Knowing (40 page)

“Hey,” Harlan offered, a bit sheepishly, “about what happened at the table regardin’ how you and Hank got together and—”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” she replied succinctly.

“I’m just sayin’—”

“Really, Harlan, we do not have to talk about this. Put it to bed.”

He leaned closer. “What happens at the CSA, stays at the CSA.”

“That’s highly doubtful.” She told him about her short but informative visit with Sage and their plans for the following day. Harlan wanted to come along but Jane instructed him to stay at the CSA and “work his magic” to deflect her absence. “And whatever you do,” she cautioned him, “do
not
get into any conversations with Jude. That son-of-a-bitch sold your heart out.” She explained everything she knew about the little weasel. When she was done, she thought Harlan was going to find him and pummel him into organic compost. “We have to be smart, Harlan,” she warned. “You can’t give that s.o.b. more ammo to hurt us.”

“I don’t get it, Jane. Why would Gabe purposely lead us here if it was a set-up with Jude?”

She’d already contemplated that question. “Maybe there was no way around it. Maybe in order for us to find out what the next postcard reveals, we have no choice but to put up with the lowlife.” The comment seemed to appease Harlan but Jane still questioned the obvious complications. It almost seemed to Jane as if the entire process had to take place in order for the intended ending Gabe set forth. It was that kind of theorizing that kept her mind fitful and apprehensive. She needed to occupy her mind with something besides imminent danger. Digging around in the van, she came across a piece of paper at the bottom of the cooler Hank delivered to her. Unfolding it, she recognized the writing in Patois, a somewhat sloppy French dialect popular in the Caribbean islands.

It read: “
Mwê ni èspwa pou la yonn kilès ki sa fè mwên tjè feb antyè ankò
.”. Jane already knew the translation that was written beneath it: “
I hope for the one who can make my tender heart whole again
.” She’d found the odd phrase in a diary during her last case and asked Hank to figure out the translation. She stared at the small piece of paper, realizing that she wrote the words in Patois at the top and Hank wrote the English translation. It was akin to a love letter, Jane reasoned, with the phrase echoed back to her. Nobody could ever accuse Jane Perry of writing a love letter but there it was in her hands. He put it at the bottom of the bag on purpose so she’d find it after she pulled out the chicken salad. But by that time, vitriol had robbed her of a peaceful parting.

“I got a question for you, Jane,” Harlan asked, setting up his bedding for the night. “You think Marion loves her husband the way she loved Gabe?”

Jane considered it. “No. I don’t. But I think Gabe was the kind of guy who was only meant to live a short time. People like Gabe who have that kind of intrinsic power don’t last long. They burn up in their own orbit. This world can’t contain people like Gabe because they can’t be shoved into a neat little box that satisfies the status quo.” She looked out the window. “You know what I bet? I bet Marion has something of Gabe’s that she deeply cherishes.”

“Like what?” he asked, popping the cap off another bottle of pine needle beer.

Jane wasn’t sure where this was all coming from. “I don’t know. I just have this feeling, you know? In my gut?”

“Maybe it’s another one of them postcards?”

“No. It’s not that,” Jane stated, still staring off into the night sky. “It’s much greater than that. It’s her connection to Gabe.”

While Harlan finished making his bed and enjoying the beer, Jane found her cell phone and checked the voicemail. He didn’t speak at first and the dead air worried her. But after a few seconds, she heard Hank’s voice.

“Hey…look, I don’t know where in the hell you are right now. I hope to God you’re safe.” He let out a sigh. “Okay, here’s the deal. I took the bait and I checked out the videos of the red-haired guy you mentioned. You’re right, Jane. You hear me? You’re
right
. The guy at the Quik-Mart and the guy standing behind Crandall are one and the same. And based on the background scenery I blew up in the screen capture, the Quik Mart in the shot is not the same one where you got your car ripped.” He let out another frustrated sigh. “I don’t know what to make of it, but I think you stumbled on something pretty damn deep. Please, Jane…please be careful. Don’t just…don’t disappear on me.”

