Chapter 12: Deep in the Pages

In swarming numbers, the people rushed by, off on their own little errands. Head above the crowds, Bob mused how tall he seemed in Chinatown. Smells of oriental cooking wafted along with the more familiar smells of dense City life.

Tony, the kid's name, had led him here. The boy would have walked the entire way, but Bob decided a taxi would serve them better. The expatriate Pakistani driver understood just enough English to get them downtown.

The narrow side streets were cluttered with little store displaying signs mostly in the artistic script of China. Because Tony could understand them, Bob had little difficulty reading the signs. They went down an alley with a sign touting printing services.

Like most alleys, this one was narrow, with fire escape ladders on either side. Trash bins were against the walls, some missing their lids entirely. A rotting smell impacted Bob like a brick. He could sense the intelligences behind hidden eyes, watching them pass.

At the end of the alley, they came to a red enamel painted door. Tony looked about furtively, then knocked. Bob reached through the door, and took hold of the guard whose duty it was to screen visitors.

The door opened quickly. Tony led the way in.

He led along a gaudily decorated hallway, something like a bad Chinese restaurant. Tony waved Bob to follow him up some stairs.

Bob locked onto every mind he could find along the way, planting seeds of loyalty to himself. He didn't want to leave in too much of a hurry.

On the second floor, they passed through a barroom filled with young oriental girls. Most of them in stylized dresses, with carefully prepared makeup, some dressed very skimpily. Bob didn't need to read their minds to know what they were here for. Thoughts of lust emanated from the small rooms beyond. The girls were mostly bored.

Another set of stairs, Bob knew he'd get winded if they climbed the entire building by stairway. It turned out this was the last flight. They passed through a heavy, possibly metal, doorway at the top.

A very tastefully oriental decor graced the room they entered. An equally tasty looking young lady sat a reception desk before the only other exit. Her pale face was round and smooth, her olive complexion brought out the color in her seemingly slanted eyes. Her jet black hair was pinned in place atop her head with carefully crafted hair sticks.

Tony walked up to the desk.

"I'm here to see Chi."

"Tony, you know you're supposed to call first." Her voice was soft and seductive even with a scolding tone. "Who is this guy?"

"This is Bob" he stopped as Bob waved him to silence.

"Let me lead you in," the now completely controlled receptionist said.

She stood gracefully, as though accustomed to being ornamental. Her walk was a gliding motion, feet out of sight in her long dress, a silky white thing with stylized red dragons on it. She opened the door behind the desk and stepped through.

Bob followed, with Tony following respectfully behind.

The door entered into a large office. The decor was similar, a Bonsai at the corner of a great Oak desk. The woman led them to one of three other doors and through to yet another room.

This was a bedroom. A large bed graced the center of the room and on it an older Chinese man was obviously at his pleasure with two very young girls. None of them noticed the intruders immediately.

"Mr. Chi," spoke the receptionist. Her voice remained enticingly desirable, even with the stress of interrupting her boss. Yet when Chi broke away from intercourse, there was white rage in his eyes. Before he said anything, she gestured to Bob. "This gentleman is here to see you and it was urgent."

"Cindy, you will suffer for this indignity. You knew I wasn't to be disturbed!"

"Forgive the girl, Mr. Chi. She had no choice." Bob interceded without controlling Chi. Yet.

"Just who the hell are you!?"

The two girls had scrambled to the side and were covering themselves with sheets. Bob noticed they were twins. How very interesting. He waved the receptionist and Tony to step out and settled into a chair before answering the Tong equivalent of Godfather.

"I'm the man who can walk through any defense you create without anyone seeing me."

"Ninja? You can't be, if I was to die, I'd never know."

"Ninja!? I thought they were a myth."

"They are, for the most part. There are killers though, good ones, some who think they are Ninja. It would not surprise you to know I thought you were one such? Do you mind?" He nodded towards his clothes.

"Oh no, by all means. Get dressed. But while you do, I'd like to talk."

"Okay. You know my guards will tear you apart when they get here?"

"They won't. But that's unimportant." Bob admired the two sisters cowering to the side. He flung out a control probe, making them drop their sheets, and displaying themselves for his scrutiny. "Yesterday, I was in Brooklyn. This wouldn't be important normally, but it was to investigate why a pair of goons tried to kill me recently. As you might imagine, I was quite upset."

Chi simply nodded, acknowledging the remark. He'd pulled on his pants, and was working on his shirt. His jacket lay folded in a neat, if bumpy, pile along with his tie.

