Chapter 24: Face to Face

Things were progressing as we moved into the most dangerous part of the game. Another couple died in an accident the second week of November. Two wasn't enough to establish even the semblance of a pattern, so for now we were still okay, but that wouldn't last. Eventually the numbers catch up, and they start to question the coincidence factor. For this reason, Jamie was targeting the most sadistic members of the group first – the ones like Essex who seemed to really get their kicks brutalizing and humiliating the girls. Frank and Irene hadn't been that close to the top of the list, but getting Samantha and Rachel with someone who cared about them had been my chief priority. Kathy Hendricks could be dealt with later. It would also delay them starting on Rachel for a little while – at least until she got over the trauma of losing her parents.

The second couple had owned a secluded cabin on Lake Mead. It was only accessible by boat, and their idea of a good time was to take one or more of the girls there and chain them naked to the pillars on the front porch, like dogs. They fed them out of regular pet dishes with their hands cuffed behind them, so the only way to eat or drink was to kneel and push their faces down in the bowl. If there were two, they made them lick each other's faces clean. This was also their only option for personal hygiene. If there was only one, then they would just hose her off. Sometimes they would even leave them on the porch overnight, exposed to the elements and wild animals in the area. Their only concession to safety was spraying them liberally with mosquito repellant.

Doctor Hendricks had needed to treat one girl for dehydration and exposure after they left her there while going for supplies. Their boat had developed engine trouble while they were gone, and she had been left without food or water for two days before they could get back to her. By the time they returned, she was cut and bleeding from her futile attempts to escape her bonds. Hightower had been royally pissed at their carelessness and forbade them to leave the girls alone. From then on, at least one of the parents had to stay with whichever girls were there at all times.

The scariest part was that the girl had never even considering crying out for help. Getting herself free might get her in trouble – perhaps even punishment before the group – but the price of attracting attention was death, and she knew it.

Her name was Autumn, and she had been twelve years old at the time. She was also their daughter. Five years later she tried to run away. She's currently living somewhere in the Middle East. The nice lady in Washington assures me that she can get her back when it's safe.

Not surprisingly, the worst of the bunch were the board members, but with the exception of Essex, we were leaving them alone ... for now.

The keys to the program were patience and keeping the causes and timing as random as possible. Starting with the more ... twisted ... players might also cause some of the others to reconsider their choices when the pattern finally became clear. Jamie was also careful to randomize her selections, targeting people from different groups within the church. Since most of them only knew a few others in the group, it lessened the chances anyone would realize what was happening. Eventually, though, it was going to be impossible to keep it quiet.

As agreed, I was staying as far away as possible from the killing. Usually I didn't even read the comics section of the paper.

Our own experiments had been eye opening as well. In addition to finding out what made Dominique Spencer tick, we still had Bastion to deal with.

Bastion already knew someone was working against him; his little trick with the buried kill command had confirmed that. The fact that I was able to safely disarm it and seriously mess with his some of his key people at the same time had to have worried him somewhat. So many people waking up in pain from Jamie skinning them alive in their dreams couldn't have gone unnoticed, but so far there had been nothing in the way of a new attack. So far, he had been fighting a defensive battle, against an unknown adversary using what amounted to guerrilla tactics. Of course, that may be a little strong since I hadn't really been doing any harm up to this point.

Meanwhile, I was still looking for a way to go after Hightower directly, a risky proposition to say the least. My 'dummy' persona had proven a great way to avoid exposure but useless beyond that. Neither Jamie nor I could sense any kind of attack when 'David' was in charge. Either Bastion was worried that we had sensed him the first day and was intentionally not doing anything, or he was trying and failing. It was a critical difference, and not knowing made the next move not only dangerous but – given who our enemy was – potentially fatal. Until I could be sure, all I could do was continue to carefully pick away at the edges of Hightower's stronghold and hope I got lucky. A dangerous strategy, to say the least, as I quickly found out the night I took the plunge and went to spy on one of Bastion's dreams...

I found Bastion in his penthouse apartment on the eighteenth floor of the downtown high-rise I had first seen in Samantha's dream. He was staring out the window at the swirling patterns made by the ant-like throngs of humanity on the street far below. He seemed to be brooding – as if something were bothering him. Worked for me.

