Chapter 18: It's Been a While

Veronica Blake called Doreen back at 4:45 to tell her they'd take the deal. Doreen told her we'd meet them at 8:00 AM sharp to sign the contract and get started. She had been correct that Veronica would be taking me around to view the site and conduct interviews. She asked Veronica to email me copies of the initial interviews, and while it wasn't exactly policy to release the information before the contracts were signed, she would see if they could make an exception in this case. Doreen told her that considering the time constraints, they had better be prepared to be very flexible in this case. She also made the offer of the reduced fee if they met my terms for avoiding publicity — but only offered a three percent reduction instead of the five I had told her — and added the contingency that nothing appear for at least five years, or they had to pay the extra three percent. Three percent doesn't sound like much, but the possibility of having to pop for seventy-five hundred dollars just because someone ran their mouth to the press saying it was me, or my company, that had recovered the piece, should make anyone think twice about shooting his mouth off.

Veronica said she would have an answer by the time we got there in the morning.

Christine returned from her first full day of flight school loaded down with books to use as reference materials for her various homework assignments. Two of them were huge volumes dedicated solely to FAA regulations. One of the others was on aircraft architecture and contained structural and engineering specifications on a variety of aircraft and engines.

"That looks like fun," I said as she set the stack on the coffee table.

"Yeah, that's what Brian said. The instructor promptly informed him that flying commercial aircraft was not intended to be fun, and that if he expected thousands of people every year to entrust their lives to him, he had damned well better take it seriously and make sure no one ever got the idea he was doing this for fun."

"And I'll bet you just jumped right to your feet and pointed out to the instructor that he was being sarcastic."

"Damn," she swore. "I knew there was something I forgot to do. I'll make it a point to tell her first thing in the morning."

"Yeah," I laughed. "I'll just bet you will. So, does any of this worry you?"

"It's a little daunting, but thousands of people have done it before me; and if they can, I can. I'll get through it."

"Maybe I can help," I suggested. "One of the things I mastered in school was studying. My technique is unusual — to say the least — and you're going to have a hard time believing that it's going to work, but I'd like you to at least give it a try, okay?"

"Hey, anything that will help me get through this is worth a shot. Does this mysterious technique have anything to do with why you seemed so certain that I was going to smoke this class?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. Dinner is going to be ready in a few minutes, so why don't you slip into something more comfortable, and we'll get started after we eat."

"Actually I have a better idea," she said as she began unbuttoning her blouse. "Why don't you arrange for dinner to keep itself warm and slip into me, then we can both be more comfortable?"

"Have I mentioned lately how much I love this girl?" Jamie said in husky voice.

I turned off the oven and the fire under the pot I had been preparing to steam the broccoli in — the rice cooker was fine as it was — and waved for her to precede me. Whenever possible I prefer to follow women. The view is better.

We had dinner on the patio, so we could enjoy the sunset.

"I'm going to be busy the next few weeks," I told her. "After you left this morning, I got a call from a local insurance company that needs help tracking down a missing painting. First thing tomorrow morning I have to get started."

"How busy?"

"Very — I'm kind of their last ditch attempt. They've had their own investigators plus another local firm working on it for about two months; so far, without any success. They've only got three weeks left before they have to pay out on a million-five policy, so they decided to let someone else have a shot at it."

She let her voice go deep and said, "Top of the ninth and the Yankees are down by seven here in the last game of the series. They're going to need a miracle to save this one." The tone changed, "That's true, Marv. Davies has struggled all night with little success against the Big Red Machine. Martin's got to go the bullpen for Malcolm if he hopes to pull this one out. The question is: has he already waited too long, or can Malcolm bring them back from the edge?"

She was pretty good, and I was doing my best not to crack up.

"That was pretty good," I said. "I didn't know you were a fan."

