Chapter 6

They had the lunch Paul's mother prepared for them - ham sandwiches on rye with Swiss cheese, hot mustard, pickles and iced tea. Uncle Andy hurried them through the meal. "I want to stop and get some clothes that fit, but we need to get there before five."

When they were leaving, his mother gave Paul fifty dollars in cash. "Now this is for you, Paul. You be careful, don't let your uncle involve you in anything crooked."

He assured her he'd be careful, and then he and Uncle Andy were on their way again. As they drove to the nearest mall, Uncle Andy pulled a pamphlet from his jacket pocket. "This is it, the secret of dimensional movement."

Paul took it, feeling how dry, how stiff with age the paper was. Taking his eyes from the road for a second, he glanced at the cover.

NAVIGATING THE ASTRAL PLANE
Ambrose Ceribe
Theosophist Society
Bombay 1927

Though yellowed with age, the pamphlet was in good condition considering how old it was. Someone had taken care of it, or put it away and forgot about it.

Uncle Andy looked at Paul. "I was in Chicago, flogging parts for the Jimenez brothers when I found this in a used bookstore.

"They, or Ambrose Ceribe, didn't know what they were doing," he chuckled. "They didn't know it, but they were traveling between dimensions, or moving objects between dimensions. The psychic exercises, really mental exercises, they describe strengthen your ability as a Mover. Do the exercises, use the method in the pamphlet for moving between astral planes - really dimensional movement - and you'll have a lot more control."

By now, they were at the mall. Paul looked through the pamphlet while Uncle Andy quickly picked out a pair of trousers and a shirt, grumbling, "I don't usually shop at places like Sears." He changed in the store. They were finished and on the road again within half an hour.

When they left town and were on the highway, Paul turned to his uncle before looking back at the road, asking, "What's in the safety deposit box?"

For a moment, Uncle Andy fidgeted in his seat. "Well ... uh, remember I told you about the Jimenez brothers running a chop shop?" Paul nodded without taking his eyes off the road. "That's not all, they're into prostitution, drugs, and ... and other things."

"You have proof of that in the deposit box?" Paul asked. "Are you gonna give it to the FBI?"

"Uh ... no, not the FBI, someone else who'll take care of it."

"Who?"

The back of Uncle Andy's head was to Paul as he stared out the side window. "Uh, besides what I already told you, the Jimenez brothers hit a mob operation and killed the brother of Joe Cancello, one of the bosses, a big boss. I'll give it to him. He'll take care of them."

Uncle Andy was still staring out the side window as Paul turned to him. "Are you telling me you're involved with the Mafia? Shit! Mom was right about you. You can count me out, I don't want anything to do with this. I'll drop you off in Vegas, then turn around. I'll be home tonight."

Uncle Andy looked at him. "That's all I want, Paul."

Both were quiet, but after a while, Uncle Andy, his voice low, said. "Listen, if the FBI got the Jimenez brothers, maybe they'd be convicted, maybe they wouldn't. And if they were, they could still get to me from prison. And I'd be in witness protection stuck in a middle-class suburb. If the mob takes them out, they'll be dead, gone, all three of them, and I won't have to worry any more. I won't be stuck in witness protection, and I can use my Mover ability to make a better life for myself."

Paul was quiet, thinking, when Uncle Andy suddenly asked, "Were you able to get from the pamphlet the main idea, that you have to concentrate on what you want to move between dimensions, then put it out of your mind and leave it to your subconscious?"

"I understand it, though I don't know if it's possible," Paul said, remembering a story he heard about a witch doctor telling his patient the medicine would only work if the patient didn't think about monkeys. "How do you think about something without thinking about it?"

"That's what the mental exercises are for. Remember I told you I thought we needed a gun?" Paul nodded. "We still need one. The Jimenez brothers are rough, hard men, they'll do anything to get what they want. Now I know you haven't practiced any of those mental exercises yet, but I want you to think about a weapon, then put it out of your conscious mind. Maybe both of us together can move one here, like seems to have happened with your girlfriends."

"I'll try, but I don't know much about guns," Paul told him, wondering how he could will something to move here from another dimension without thinking about it. Then it was quiet for a while as Uncle Andy dozed off again.

He woke up when Paul pulled into a convenience store to gas up. "How much longer?" Uncle Andy asked.

"About an hour," Paul said, glancing at his watch. "We should be there by four. That'll give you plenty of time. I'll take you to the bank and drop you where you want. Then I'm outta here and on my way back home. I've gotta teach tomorrow."

They went inside to pay for the gas and pick up soft drinks. When they were getting into the car again, "What's that?" Uncle Andy asked, looking at the floor in back, then opening the back door and picking up the object, half-hidden under the front seat. "Looks like a garage door opener," showing it to Paul.

"It's a phaser," Paul laughed, taking it from his uncle. Examining the object, "It's metal, not plastic, heavy, wonder if it'll work."