"After my business dealings on the subject, I found myself wandering one of the local parks. In that same park, the young man who just stepped out found me. He made the second attempt on my life. Oddly enough, he received his instructions from you. Or so he says."

The man now held a pistol pointed at Bob. Bob took control of the arm and forcing it to the side, making Chi's thumb reset the safety. Chi looked stunned at the actions of his own body.

"As you now can see, I don't need your cooperation. It just suits me not to overuse my skills."

"Seven Hells! How did you do that?"

"Think of me as a Sorcerer. You seem to already have that concept in mind. Yes, I think Sorcerer will explain it best in these digs."

"What do you want of me?"

"For starters, I think I'll take the Wu sisters home with me today. You should make a gift of them to me. They look like exquisitely fine fucks." By now they were poised beside Bob, legs crooked in a model's stance, chests thrust forward to show their small but firm breasts, and their arms spread palms out in supplication.

The man's rage reappeared. He didn't like his ownership of the two little harlots begin dismissed so easily. He had waited for these two to reach sexual maturity for years.

His anger passed quickly, replaced by calculated thinking. He realized the veiled threat implied by Bob's manipulation of the two girls.

"I'll tell you anything you want, but my orders came through channels from the Tong's national leadership. All I was told was to send someone to get you, someone expendable."

"Yup, that's Tony. If anyone's expendable, he is. So how did you know to get me in Brooklyn?"

"I was told you'd be there. Not why."

"How come you actually talked to Tony yourself, instead of some lesser thug in the Tong?"

"Ha!" The older man laughed for a moment. "I can see you know little. I shall explain. It will amuse me while I contemplate the method of your demise.

"I received orders to see to making the arrangements myself. Tony was chosen because of the combination he had shown of devotion and disposability. I would not violate honor throwing away someone with such loyalty not knowing what had been lost. I see his loyalty was more changeable than I believed. His entire family will be punished. He should have died before yielding up the Tong."

"You know how little control over his loyalty he had against my talents. Why do you still need to punish him and his family?"

"The cause does not matter, only what his actions matter. Others would sway like so many reeds in the wind if his example became known."

Bob finally scanned through the man's mind. Mostly he'd told the truth. Chi cared only for Chi. He knew exactly how to run his organization, and New York was his venue. This thing was an embarrassment because he'd had to dirty his own hands. He didn't like that much.

A little kernel of omitted fact had remained withheld from Bob. The higher organization had only passed on the contact. A man in a church in Harlem. All the information came from the unusual black man, even where Bob would be, although not why.

Bob ran his hands along the sides of the two girls, one now to either side of his chair. They sighed, letting their heated and lustful desire show. He let them writhe, anxious for his touch.

The Tong boss was irritated by this act. He couldn't get them to respond so, and if they did it would be a performance, not genuine lust. He controlled himself rather than anger the frightening self styled sorcerer.

It didn't matter much, Bob would do as he pleased with any man ordering his death. Even if only a middle man in the operation.

Bob adjusted Chi's memory. This had been a pleasant and profitable meeting, or so he'd remember. As a gift of friendship, he'd given the two girls to Bob. The entire assassination issue never happened. And Tony's family would be safe too.

Bob didn't really want the twins. Their little bodies were ravaged by drugs and abuse, and he simply couldn't bring himself to leave them here. He also wanted to do something decent, to assuage his own sense of virtue. He would do a serious job of reprogramming their lives, as soon as they all left.

For his own pleasure though, he did bring Cindy along. That breathy voice was so hot, he wanted to hear more of it.

Soon he would have to visit 121st Street, reaching into the heart of Harlem. He'd heard so many bad things about the primarily Black neighborhood. It didn't sound like much fun.

The offices of Schmitz, Martin & Lear had an unusual aspect to them.

The offices weren't so much those of a Law Firm, as the placard outside suggested, as that of a private club. It made sense since the club was the Cabal.

Past the receptionist, oddly enough a pert little oriental ethnic lady, were what appeared to be fully functional offices. Anyone walking to the back would come across a bored looking security guard. Ostensively he appeared to be guarding the file vault.

In reality, he was the last check point before entering the expansive suites of bedrooms and entertainment rooms. There was even a substantial dining room complete with serving staff. It was more like a concealed hotel and brothel than anything else.

In fact, there were quite a few staff members. Almost all of them very pretty or handsome, depending on choice of gender. For some members, this was a dumping ground for used toys, former mind slaves who could just be set free. They liked to trade the mutes they'd found though, and kept stock on hand for large parties.