"Daddy lived for baseball," she said, shaking her head at a memory, "which is kind of ironic considering we lived in a state that didn't even have a Major League team most of my life. He made up for it as best he could by going to spring training camps to watch the pro's working out in the off season — and announcing for the Arizona League games. When they announced the Diamondbacks were coming, he called everybody he knew and bought the first two season tickets they sold. He camped out for two days before they opened the ticket window. My mom and I took turns taking him food and standing in for him, so he could go to the bathroom. They wrote him up in the paper and took a picture of him when they handed him those first two tickets."

I could see moisture forming at the edges of her eyes; she was lost in that place people go when they're reliving special memories.

"I'll never forget opening day... ," a tear trickled down her cheek. "We got there early, pulled into the reserve parking lot, and headed for the gate. The look on Daddy's face when they scanned our tickets and handed them back ... He had a special envelope he had brought, and he tucked them inside. There was a woman there, waiting inside the gate, and she stepped right up to daddy and said the owner had invited us all to come up and watch the game from his private box. For daddy it was a dream come true. The team autographed the ball they got the first strike out with, "To our Number One Fan", and gave it to him. They took his picture when they presented it to him and put it up on the big screen. The owner had a copy framed and put up in his box."

It seemed like a lot to me, and she must have seen the look on my face.

"I know what you're thinking," she said, "and you're right; it does seem a little excessive, but you see, daddy was in a wheelchair. He lost his legs in an accident when I was a little girl, but it never slowed him down. They were impressed that someone in his condition would do all that just to get those first tickets."

"You really miss him, don't you?"

"Yeah, I do. I'm okay most of the time, but then something like this happens, and I get all..." She let the sentence fade.

"What happened?"

"Leukemia," she said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly as she struggled with the surge of emotion. "We thought he was going to make it, but ... The team autographed a uniform for him. Everyone, from the owner down to the ball boys, groundskeepers, concession people; the whole thing is covered in ink. We buried him in it. My brother kept the seats; he takes poor kids from around the area — kids with no dads, or local orphans."

There was too much pain here, and I knew there had to be more. I could only think of one reason that might be.

"You didn't get to say goodbye, did you?" It was a statement, not a question.

The dam broke, and she began to shake. I moved behind her and leaned down to hug her, just holding her until she was ready to go on.

"He wouldn't let anyone see him towards the end," she said, her voice a mosaic of hurt and bitterness. "He said he didn't want us to remember him like that. He made my mother promise the casket would be sealed, and she kept her word. I hated her for doing that. I remember when she told me he had finally ... passed. She said that the angels had taken him, and he was in a better place. I like to think she was right, but I don't know if I really buy the whole angel thing."

"I didn't either until Shannon died. Now I do."

She turned to look at me. "Seriously?"

"Absolutely," I assured her. "I was there when she died; Mark and her parents died in the accident, so my parents became her legal guardians. We were all there: Me, Allison, my parents, some others that loved her. Right at the end ... it seemed like she sat up and said something. It's weird because I know her body never moved, but just for a second ... And then there was this flash — not a light, but like a blur of motion — and she was gone. Her monitors had been going off, and when the crash team came in, we all backed into the corner to give them room, and they saw it, too. There was this big black nurse, gosh, what was his name? Something with an 'S'... , Stuart! Big guy, wore these bright red scrubs with little smiley faces all over them. He told the others they were wasting their time, but they had to try anyway. He was right. We all knew that nothing they could do would make a difference."

"And you think it was an angel?"

"Yeah, I do. Was your mother there when he died?"

"Yeah, he didn't want her there, and she said she was just doing it so she could finally get the last word. She held his hand right to the end."

"Then I'd take her word for it. Come on, let's get these dishes done, and then you've got homework to do."

She laughed and blew her nose on a napkin. "Going to spank me if I don't get it done?"

"Worse," I said. "I won't spank you if you don't get it done."

Once we were done with the dishes, I had her sit down on the couch with me and started flipping through the first chapter of all of her text books.

"David, this is silly," she complained as we finished the second one. I was going through them with her so I would be able to go over them with her later.

"Trust me," I said.

"But..."