"What's a phaser?"

"A weapon, like a taser. It's from Star Trek, the TV show. Come on, let's see if it works," Paul said, walking around to the back of the store where there was nothing but desert scrub, weeds and rocks. Paul adjusted the wheel on top of the phaser, aimed, and with a whirring sound from the phaser, vaporized a clump of weeds.

Uncle Andy looked from the spot where the vaporized weeds had been to Paul. "You said it was like a taser."

"It can do a lot of things, it's science fiction," Paul laughed. "I guess I moved it here. I was watching an old Star Trek show on TV the other day. I must have unconsciously been thinking about that when you asked me to try to move a weapon."

"That's not what I need. I'd rather have a gun that I can use, but I guess it's what we're stuck with," Uncle Andy said looking at the strange object in Paul's hand. "I'll let you handle it, you seem to know what to do with it."

It was a little after four when they pulled into the parking lot of the Bank of Nevada branch. Paul took a seat in the lobby, looking through the pamphlet, while his uncle entered the vault.

When he came out, Uncle Andy was carrying a leatherette file folder zipped closed. "Now we've got some cash," he chuckled. "I had two hundred in twenties in the box." Outside, heading for the car, "Let's go, you can drop me at the Palmyra, it's just off the strip, Cancello own's it."

Suddenly, a tow truck, with J - J - J Towing written on the side, barreled into the lot, and with its tires screeching came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the parking area.

"It's one of the Jimenez brothers," Uncle Andy hissed, running toward Paul's car as a large Mexican exited the truck.

He was big, really big. He had a gut, but he looked hard, tough. The big Mexican paused, looking around for a second. When he saw Uncle Andy running, he went after him, not running, but walking quickly, purposefully. Paul watched as his uncle moved through the parking area, then around to the other side of their car, Jimenez circling after him.

Paul followed, walking at a normal pace, not wishing to draw attention to himself as his uncle had done. The parking area was crowded with customers hurrying to take care of business before the bank closed at five, only a few noticing in their rush the big Mexican going after Uncle Andy.

By now, Uncle Andy was in front of the car, then he was on the lawn, heading for the corner of the building, with Jimenez following, and Paul behind Jimenez.

Turning the corner of the bank building, Paul saw Uncle Andy trapped, with a grove of cactus landscaping behind him, the bank on one side, and a low stone wall on the other. And Jimenez was getting closer, now only about five feet away as Uncle Andy, his eyes full of fear, looked past the Mexican at Paul.

The Mexican must have sensed someone was behind him because he turned to Paul just as he pulled the phaser from his pocket. With a quick movement of his thumb, Paul adjusted the wheel on top, pointed the phaser at Jimenez, and pressed the button. With a whirring sound from the phaser, the big man fell to the grass like he'd been poleaxed.

"Is he dead?" Uncle Andy asked, looking down at the Mexican on the grass.

"I stunned him," Paul said. "Come on, let's get going, I don't know how long he'll be out."

Uncle Andy turned to Paul. "Can you kill him? That'd solve our problem for now."

"I'm not killing anyone. Now, let's go I'll drop you off at the hotel. I wanna get away from this business."

In the car, "We better not go to the Palmyra," Uncle Andy said. "I'm afraid they might figure that's where I'm heading and have it watched, like they might've done with the bank."

"How could they know about the bank, you used a fake name?"

"I don't know, maybe they found out I had that box there, or maybe someone recognized me and contacted them," Uncle Andy paused for a second. "We better go to Mr. Cancello's house. I'll tell you how to get there."

"Alright, I'll leave you there. Then I'm off to Santa Carmena. If I leave right away I should be home by ten or eleven."

"In time to see your girls," Uncle Andy said, smiling. "So you didn't do so bad helping out your uncle did you?"

Paul turned to look at him. "No, not so bad."

Uncle Andy chuckled, then said nothing more than was needed to direct Paul to their destination. They drove out of the city, to a well-irrigated area of luxurious homes. It was a gated community, so they were checked by guards at the entrance. They showed their IDs, then waited for the guard to call Mr. Cancello's house.

On the phone, the guard said. "They wanna know who Brandt is."

"My nephew. Tell them he's okay. They know they can trust me," Uncle Andy shouted.

After a few quick words on the phone, the gate opened and the guard waved them through. They followed the private road around the golf course, then around an artificial lake to what looked like the biggest home in the community.

There were two big men, Cancello's men, in the driveway awaiting them. Paul drove up the circular drive, pulling into the driveway and parking where they directed him.

"Give me that thing, the weapon," Uncle Andy said, quickly shoving the phaser into the glove box before the men reached the car.

One of Cancello's men was standing on either side of the car. "Let's see your IDs," the one on the driver's side said. Then, after checking and returning their driving licenses, "Out." When Paul and his uncle exited, they were quickly and efficiently patted down.

"Tony, you know you can trust me," Uncle Andy objected as he was patted down.