Bob felt he understood Charles disgust with the members at the leadership level. It was simple enough to release these people to live more or less normal lives. It wasn't as if there was any shortage of mutes around.

One of the servant girls walked up to him. Her blouse was a revealing silk affair that left nothing of her ample breasts to the imagination. She bobbed in front of him, smiling. She struck a pose intended to give maximum access to any part of her body he wanted to touch.

"Master Charles will see you now. Would you like me to lead you to him?"

"Yes," before she turned he gently caressed her right breast with his left hand. He could feel the soft skin wasn't restrained by a bra, her nipple hardening immediately. She sighed, contented at any use made of her.

"Oh yes, I do like that," she breathed out in a sultry tone. She offered, "I'd love to make you happy with me."

Her eyes locked onto his, pleading to be treated as a toy.

Partly because it was too easy, partly because he wasn't the one controlling her, he dropped his hand to his side. She shrugged, as if waking from a pleasant dream, and walked off. He followed, admiring the lilt her heart shaped bottom had with her steps.

She opened a door, waving him in. He had no doubt that if he pulled her in with him, she'd gleefully perform any act he wanted. As he looked her in the eye, she winked seductively at him. He stepped into the room.

It appeared to be a sitting room. There were many sitting rooms in these offices. This one had high backed, deep cushioned chairs, upholstered in thick red velvet.

Before him, in one of the chairs, sat the enforcer of the Cabal. The Inquisitor they named him. The man looked like a college professor, in relaxed clothing, a brown sports jacket and gray slacks. He'd added one element to his general appearance since Bob first met him. Charles was affecting a pipe habit.

At the far wall, a TV encased in a cabinet blared. Bob caught a glimpse of someone pounding away at a pulpit with a red covered, gilt edged book. Ah, some Holy Roller, preaching from the boob tube. The TV clicked off as Charles pointed a little black box its general direction. Charles was certainly interested in the God business lately.

"Much as I hate the idea, he may be one of ours. If so, he's got to be reined in. Too much political involvement." The voice came from the deep chair. After a moment, Bob realized Charles was talking about the pulpit pounder.

Charles turned and broke into his best 'for company' smile. Bob wondered if Jorge would have to do the job, dropping his search for the Institute.

"How do you like the Big Apple?" The remote control box was put to the side.

"I'd like it better if people didn't keep trying to kill me."

"Jorge said something had happened. A couple guys at one of the local eateries?"

"And yesterday a kid with a rifle in a park."

"I didn't know there was a second attempt. The good Lord must be watching over you."

"Yeah? More likely I've been watching over me."

"I suppose it's possible the Institute knows you're in the City. How is beyond me, though."

"Could be. You got any further leads on those clowns?"

"No. Jorge thought he had a hot lead in Seattle, but it didn't pan out. We haven't uncovered anything at the 'rehabilitation center' to chase after either."

"I see." Bob slid into one of the seats. There was something to be said for a nice soft chair.

"What has Jorge told you?"

"He just says he's working on it. Then he tells me to come talk to you if I want any more help. Say, there is something you could tell me"

"If I can."

"Tell me the history of the Cabal."

"The Cabal as we know it got it's name under the reign of Charles II of England"

"No, no. Before that, it must be older than that."

"Well, I'm a little sketchy. There are some official archives. They're in Scandinavia. But I can tell you a few things.

"No one really knows when it started. The first telepaths to band together in a mutual protection society did so before the dawn of time. At least, before records were kept of it. Keep in mind they lived as parasites on the civilizations going at the time, and as such didn't bother much with their own records until later than everyone else.

"The earliest records I heard of date to Crete. There were some pretty bizarre happenings, but back then the Voice was just a manifestation of the will of the Gods. Barbarous brutes.

"In Greece and Macedonia, a small group under the control of a man named Aristenes wandered aimlessly for a while. We found some records of them, referred to as the Ghostly Ones. From time to time they'd enter one of the City States and make off with a bunch of women or supplies, leaving as little memory of their visit as possible.

"The Romans were the first to actively persecute telepaths. They were executed as dangerous soothsayers. This was when the first real organization thrived. Back then we were the Senatus Secretus or some such Latin thing, the Secret Senate.

"Over the years, the group operated as puppet masters. They pulled the strings behind the political scenes for some time. Then a few of them fell out amongst themselves. There were some pretty brutal wars fought. You look in the history books and see internal conflict. The period of Caligula was particularly bad. What I see is the manipulation in striving to dominate other telepaths by military force.

"It was quite messy for a while. It wasn't until the middle ages, oddly enough still from Rome, that the leadership reconciled. They immediately set about trying to create rules to protect themselves against armed conflicts they'd created.