"Hey," I interrupted, "Do you want that spanking or not?"

"That's not fair!"

"It is if you don't finish your homework, and this is part of the assignment."

"Says who?"

"The guy that signs your paycheck, and is in charge of your bonus program, — part of which is the occasional set of hand-prints on your ass — next page."

"When is payday by the way?" she asked as she flipped over the next page.

"Every two weeks, but bonuses are on an informal 'pay as earned' program. I'm a firm believer in instant gratification when deserved; next page."

"Aren't we going a little fast?" she asked.

"No, not as long as you get a good, clear look at each page; the image is actually imprinted on your memory; you'd be amazed at what you can remember this way."

"How come I've never heard of this technique before?"

"It's new and still in the testing phase. My sister dreamed it up. She and Shannon both got straight A's using it."

"What about you?"

"All but one: I got a 'B' in my social studies class, but I had the world's most boring teacher. It was all any of us could do to stay awake for fifty minutes a day. Next page."

"Kiss me first,"

I tickled her instead. "Next page!"

"Shouldn't you be researching that painting you need to find?"

"I don't officially start until tomorrow."

"So?" She said. "You already said you're on a last-minute time table. If it was stolen, there are probably articles about it in the paper and on the web. Couldn't hurt to look."

"You're just trying to get rid of me," I accused.

"No I'm not," she said, closing the book, setting it back on the table and reaching for another one. "You owe me a spanking, or you will if I can stay awake to get through three more chapters."

"It's actually a good idea," I said. "I knew there was reason I hired you."

"You mean besides the bonus program?" she asked as I got up to retrieve my laptop.

"Can I get you anything while I'm up?"

"Do we have any wine?"

I stopped. "Actually, no we don't. Make a note in your calendar to pick some up tomorrow."

"Hey! That's not fair."

"No," I agreed. "The Fair isn't until February, and it's all the way up in Reno. We can go if you want, but that's not exactly what we were talking about."

"They have their State Fair in the middle of winter?"

"Next page."

With everyone in three different time zones, it was getting really interesting trying to manage my nights. My first order of business was to finish up with Christine, so she could get on with her studies. More important than her homework was reassuring her on another front, so I showed her the scene of Shannon's last moments. Then I let her see the follow up images of the effect the scene had had on everyone. She was most impressed with Roxy's excitement at seeing an angel. I finished off with our follow-up discussion at school the next day.

"Thank you, Jimmy," Christine said softly when it was over. "So who's Roxy?"

"A girl we've got in hiding on another case I'm working. I met her just before Shannon died. I'll tell you about it sometime. Right now I am going to dazzle you with the reason behind flipping through your textbooks, and why you're going to impress the hell out of everyone at class."

I materialized a coffee table with her books on it and just picked up the one on top. I opened it up and showed it to her as I explained. "Your mind has seen this book, and it's seen the entire first chapter, so if you open it..." I opened it up and showed her as I went, " ... the whole first chapter is here."

I flipped back further and showed her that the pages were blank.

"If you had flipped through the rest of the book, these pages would be filled in, too. So next time you're bored, flip through the rest, because then you can read them here while you're asleep — rather than wasting valuable time during the day. Once you've been in the simulator and learn how everything works, you'll be able to practice that here, too. You'll probably have an edge going in as well; chances are there are details on the different cockpits in these tech manuals."

Just for kicks I generated a mock up of the flight simulator they had shown in one of her textbooks. "We can even hook you up with a little private instruction from any of the pilots you've ever flown with or met, but we'll get to that later."

"This is so cool!" she exclaimed. "No wonder you said I was going to do so well. I've got training options the others don't!"

"Exactly," I said. "Now, I've got things I need to be doing, so why don't you find a nice quiet place over there in the shade and read those chapters you scanned, and we'll review them when I get back. Well, the two I actually read with you anyway."