From what I had been able to piece together, Bastion's life was founded on the time-honored principle that 'Knowledge is Power', and since he had discovered that he had the power to gain knowledge, the life he had founded for himself was very good indeed.

It was brilliant, really; the church was the perfect business, affording legal protections that most could only dream of, and a lifestyle that – if the details were ever truly known – would be the envy of many of the world's so-called rulers of old. In an age of restraint, political correctness, fairness, and equality, Bastion lived like a temple priest of the pagan past. Nothing, and – more importantly – no one he desired was truly out of his reach. Given time and the appropriate contacts, there was little he could not do and few, very few, that he could not control. I had a suspicion that had been taking shape in the darker corners of my mind that went a long way to explaining why he had to resort to something as mundane as blackmail in some cases.

According to the files Rebecca had shown me, the old idea of 'getting away with murder' had proven no challenge at all; Bastion had accomplished that feat twice already, but that was in the past, buried with his former name. Not forgotten, oh no, he never wanted people to claim he was hiding his past; that would be lying, and priests don't lie. The church members knew his past and grieved with him at the unfortunate reality of his having to change his name in order to make a new start.

Life is a journey of exploration and learning, and Christian Wallace had learned that – while the legal system posed no threat to him personally – it was better to avoid the spotlight that came with it whenever possible. It had been years since he had been forced to endure the scrutiny of the masses, years in which he had used his unique gifts to build his own private world of hedonistic delight, all tax-free.

The apartment itself was not even the property of the church, but rather donated by one of the faithful. Not for his personal use specifically, but for the head of the church, and it was tax deductible for the member after all. Yes, religion in America did have its perks.

So why was he here, brooding in his luxury apartment? Gosh, could it be someone was messing with his flock? Gosh, that really sucked. It must really be getting to him if he was even brooding about it here in his dreams. Broke my heart. Can you tell?

His silent reverie was interrupted as a single chime echoed through the apartment. The chime signaled that someone was on the way up in the elevator. With a last look down at the busy street, he went to greet his guest.

The elevator doors were tastefully hidden in the ornate mosaic which covered the inside wall. The elevator opened to reveal a young woman kneeling in the center of the floor, eyes downcast despite the blindfold covering her upper face. She was otherwise naked save for a single yellow ribbon holding her long dark hair in a loose ponytail. The clothes she had worn making her way to the downtown building were now neatly folded and stacked to one side. She knelt, without motion or sound, awaiting his command.

I couldn't help but marvel at the graceful way she knelt upon the polished floor; as if she were a statue carved of flesh, her feet carefully tucked under her, knees and ankles carefully aligned, hands neatly folded in her lap. If not for the rise and fall of her breast, a casual observer might mistake her for a piece of artwork waiting to be moved for display.

I recognized Jasmine's touch. She hadn't trained her, but the person who had knew her techniques.

"Rise."

She stood in one fluid motion, seemingly without effort, her hands never leaving her lap, eyes never rising. Even blindfolded, she had perfect balance. I recognized her and knew that the graceful movement was not the result of Jasmine's teaching, but from years of ballet training which had honed her every movement to a flowing grace that could truly be called poetry in motion.

"Your hand."

Another graceful play of muscles brought her arm to shoulder height, the delicately boned fingers extended for him to grasp.

"You are truly lovely," he said as he took her hand and led her forward into the room.

"My Lord is too kind." She followed without hesitation as he led her forward, trusting him to guide her around any perils that might be hidden from her. I knew from my time with Samantha and several other girls that she counted the steps as she went and was ready for the feel of the thick carpeting when she reached it.

Bastion was watching her every movement like a cat watching a mouse; the troubling thoughts that had occupied him earlier apparently forgotten, for the moment anyway.

"Kneel and begin."

"My Lord's will," she replied. With practiced ease she melted to the floor before him, her hands sliding down his chest to untie the silk robe he wore and find his manhood. Finding him already partially aroused, she rose slightly, took him gently into her mouth, sucked him in until there was no more, and then retreated to begin again. With each pass he grew harder and longer; within moments he had filled her mouth and was beginning to press at the entrance to her throat. Without hesitation she altered her position to allow him easier entrance and continued to press forward, taking his full length seemingly without effort.