"Not that any of them gave a damn about the mutes. No, it was self preservation they were worried about. When entire civilizations go to war, everybody goes to hell and no one is safe. God bless, it was one thing they did right.

"There were a few rogues back then too though. Various different Kings surged forth with ideas of conquest. Advisors were thick as flies. Often there was someone with a Voice amid the flies.

"So the Senate put together a team of Voices to enforce the unofficial rules. They banded together through whatever was the best communication channel at the time, and tracked any Voice breaking cover."

Charles banged the pipe he held against his palm.

"Back then it was easier to cover up the damage. It was also much more likely any rogue Voice would be executed rather than persuaded. This century, there have been a few high profile Voices. We've done the best we could to control them."

"Like who?," Bob broke in.

"Many should be obvious. Adolf Hitler who had a whole set of Voices following him. Josef Stalin, and oh yeah, another World War II name, General MacArthur. Here in the '50s, Joe McCarthy. A man named Jim Jones who led a religious cult. There have been a few popular Rock stars you won't remember because their music was awful, but their concerts were great. Some Country/Western musicians, and not a few movie moguls, even Howard Hughes. Hollywood draws Voices like a magnet, I've got three permanent agents there now. How about Nick McFarrin? There's a name you won't know."

"Nick McFarrin?"

"All the nonsense about the conspiracy to assassinate Kennedy had to come from somewhere. Nick did it."

"Ho ho!" Bob chortled. "All that huzzah, and some guy with Voice was behind the whole thing?"

"Yup. Didn't like Kennedy's space program stuff. Real obscure reason, eh?"

Charles paused, looking up at the ceiling in disbelief for a moment before continuing.

"Anyway, we've been running under pretty much the same loose organization since the days of Rome. We just added some rules to protect ourselves. The name change happened because some bright Duke in England proper put two and two together. It added up to the Secret Senate and so he started a Witch hunt. The organization dissolved for a short while, after he'd executed a few of the leadership. Turned out he was immune to control or something.

"It was pretty rough for a time I'm told. But we don't have an official historian. Just a sparse bunch of old records, carefully kept up by the mutes brought in to do tedious work. They think they're monks, by the way.

"After that, the name Cabal stuck. Some idiot recently suggested we change it again to something like Illuminati. Read too much popular fiction in my opinion. So the old titles remained even with the name change, Inquisitor was the original title. Originally some kind of sergeant at arms."

"What are you going to do about these attempts to kill me?"

"Nothing. It's your problem. I suggest you go borrow a few detectives from the police to investigate for you. It's what any other Voice would do."

"You're joking, right?"

"Nope. I have real problems. The Institute for one. The idiot on the TV when you came in for another."

"But it is the Institute!"

"When they show up with mind shields, then I'll believe they represent the Institute. In the meantime, they're just mysterious goons. Possibly just working for some gangster husband you've upset. You can handle that yourself."

"Umm." Bob sat and contemplated. They both stared into space a while.

"I have to leave," Charles finally said. "Have fun while you're here. Adieu."

Charles walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Bob felt as though he had peered into the glass bottom of one of those eight ball prediction gimmicks. 'Answer hazy, try again later' kept coming up.

A clock ticked mechanically over the fireplace he hadn't paid any attention to. Since there was no help to be had here, he'd have to back track the would be killers himself. A chill crept down his spine.

"Hello?" came a woman's voice from the door.

"Yes?"

"Oh, I thought there wasn't anyone here. I was going to clean up. Never mind." She turned to leave.

"Wait," called Bob.

She turned back. He looked her over. Shapely, a bit bustier than most women, she wore a simple little maid's outfit. Her blonde hair was styled into an attractive perm ending at her bare shoulders. The legs she displayed curved eloquently atop 4 inch heels. Her stockings were straight, showing a neat little line up the backs as she turned.

"Step in here."

She walked forward, her bustline wobbling nicely.

"What's your name?"

"Jodi."

He appraised her carefully. She was in very good physical condition, even if she'd been adjusted by someone else. He probed her gently.

The blundering fool who made her a mind slave wasn't very subtle. The changes were implanted as though with a lead brick. Bob spent the next few minutes undoing the total suppression of her personality. At least the parts obliterating her ability to show initiative came away without too much trouble.

He was beginning to see why the other members didn't cut their slaves loose afterwards, they couldn't. If all the mind slaves were like this, they couldn't function in normal social lives without going insane. They'd all be entirely imprinted sex toys with limited other skills.