The call ended abruptly. Jane hit the replay button and listened to his message several more times before turning off the phone and drifting off to sleep. She felt herself falling into a deep, resonating slumber. Then, as if the poles shifted, she quickly found herself standing in a long, sterile hospital ward. On either side, were glass-walled rooms with tightly drawn gray curtains. There were no doctors or nurses but Jane could feel the fears and hopes of the patients on the other sides of the glass walls. It took her a few seconds, but she realized there was no sound around her. Even her footsteps on the shiny gray floor fell like cotton balls on a pillow. The farther she walked, the longer the aisle became until it was a never-ending stroll into nowhere. Then, in the distance, she heard the distinctive sound of wheels on a cart rolling across a vinyl floor. The whir of the spinning wheels increased as Jane spun in circles, attempting to source the location. Finally, the wheels came to a halt. Jane turned and saw an empty stainless steel gurney in front of her. A beautiful long, shiny ponytail of red hair sat on the left. On the right, was a single, empty syringe. She picked up the syringe and questioned whether it belonged to the others she’d seen carpeting the floor of the old man’s office. The second that image came to mind, she dropped the syringe, realizing this wasn’t a dream. Layers of clear, critical thinking aren’t usually present when one is in a dream state but at that moment, Jane was considering end runs and assorted game plans she usually reserved for her daytime reality.

Suddenly, she heard a team of footsteps moving closer behind her. She turned and looked into the gray haze that filtered closer to her body. The steps became more pronounced as fear gripped her hard. The haze grew denser until it swallowed her body and choked her. Struggling to breathe, Jane gasped once and then again. Risking it all, she took in a deep breath and opened her eyes. The starry sky out the front window of the van lay directly in her sight. She sat up with a start, checking to make sure Harlan was still there. He was sound asleep, softly snoring on his side. It took her another two hours to fall back to sleep.

The next day started early. Awakened by the loud sound of an iron dinner bell triangle at six thirty, Jane and Harlan sleepily made their way to the camping showers before the happy band of other guests were out of their tents and vehicles. With no hot water, Jane realized where Gabriel might have gotten his idea to end his shower with a blast of icy water. It was certainly bracing and an easy way to speed up the crew so they didn’t linger under the showerhead.

After a breakfast of oatmeal, poached eggs and one of the best bowls of raspberries Jane ever tasted, the guests broke up into small groups and busied themselves with the free educational opportunities. Harlan eagerly chose a class on “Building Better Soil With Waste” because as he said to the crowd, “I just love the smell of cowpies in the mornin’.” Jane grabbed her third cup of coffee in a paper cup and ducked outside. She hadn’t seen Sage that morning yet and began to worry that something was wrong. Strolling into the front yard, she scanned the second floor of the main house, searching for any sign of movement.

“Whatcha lookin’ for?” Jude said.

Jane spun around, shocked that he crept up on her so quietly. “Nothing,” she replied with an abrupt sting. “I’m just looking.”

He gazed at her a little too long before talking, taking snips instead of drags on his ash-laden cigarette. “Why aren’t you in one of the classes?”

“I thought maybe you were teaching something.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. What’s your specialty around this joint?”

He regarded Jane with his squinty eyes. “Well, I figured your brother would have let you in on that talent.”

Jane wanted to grab his wiry neck by his tattered collar, pound his head into the welcome sign and stab him in the neck with a pitchfork. But she had to play this one closer to the vest. “He did, actually.” She moved a few inches toward Jude. “And he gave me a message for you. He told me to tell you to ‘fuck off.’” She turned, heading down the driveway. “And you know my brother. He said it in twelve
different
languages!”

Jane expected the cancerous tumor to follow her but, thankfully, he stayed put. By the time she got to the road and turned around, Jude was walking back into the house. Noticing a Wi-Fi antenna on a nearby house, she wondered if there was a possibility of stealing some Web time on her computer. She started toward the van when she heard the throaty engine of a large car coming up the road behind her. Jane turned and saw an old black Lincoln Continental with blacked out windows driving toward her. It was the same sound of the motor from the black car that appeared to be hovering close by when they arrived the day before. She turned in the direction of the van in the field and quickened her step. With each hastened punch of her cowboy boot in the dirt, she could hear the rapid acceleration of the Lincoln. She only had another thirty feet to go when the car swept up on her left side and veered in front of her. Jane stopped, reaching in her waistband for her weapon before realizing it was still locked in the van’s glove compartment.