Elliott Bastion, founder and high priest of the Church of the Inner Circle, smiled as his afternoon guest brought him quickly to a fully erect state. He stared down at her, seemingly amazed as she repeatedly swallowed his full length without effort or strain. All other thoughts were put aside as he gave himself over to her skillful ministrations.

She wasn't in Amber's league, and certainly not May's, but it was indeed an impressive performance. Women of such skill could be found in most major metropolitan areas; a city such as Las Vegas – which prided itself on its hospitality and the variety of entertainments available – could probably boast more than most cities. It was, however, not every day that you found such skill in a girl only fourteen years old.

"Sick bastard," Allison said as we stood invisibly watching the performance. "How long do we need to watch this shit?"

"I don't know," I answered, "but after Susan I don't want to take the chance we'll miss something important by leaving early."

"Great," she said dryly. "Have to admit, though, the girl's got talent. I bet she's a lot of fun when she's enjoying it."

"I don't know if they're allowed to enjoy it," I said. "Not for long, anyway. I'm sure they are at first, early in their training when they're being conned into believing how special it makes them. It's not until later that they learn the truth – that the only pleasure that's important is his."

"Be fair, Jimmy, they're not all men, and the women don't care if the girls enjoy it either. Most of them anyway; the one woman seems to go out of her way to make sure everyone has a good time. They don't seem to mind being with her."

"Then she is either doing something very right, or very wrong, my dear," Hightower said suddenly. "You'll have to tell me which one you mean, so I can find out which it is."

"Oh, shit!" Allison said softly.

"Such language," he said. "Were you one of mine, I would have to punish you for such an outburst."

I squeezed Allison's hand to keep her from responding, then kissed it and sent her to the cabana. The last thing I wanted or needed right now was to be distracted worrying about her. At the same time, I couldn't help but notice that the girl never wavered in her efforts despite what was going on around her.

"So," Hightower said. "At last you reveal yourself to me."

The way he was scanning the room peripherally, I didn't think he could actually see me. Apparently, his perception had been limited to hearing Allison and me speaking.

"I don't know if you would call it revealing myself ... It's taken a long time to track down the person responsible for this disgrace; I didn't want to rush in and scare you away."

"Scare me away? I fear you greatly overestimate yourself, young James."

If he was looking to shock me by the revelation of knowing my name, he was going to be disappointed. His gift would have allowed him to get any information Sam or any of the others had on me. Apparently, he didn't think I knew that...

"Oh yes, I do know who you are. Your name anyway, but that will do for a start. You've been careless in your visits among my faithful, and what they know, I know. So what is it you want?

"To put an end to sights like this," I said.

"Oh, come now, you can't seriously wish to deny me my simple fantasies. Surely there is no harm in a simple dream?"

"If it were limited to dreams, you'd be right, and I wouldn't care. But you've taken it way beyond that stage. These girls deserve better."

"Ah, the innocence of youth," he said. His tone was somewhere between wistful and sad. "I suspected you would be young. Few men continue using 'Jimmy' beyond the first few years in the professional world. It's almost refreshing. I was like you once you know."

"I doubt it," I said.

"Of course you do – as I said, you are young – but it's true. When I first discovered my gift, I told myself – as I am sure you have – that I would use it wisely, judiciously, to make the world a better, safer place. I actually thought the world would appreciate my efforts to 'do the right thing'."

"Really?" I tried to sound sincere, but I didn't buy it for a second.

"Oh, yes. Of course, it was difficult, as I'm sure you know, struggling to master and use a gift you don't truly understand without exposing yourself to those around you. Especially those you are trying to help.

"They fear us, you know," he went on. "They don't understand what we offer, only what we might do. They assume that since they would abuse the gift, that we will too, and so they react – not like sheep, but like cornered rats – lashing out at what they fear."

He had stopped thrusting himself into the girl's mouth, all but ignoring her as he focused on me.

"Now see what you've done?" he asked. "Thank you, my dear, you may leave now. Go with God and know that he loves you."

The girl vanished, and he re-tied his robe.

"And so I was forced to abandon my crusade to help the pathetic rabble that is the common man. We have arrived before our time, my young friend; the world is not ready for what we offer."