I didn't have a lot of actual work I needed to do until after I had a chance to talk to Allison, and she wasn't going to be available for a few hours yet, so I took the opportunity to go see some people I hadn't seen in a while. I called ahead first to make sure Bob and Rebecca weren't involved in anything I'd be embarrassed to walk in on. They weren't, so I met them in Bob's office.

"James, my boy!" Bob exclaimed, getting up to shake my hand as I entered. "Good to see you. Gosh, it seems like it's been forever."

"Yeah, I know. It's hard to believe it hasn't even been a month since I left." I turned to Rebecca. "How's Amy doing? I asked Walter, but all he said was that her vocabulary was expanding."

After the laughter stopped and Rebecca had dried her eyes, she managed to tell me that Amy was doing 'just incredibly.' "I swear she's getting stronger by the hour," she said. "If nothing else her invisible friend is a real encouragement. One of these days..."

I froze her just long enough to glance at Bob quickly, and he gave a small shake of his head, indicating that it wasn't a good time to pursue the issue of Walter. I let the scene move forward and asked if Rod had been in touch with her regarding recent events.

"Not since your parents and Allison were kidnapped. He's been really distant lately. I'm starting to wonder if he thinks I'm not coming back. Jimmy, no one told me what happened; are they okay?"

Rod hadn't told her? Not a good sign.

"We got them back. He's relocating them to Hawaii, giving them new identities, the whole shot."

"Hawaii? How did he swing that? WitSec wouldn't spring for that even if we had a case, which we don't."

"Independent funding."

"Ah, I see."

"Rebecca, I know what's bothering Rod."

"Yeah, your new abilities," she said. "Jimmy, I've been trying — trying hard — not to think about it. I've decided this falls into the same category as whatever you did to stop Kurtz: I don't want to know. If you're here to talk to me about any of this, please don't. I don't want to know any more about what you can do. If you need to talk to someone, talk to Bob."

"I understand. Rebecca, I value your friendship. That's why I called Atkins instead of you about Andrews and Charles. They had to be stopped, and I wasn't sure if she would — if she could — do anything to stop them. Rebecca, I couldn't let them get their hands on Phoebe. Andrews was the one who killed the man in jail — or at least he's the one who set it up — and he personally slaughtered the rest of the family, and it was Charles who torched Phoebe's Uncle's house. Andrews dreamed of killing young girls. He'd done it twice before. Rebecca, I couldn't..."

She put her fingers over my mouth. "I know, Jimmy. You did the right thing, and I don't think less of you for doing it. You were the only one that could save her, and I am so sorry for that. Do I have problem with you killing to law enforcement officers? Of course I do. I'm an agent of the system, and in the eyes of the law — the law I'm sworn to uphold — what you did is wrong. They should have been arrested and tried. By all rights I should arrest you and you should be tried."

She hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"Jimmy, no one likes to admit it, but the system has flaws; this was one of them. The problem is that if you do the right thing, it points out the flaws — which embarrasses the people in charge of the system — and they tend to go after you for breaking the rules rather than admit there's a problem. There's nothing like a good witch-hunt to distract the media and the public from looking too closely and finding the hole. I'm very proud of you, Jimmy, for having the courage to do what needed to be done, and I'm also very sorry, sorrier than I can say, that the system let you down by putting you in that position. Fortunately, there is no way in hell you could ever be convicted, because there is no way to prove you had anything to do with it. We all know that; you, me, Rod, even Atkins, and she only knows that my source threatened to stop them by any means necessary from getting their hands on Phoebe ... We all know that it was necessary. At the same time, the fact that you could pull it off the way you did — with no evidence of any kind — is going to weigh heavily on Rod, because he's worried about what all the killing may be doing to you. Hell, I'm worried about it. Jimmy, if you ever went over to the dark side...

"He trusts you because he knows the truth; he worries because you don't have the system to support you. That's why he stresses the importance of talking to someone. If you asked, he'd set you up with some of our psyche people to talk to, totally anonymously, with all the legal protection of doctor-client privilege. So if you ever reach the point where Bob, Easy, Allison, and I — whoever else you confide in — aren't enough, ask him."