The darkened passenger window slowly rolled down as the male driver, dressed in all black, leaned toward Jane’s direction. “Get in.”

Jane jogged to the left but the driver gunned the Lincoln in reverse, blocking her escape. She hefted her body across the wide trunk, skimming as fast as she could against the hot metal, before falling somewhat short of her dismount. Stumbling, she raced toward the mouth of the field where the fencing opened up but the Lincoln easily turned and lurched forward, blocking the entrance to the field. Jane turned, looking down the road and tried to figure out where to run when the driver rolled down his window.

“What in the hell are you doing?” he asked her in a firm but somewhat off-hand tone.

He was a tall man, Jane deduced, with olive pockmarked skin, broad shoulders and a shock of black hair. His dark eyes were focused and showed hints of past cruelty. His vibe was “all business” and cutting to the chase.

“What in the hell are
you
doing?” she retorted.

“You getting in?” he gruffly asked.

“Why should I?”

“Because I’m the medicine man.”

Jane felt a shock travel up her spine. “Where are you taking me?”

“Jesus, you have a lot of questions. Come on. Get in. There’s not a lot of time left.”

Jane glanced around the area, checking to see if anyone was watching. Finally, she walked around the long car and got inside. The upholstery was crimson red leather and the interior of the automobile looked as if it had been well taken care of over the many years. He turned around and drove back up the road and onto Highway 17.

“You got a name?” Jane asked.

“Call me Saul.”

She looked at him with his Mediterranean appearance. “You don’t look like a ‘Saul.’”

He smiled and remained silent.

“You know who I am?” Jane asked.

“I know you’re the one I need to talk to.”

“You want my name?”

“I couldn’t care less about your name. All I need from you is your help.” He gunned the Lincoln up to ninety miles an hour.

Jane held onto the door handle as it moved like an ebony bullet across the flat highway.

“Why are you called The Medicine Man? You make potions?”

He smirked. “No potions. The real medicine…the
true
medicine, is in the mind.”

About five miles later, he slowed and turned right onto an unmarked, one lane road. The Lincoln’s tires spit gravel and dust as Saul zoomed down the path. In the distance, miles of desolation lay wide open. Jane flashed on a somber image of her being led across this uninhabited territory and shot once in the back of the head.

“I have no interest in killing you,” Saul declared. “That’s the last thing I’d do.”

Jane had to check herself. “I never said that—”

“You thought it,” he said off-handedly, “don’t bother denying it.” He bore to the right again and drove up to a tall steel gate. “And I’m telling you that you’ve got nothing to worry about from me.” He stopped the car. “It’s the others you need to be concerned about.” Saul reached under his driver’s seat and removed a small remote. Clicking the red button toward the gate, it lumbered open, sending whining echoes across the open space.

Jane fully expected to see a massive house or structure on the other side. But all that lay there was an enormous spate of raw land surrounded by a twenty foot electrified fence, with concertina wire curling over the top. Saul drove into the property and parked, turning off the engine. The steel gate closed behind them.

Saul turned to Jane. “Ever seen a Kansas dugout?”

“I don’t think so,” Jane replied cautiously.

He smiled. “This is nothing like that.” He punched a green button on the remote and the car began to sink into the ground.

“Jesus!” Jane yelled. “What’s going on—?”

“Relax,” Saul said with a grin. “Enjoy the ride.”

Jane held on as she watched the blue sky above her pull farther away. Inch by inch, the Lincoln sunk deeper into the ground. It was quickly clear to Jane that they were positioned upon some sort of hydraulic elevator that reached deep underground. Gradually, they were swallowed and surrounded by concrete walls on all sides. When they reached about one hundred feet below the surface, the elevator came to a slow stop. Saul pushed a yellow button on the remote and an enormous steel door that stretched three times the width of the Lincoln, opened up like a garage door. On the other side, it looked like the scene from “The Wizard of Oz” when Dorothy emerges into Oz and everything turns to brilliant color. Saul drove forward down a short paved road lined with brilliant lights and what sounded to Jane like a babbling brook.

