen small, boxy-looking units with aluminum siding. They reminded Andie of a minimum-security prison.

The bus pulled straight into the barn. The group filed off and walked toward the smaller living quarters. None went to the main farmhouse.

"Come on," said Felicia. "Let me show you around."

Andie followed her on a brief walking tour. To the east was a five-acre orchard, apples and apricots. The trees had been pruned in hat-rack fashion, but spring buds were emerging. A vegetable garden covered another two acres. Felicia mentioned a variety of spring vegetables, but it was too early to tell what had been planted where. The animals were around back. A chicken coop was all the way against the back fence, its odor well away from the main house. A half dozen horses and cows were munching grass along th
e f
ence line. They kept a healthy distance from the wire. Andie noted the electrodes. It was electrified.

They continued down past the chickens to apond and a stand of trees. Behind the trees Andie noticed a small rectangular building.

"What's that?" she asked.

"We can't go there:' said Felicia.

"Why not?"

"We're not ready. It's a special place for meetings and ceremonies. Only the members who have reached the highest level can go there."

"Even you can't go there?" asked Andie.

"You think I'm the highest level?" she asked, amused. "Far from it, girl. I have a long way to go."

"How many levels are there?"

"You pass through as many levels as are necessary to purge yourself of the human irritations, frustrations, and anxieties that must be overcome to reach beyond the human realm."

"So it's different for each person?"

"Yes, because we all come here with different baggage. Remember, the ultimate goal is to physically change your level of vibration so that you can receive the flow of energy directly from the source. Everyone has different circumstances that keep them vibrating at a human level. Some people are married. Some have children. Some just live in the past, thinking about what they used to be like when they were eighteen or twenty or thirty-five. Your attachment to other people or even to your own past will keep you from evolving."

"You mean, I have to. forget who I was?"

"Absolutely."

Andie took a breath. "That's quite a commitment." "Yes. And each level you attain brings additional commitments."

"What kind of commitments?"

"You'll see."

"How long does it take?"

"No set time frame. When you're ready to move up, he will know. And he will tell you."

."He?"

"Steven Blechman, of course."

"Oh, of course."

"Come on, Kira. Let me show you to your room."

Felicia led her back to the plain barracks on the far side of the barn. Each of the twelve units looked exactly alike. Felicia took her to the last unit, farthest from the barn. The door had no lock, but it was stuffy inside, as if it hadn't been lived in for some time. Four bunks lined the wall. Clothes and other essentials were laid out on the bed, just as they had been at the cabin on the retreat. There was a bathroom, though it wasn't much bigger than the closet beside it. The thought of sharing this space with three other women didn't thrill Andie.

"It will be just the two of us for a week or so," said Felicia.

"We're living together?"

"Everyone gets a partner when they first arrive. It's my job to help
. Y
ou through."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." She gestured toward the bathroom. "Maybe you'd like to clean up a little?"

"I'd love a shower."

"There's a towel in the bathroom. Feel free."

The shower stall was small, but Andie didn't care. A hot shower was the closest thing to normal she'd experienced in three days. She ran it until the hot water was gone, which wasn't long. Less than two minutes. It was on a timer to keep her from overindulging.

Andie stepped out and toweled off. She stood and faced what should have been the mirror, that space right above the sink. But there was none.

She stepped out, wrapped in a towel. Felicia was seated on the bed. Laid out atop the towel resting on the bed were a brush, a comb, and scissors.

"Did you know there's no mirror in here?" said Andie. "We don't have any."

"No mirrors?"

"Come, sit here."

Andie seated herself on the bed. Felicia said, "How you see yourself is not important." She started combing Andie's hair in a way Andie had never combed it, parting it on the wrong side. "What matters is how he sees you. We groom each other in the way that pleases him."

Andie froze as her new partner reached for the scissors. She wanted to protest, but she quelled her instincts. She had to submit. Kira would submit.

"Are you saying every woman who comes here has changed her appearance?"

"Every woman and every man."

The thought chilled her. She had looked carefully, but perhaps not carefully enough. It was entirely possible that she had already seen Beth Wheatley and not recognized her. Then again, maybe she was one of those less accessible members at the higher level.

With a snip of the scissors, long strands of wet hair began falling to the floor.

The pea-gravel driveway was empty at the home, of Meredith Borge, and no one answered when Gus knocked on the door. He had decided against an advance call for fear that she might not want to see him. He thought it best to catch her cold.

Meredith lived in a rural area at the end of a gravel road, just one of two houses on the entire route. The driveway was rather ill-defined, just two dirt ruts in the ground that cut across the lawn and ended at the front porch. Gus parked near the culvert at the turn-around at the end of th
e r
oad and waited. Through a thin stand of pine trees he could see the house clearly. An hour passed, and not a single car came or went. The rain started and stopped a dozen times before a twenty-year-old pickup truck finally pulled into the driveway. A woman stepped down and walked up the pathway. She appeared to be in her forties, slim and brunette, right in line with Dex's description. Gus jumped out of his car.

"Mrs. Borge?"

She stopped and turned but did not respond. Her suspicious gaze stopped Gus in his tracks. "Excuse me for bothering you," he said. "But I'd like to talk to you about your daughter."

"I don't have a daughter."

"I know. I'm sorry about her death."

"You are? Why?"

"My name's Gus Wheatley. My wife disappeared two weeks ago today. Your daughter and I were involved in some discussions about her possible whereabouts before she died."

Her stare was ice-cold. "I have nothing to say to you." "Mrs. Borge, please."

Gus followed her halfway up the front steps, but her glare only intensified. "Get off my property before I call the police."

"It's important that we talk. Please, just a minute of your time."

She unlocked the door. For an instant it seemed she was about to say something, more nervous than hostile. "Please," said Gus.

"Do us both a favor. Go away." She stepped inside and slammed the door, leaving Gus alone on the front porch.

Andie hadn't eaten since early Saturday afternoon, but ther
e w
as no breakfast or lunch on the Sunday menu. On the retreat they had kept her up late and woken her early, allowin
g h
er little more than seven hours of total sleep since Thursday. Rest, however, was not on Sunday's schedule either.

Felicia was her constant companion. Neither one of them left the unit. They spent hours together sitting on the floor, eyes closed and legs crossed. Felicia taught her several breathing exercises to help her relax and meditate. Every half hour or so she would ask Andie to join her in repeating three times aloud, "I am going to rise above and overcome my human desires and activities and transform my being into something more than physical." They had no other conversation. The goal was to channel Andie's thoughts and energy. Her thoughts were definitely focused, though all Andie could think was, What in the hell have I gotten myself into?