"Thank you."

I wasn't sure if I should go on. I'd decided that she deserved to know, but I didn't know if she wanted to. I froze her instead.

"Bob, should I tell her they killed the guards when they took Allison and my folks?"

"No," he said. "She really doesn't want to know."

"Does she want to forget?" I asked.

Bob just stared at me for a few seconds. "You can do that?"

"I don't know. I think so. I've been experimenting with some things, both on myself and on Christine. I've created a ... sort of a 'personality clone' of myself, to use with Hightower. He doesn't know anything about me or what I can do; he really is just David Malcolm. I used him this Sunday. I think maybe Hightower didn't try anything this time. Either that or Jamie and I were so deep we couldn't detect it, because we didn't. Christine's is different. That's a story in itself. We decided to tell her the truth — most of it anyway — not what we're doing, but she knows about Amber, knows about me and my basic gift; Lizzy even told her about her gift. Then we sort of trapped all of those memories in the dream. During the day, she's just Christine, and we're just normal people; but here, she remembers everything. She also knows everything that happens during the day, and she is influenced by what she knows..."

"Well, of course she is," he said. "The subconscious influences everything we do."

"Anyway, I've been talking to her at night about what happened during the day, so that I'm sure she's comfortable with all of her decisions."

"Jimmy, I'm very proud of you. I'm also just floored that you were able to do this. Are you thinking of doing something like this with Rod and Rebecca?"

"I don't know, but I think I may have to. I think he may be a little more worried about me than he lets on. Bob, I think you should know: I killed the men that kidnapped my family."

"Jimmy, I don't think anyone would..."

"There's more," I said. "My parents were in a house in LA, but they were sending Allison somewhere else. They had her on a ship. There were eleven of them. There were two left when the explosions started."

"Explosions? You blew up... ?"

"No, it was rigged, and I don't think they knew it. Suddenly there was a series of explosions, and the ship started going over on its side. I went back for Allison; the cabin was already filling up, and she was trapped under the water — I didn't realize they had her cuffed to the bunk. I got her out, but she had already stopped breathing. The cabin was almost full by then, and the pressure was incredible. I didn't know what to do, and I panicked, and then I passed out."

"You passed out? Jimmy, if you passed out, then how... ?"

He stopped as I held up my hand.

"Just before I passed out I had a ... vision, I guess, of the cabana. When I woke up, we were in a hospital in Tahiti."

His eyes got positively huge, and he was suddenly pacing the room.

"Jimmy I... , I don't... , Tahiti?" he stopped. "Wait a minute. How did you get on the ship?"

"When Jamie and I rescued Rebecca and Amy, the fight with Kurtz... , we're good, but we aren't that good. I got busted up pretty bad. A couple ribs were broken, and one had punctured a lung. Anyway, I found out who's been helping me. She had come earlier and told me how to heal myself and save Jamie when Kurtz shot us with the tranquilizer."

"Save Jamie?" he asked, confused.

"It's hard to explain. Anyway, that was before the fight. That was when she showed me that I can ... Bob, you know how Walter said I walk in both worlds?"

"Yeah, I remember you talking about that."

"Well, it turns out it's not just metaphorical. Bob, I can step into this world — physically."

"You can do what? Jimmy, this is a dream; it's not real; there's no reality for you to step into. How could you possibly... ?" He shook his head like he was trying to clear it. "Never mind, go on."

"She showed me, told me rather, how to do it, and once I was here I was able to heal myself; then I just stepped back across, freed Rebecca, and let Rene free himself."

"I imagine that was hard for you."

"No, not really," I said. "He was so happy that it was over, I couldn't help but be happy for him, even if it meant...

"But I was stuck there, and I needed to get away before Rebecca finished getting free and called Rod. It occurred to me that if I could walk into a dream and back out again, that maybe I could walk out somewhere else. So I tried it. And it worked."

"Ho-lee shit!" Bob said, "And that's how you got to the ship?"

"Yes."