“What the hell is this?” she asked, her mouth agape.

“I call it home.” Saul rolled the Lincoln to a stop and parked. “Come on. Follow me.” He led Jane to a large wall that appeared to be dirt. He located a brown metal plate that blended into the façade. Opening it, he punched in a series of numbers and stood back. What appeared to be dirt was actually a clandestine door that slid open to the right. Jane followed him through.

She stopped as he turned to close the sliding door and stared at the scene in front of her. Above her head were a million pinpoints of light that illuminated into a blue Colorado skyline. It was so realistic, she had to make sure that it wasn’t actually the sky seeping in from aboveground. In front of her, stood a modest house, complete with a healthy looking lawn, exterior lighting and a small waterfall that cascaded into a koi pond.

“I seriously do not get this, Saul.” She was trying to take it all in while simultaneously wondering if she was dreaming.

“You’re
not
dreaming,” Saul said, catching her thought.

Jane looked at him, shocked. “Those are the same three words Gabe wrote on a postcard.”

Saul smiled with genuine sincerity. “He and I thought a lot alike. Come on in. And wipe your feet, would you? It’s a bitch to keep this place clean.”

Jane followed Saul into the living room of the one-story house. It was appointed with beautiful mahogany antiques, all polished to perfection. The temperature felt perfect—not too hot or too cold. In the center of the room, attached to the twelve-foot ceiling, were dozens of various sized crystals, illuminated by a large arch of light that hung above them. As they softly rotated against a gentle breeze that issued forth from tiny holes in the ceiling, the spectrum of refracted color bounced across the white walls and filled the entire space with an intense energy.

He offered Jane a seat in a rich leather chair as he sat across from her on a small leather couch with enormous mahogany armrests. A modest coffee table separated them. To his left was a small side table that held a trio of books with the bindings facing out. Watching him stretch out his long legs and push up his black trousers, Jane figured Saul was about sixty, even though there wasn’t a bit of gray in his black locks.

Jane let out a low breath. “Quite a place you got here. Ever miss having neighbors?”

“No time for chit-chat. We don’t have a lot of time left—”

“You said that already,” Jane replied, still trying to rectify the last twenty minutes of her life.

He leaned back in the sofa, draping his left hand over the armrest. “Can you imagine having everything you’ve ever feared or been conditioned to fear being conquered?”

Jane shook her head. “No. I can’t.”

“Well, that’s what I did. And I taught Gabe how to do it. When the student is ready, the teacher will come.”

“I don’t understand.”

Saul edged forward and turned in his seat so that she could see the back of his neck. “You see that?” he asked, pointing to a tiny dot on the right side of his neck. “I dug it out long before Gabe dug his out.”

Jane felt her mouth go dry. “Oh, shit. You’re one of them?”

“No. I
used
to be one of them.” He sat back again. “I got out, I stayed out and I’m still alive,” he declared with a sense of pride.

“Living underground…”

“I like it. I’ve always been fond of the earth and now I’m part of it.”

“I don’t mean to get in your business, Saul, but this place must have set you back a few bucks.”

“I was in their game for a long time. Did a lot of big jobs. It built my bank account but it broke me. I’ve spent every second since then making amends.”

“Was one of those amends helping Gabe when he got out?”

Saul nodded. “He found me.”

“How?”

“On another wave of reality.”

“Right,” Jane said with a nod. She was beginning to accept that while some actions cannot be rationally explained, it didn’t change the fact that the results of the unseen feat still materialized.

“I finally met him in the flesh just over three years ago. He stayed down here with me for a while after getting wind that the company was closing in. He said he’d uncovered information during his last hit and he wasn’t sure how to handle it.”

“Hang on. Why wouldn’t he know how to handle it? I thought Gabe was an all-seeing prophet!”