"No exceptions, that's what Mr. Cancello says," he answered. "What's that?" indicating the leatherette folder on the front seat of the car.

"That's why I'm here. It's information for Mr. Cancello."

Tony took the folder from the seat, opened it and when he saw it contained no weapons, gave it to Uncle Andy. "Let's go," Tony said, leading them into the house, the other man following.

As he led them toward the rear of the house, "You're lucky Mr. Cancello is in," Tony told them. "He usually doesn't get home till later."

He directed them to the den, with windows overlooking a pool where a young boy and girl were playing in the water, an attractive woman in a bathing suit covered by a wrap watching them. "Mr. Cancello, this is Andrew Carlson and Paul Brandt," Tony said, then he and his companion exited the room, closing the door behind them.

Joe Cancello, the Mafia boss, didn't look much like Marlon Brando. He was about forty years old, Paul guessed, tall, in good shape with sharp, angular features, his eyes bright with intelligence.

As they entered, Cancello was standing, looking out the window. When his men left, "I heard you were dead," Cancello said, his eyes on Uncle Andy.

"An exaggeration. I've been hiding out from the Jimenez brothers."

"And the Feds too, I heard. This your nephew?" looking at Paul.

"Yes ... sir," Paul answered, hesitating at using the honorific. "Paul Brandt, I drove my uncle here from Santa Carmena, California."

Cancello looked at Paul's uncle. "Alright Andrew, what you got for me?"

Uncle Andy opened the folder, leafed through the papers, and handed them to the boss.

Cancello glanced at the papers for a moment before taking a seat behind the desk. He looked up from at Uncle Andy, "This is about what happened on the Edmond Street hit, when Bobbie was killed."

"Yes," Uncle Andy answered. "It's all there, the proof."

Looking at Paul, "You better wait outside," Cancello told him, pushing a button on his desk.

The guards opened the door and directed Paul out of the room to a sitting room. He sat down on the sofa, where they told him. They offered a drink, then brought the Pepsi he asked for. It took about a half-hour till Mr. Cancello and Uncle Andy came out.

"You and Andrew will be my guests tonight," Cancello told Paul.

"Uh ... sir, I can't do that," Paul objected. "I've gotta get back to Santa Carmena. I need to be in school tomorrow."

"School? You're a teacher?"

"High school, English."

He smiled at Paul. "A noble profession. I can't let you go, not after what happened to Bobbie, till everything's taken care of, but I'll do what I can for you." He turned to his men. "Take them to the Palmyra and see they get the best room available, but no communication with the outside."

Paul started to object, but realizing it was useless followed the guards outside and into a white Lincoln limousine that had been parked in front of the house.

When they got there, Paul found the Palmyra was a small, but luxurious hotel just off the strip, apparently for a select clientele. They were directed into the elevator and to the top floor and ushered into an elegant, two bedroom suite.

"We'll have dinner sent up," Tony said. "You should find plenty to drink at the bar. If you need anything, let the man outside your door know." He paused before continuing, "Give me your cell phones." As Paul and Uncle Andy handed them over, "The room phones are shut off, so you can't contact anyone outside. Like I said, if you need anything, let the man outside know. When everything's taken care of, you'll be contacted."

When Tony left, "So now you've got us made prisoners," Paul said to his uncle, not trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

"Don't worry," Uncle Andy said heading for the bar. "Once the Jimenez brothers are taken care of they'll let us go." He examined the bottles, then poured himself a half-glass of whiskey. "Might as well enjoy ourselves."

Paul wandered through the suite, looked into the bedrooms. In the bathroom he found two packages, each containing a toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, razor, a small can of shaving cream, and more toiletries.

Back in the sitting room, "We can't even make a phone call," Paul said, trying one of the room phones and finding it dead.

"You want to call your girls?" Uncle Andy asked, smiling at his nephew.

"If it's my girls who are there."

Uncle Andy sipped his whiskey. "I think they'll be there. Understand Paul, when you move things between very different dimensions, they, uh ... the objects and the dimensions, they need time to adjust, to readjust. It's like a spinning coin, or a top, at first it oscillates from side to side, and then it reaches equilibrium, and then you've got it, got them, got your girls.

"And tomorrow this'll all be over, and you can go back to your girls and you'll have the book, so you can make things better for you from now on."

"I just want out of here," Paul said, staring out the window.

There was a knock on the door and their dinner was brought in. The guard from the hall came in to make sure there was no communication with the room service staff as they set the dishes on the table by the balcony. When the hotel staff left, Paul and Uncle Andy took their seats.

The food was good, very good. Because they hadn't ordered from the menu, they were given a variety of dishes - two entrees, one beef, the other chicken, rice, brown and mashed potatoes, several different steamed vegetables, salad, bread, and a selection of desserts. There was more than enough for the two of them, and with a nice choice of wines, it was a very satisfying meal.