"I still don't understand how you can walk in and out of a dream? It's not real."

"Allison has some theories about that. Bob, she thinks, and I'm starting to agree, that there's a lot more to all this than we ever imagined."

"More how?" he asked. Then he stopped me before I could answer. "You know, maybe before we go on, we should... ," he pointed at Rebecca still standing frozen not far away.

I didn't answer, just sent her off to be with Amy. She'd figure out what had happened. After all, she was the one who told me to talk to Bob.

"You know the beach?"

"Hello? Yeah, of course I know the beach, and while we're on the subject, no more cracks about changing the sheets; you guys don't even make the bed half the time."

"There you go," I said, "my point exactly. Bob, according to Allison, the beach is now a self-sustaining environment. Any of you seem to be able to go there at will — with or without me being there — and everyone still has all the same control that you have in any of my dream environments."

"Wow!" Bob said. "I mean, I knew we could go, but I thought it was just something to do with the keys you made for us. We can all go different places."

"A couple of times the girls have gotten there ahead of me — before I was even asleep."

He frowned and shook his head. "That shouldn't be possible."

"It gets weirder. Lizzy's key lets her go to Amber whenever she wants. Bob, she ordered Amber to go to Allison, and then used her key to follow her there. When I found them they were in Allison's dream."

"They were in... ," he started pacing again. "Jimmy, how... ? She would have to..."

"I don't know, they speculated that since it was something I would have allowed them to do had I been there, that somehow I unconsciously let it happen."

He thought for a moment before answering, "I guess that's at least a plausible explanation — maybe — but none of that explains how you can move physically into a subconscious construct."

"Who said it's just a subconscious construct?" Allison asked, fading in across the room.

"Oh, hello, Allison!" Bob said. "Gosh, it's so good to see you! It seems like forever since I saw you last." Deja vu? I hadn't realized how excited he was. He'd said almost exactly the same thing to me. "Allison, this is amazing stuff. I don't have the slightest idea how any of it's possible, but it's certainly amazing."

She moved forward and hugged him. "It's good to see you, too. As for all this being amazing — yes, it certainly is that. I'm still working on the underlying theories, and I have no idea how long it's going to take to develop something solid; there is just so much to consider. The math alone is going to take me years to even prepare for. Do you have any idea of the math involved in explaining how he moved from one geographic point on a spinning ball to another without killing himself? There are so many directional energy vectors it's insane!" She started ticking off points. "There is the relative speed of the surface to consider; things closer to the poles move at different rates than things at the equator. Then you've got the problem of hitting a moving target — in this case a ship — that's moving on a different vector, and under independent power, not just sitting still. I don't even want to think about things like deck movement caused by wave activity. Yet somehow he moves from one dynamic environment to a completely different one, smoothly and with no apparent strain. You know those cool slide-ways they have at LAX to move between terminals?"

"Yeah, I've been trying to get the school to install them for years."

"Cute," she said, rolling her eyes. "Well, picture yourself on one. Now picture stepping onto another one moving twenty-five miles an hour at a forty-five degree angle to the one you're on; now picture doing it at a run. Can you see yourself doing it without falling on your butt?"

"No," he said.

"Me neither," she said, "and that's only two moving beltways on the same plane; nothing compared to what he's doing, but somehow he's doing it like he's walking through a garden somewhere. Somehow he is able to justify all those inertial vectors without even thinking about it. Where is the energy going? Why isn't there any pressure change when he moves into a space that was empty a moment before? Why isn't there one when he leaves? Why don't his ears pop when he moves from Vegas to sea level?"

"Whoa!" Bob finally said, holding up his hands. "Slow down! I'm a psychology teacher; I don't do physics. You're right though, about all of it. The energy considerations aside, the physiological considerations still have to be dealt with. I can understand him healing something that happened to him in a dream, but if it's not a dream — and I don't see how it could be if he can somehow have a physical presence there — but if it is possible, then how in God's name can he possibly be healing himself in a space with physical limitations?"