“Gabriel was a human being and he’d be the first person to tell you that! He lived in this world just like the rest of us. He knew what childhood innocence felt like. He understood anger and aggression. He knew what it felt like to plot a man’s death and follow it through. He felt lust but he also experienced great love for a woman. He regaled in triumph and carried the burden of massive defeat. Regret, deep depression, questioning life’s purpose, walking around in an empty shell…he lived all of it. And when it was the right time…when he knew he couldn’t continue the life he’d led any longer, he committed his soul to the unknown…to the death of everything he thought he knew. And he walked into it with his eyes and heart wide open. When he emerged after three years, he knew what he had to do. He also knew the price he would pay. But by that point, he’d already died a thousand deaths. As long as his death was pure and final, he had no quarrels.”

“So, Romulus really didn’t know who they were getting when they recruited him.”

“They knew who he was and what he could do. Gabriel was a god to Romulus. And Romulus loves their gods. He was their rising sun. They put him through the most intense training and testing and he never broke. They shot him full of LSD, cocaine and heroin, fed him Psilocybin mushrooms and he was still able to function and not give away company secrets. That’s unheard of! He was extremely comfortable worming through heightened realities of consciousness. He was measured as a “P7”—that’s known as a Psychic Conduit. And he could do that without artificially altering his consciousness. He could easily feel other people’s emotions and hear their thoughts just like you and I listen to the radio. He saw auras around people so he always knew what type of person he was up against. But after he left Romulus, he took all of those talents to a different level.” He eyed Jane carefully. “He went through his own death. He experienced it as if it was frighteningly real. He felt every stab of pain and when his life force was snuffed out, he went through the light and he was told his destiny. When he came back into his physical body, he was committed to following what he had been told to the letter.”

“Told by whom?”

“By the pool of infinite wisdom and compassion. Call it God, the Universe, the Source, whatever works for you. The point is, everything he saw regarding his death came to pass. I was with him the whole way. He told me what he saw but he also left some things out because he still needed to confirm a few key points first in the physical reality. He was mired in that process right up to the end. The last week of his life, he traveled all over this state, building more connections and putting as much as he could in place before they found him. He knew he was running out of time. It was coming up on the 22nd of September. The Autumnal Equinox. The beginning of the season that marks the souls’ harvest. Gabriel had taken out enough people on that date so he knew what it meant. It’s a powerful time to die in their world.” He looked off to the side. “They always get off on that kind of symbology. With them, it’s all about symbols, numbers, dates and places of power on this earth. With them, a profane act done at a sacred location magnifies the destruction, lifting it into another stratosphere.” He became strangely sad. “If people only knew the things we did and what is still being done…Jesus, I’m telling you, I think the shock alone would destroy people’s belief that good ever existed.” He looked up at her, his eyes clear and focused. “But good
does
exist. They want to convince you otherwise. But I’m telling you, there is
still
light in this world. And as someone who has seen and been part of so much darkness, that should tell you a lot.”

Jane’s head whirred with too many questions. “I don’t get why I got pulled into this chaos. He was talking to you on a regular basis about what he found. Why didn’t he choose you?”

“Think about that for a second. I got out of the company years ago. You think I might be a pretty big fish to reel in? Besides, I don’t have the freedom of movement you have.”

“If you can talk to people at a distance, mind-to-mind, you have a lot more freedom of movement than most people!”

“You are correct. But the footwork still has to be done. And you and Harlan were the foot soldiers that Gabriel chose.”

Jane was taken back. “How do you know about Harlan?”

“Are you serious?” Saul asked.

“Point taken.”

“Gabriel chose you. He also chose Harlan.” He looked at her sternly. “But
they
did not choose Harlan.”

Jane shifted in her seat. “Right. Somebody else was scheduled to get Gabe’s heart but the doctor on call said they weren’t as seriously ill as Harlan.”

“The operative word in your sentence is ‘scheduled.’”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”

“Gabriel’s heart was scheduled for transplant on September 22nd, the same day he would be killed.”

Jane stared at Saul in total disbelief. “No. I don’t buy it.”

He sat back and observed Jane. “Do me a favor. Go over to that bureau and open the top drawer.”

Jane turned to her right where an ornate bureau stood. She crossed to it and opened the drawer. “Holy shit.”

“Holy shit, indeed. Go on. Bring it over here.”

Jane was still unable to fathom how this was possible. Staring back at her was the infamous white binder and those bold red letters, IEB.