"I'd say the world is long past what you seem to offer. Slavery, abuse, exploitation, blackmail... , did I miss anything? Oh, yes, let's not forget murder."

"Those are grave charges, my young friend. If I were truly guilty of such things, don't you think the authorities would have stepped in by now?"

"And what good would that do when all you have to do is tell them to let you go? What are the chances of getting twelve people who could stand up to you on the same jury? And you only need one to get off."

"Ah, so you do know my little secret," he said. "But of course I know yours as well. How do you think the Joe Six-packs of this great nation would react if they knew that there was someone in their midst with access to all their darkest secrets? That is what they would think, you know, whether it's true or not. The ability to move through the dreams of others ... pluck whatever you find out at will. Tell me, can you affect the dreams or do you simply watch?"

"And I would share that kind of information why?" I asked.

"Because I asked," he said, "but you needn't bother; your works to date speak quite plainly that your gift is more than mere observation. Flaying my faithful alive in their own dreams? Hardly what I would call civilized behavior. That was you, wasn't it?"

I really didn't see the point of giving him any more information; he was doing pretty well with his deductions already.

Suddenly his eyes snapped to mine, "Answer me!"

"Yes," I said without thinking.

"Oh shit," Jamie said.

"Yes, now you understand, don't you, you arrogant little insect? Did you really think I couldn't see you? I knew you were here from the moment of your arrival. I could have taken you any time I wanted to. I have been expecting you, after all. You can't possibly have been naïve enough to think that I wouldn't be. I knew that you would eventually have to come to me. Who was that with you? Your friend Alice, perhaps, or was it Sharon? Oh yes, I know all about your playful little band. Sweet Samantha told me all about you. You really should have done a better job of covering your tracks. If you had stayed invisible, as you tried to here, you might have avoided notice for some time. Now, since we are no longer bound by the illusions, who are you?"

I felt the reply forming on my tongue and held it back.

The weight of his gaze grew heavier and he growled, "I asked you a question. Who are you? What is your name?"

This time I actually felt my mouth open, but I manage to close it again.

"Tell me!" he yelled, and it seemed this time as if his eyes burst into black flame.

Suddenly I was lying on the beach, staring up at Allison's face, framed in clouds. Actually it was Alice's face; we had agreed that she would remain in disguise until she was sure it was safe.

"Jimmy?" she asked tentatively. "Are you okay?"

"He's fine, Allison," Lizzy's voice said from somewhere behind me. "It's just him, nothing came back with him."

Jamie sat up out of me and said, "Yeah, we're good; I pulled us back before things got out of hand. Damn that guy is strong."

"It was a good first effort though," I said. "We learned a lot. Not the least of which is that he can see us whether we want him to or not."

"So it wasn't just sound?" Allison asked, switching back to her regular self. "Did he pick anything else up?"

"No, and I don't know how much he could actually see either," I said. "He knew who I was, but he didn't know if you were Alice or Sharon. He admitted he got the information from Samantha, so he should have been able to tell you apart."

"Hmm," she said. "That's interesting. I wonder what he's actually seeing? If he couldn't tell if I was blonde or brunette, then there certainly isn't much detail."

"Well, he could see well enough to know where my eyes were," I said. "When he decided to stop playing nice, he looked straight at me. Up to that point, I thought maybe he was limited to sound. He kept looking around like he was searching for where the voice was coming from."

"Yeah, well, we already knew he was a good actor," Allison said. "He does such a great job at pretending to be a man of God after all."

"I wouldn't be so sure he could see your eyes," Lizzy said. "Even if he's just seeing a glow, like what I used to see, then he probably just aimed for where the eyes should be. We're creatures of habit, and unless we really make an effort, we tend to default to standard human norm: the head goes on the top, the mouth, ears, etcetera, all go in the same general area. So, now that you've been there, can you see him?"

"I hadn't tried yet," I said. "Before I risk it, I want to go somewhere else, just me and Jamie, in case he can see me watching."

"That's kind of a stretch, don't you think?" she asked. "I mean, how could he see you watching?"

"How do you see him watching?" Allison asked. "We don't know the limits of his ability. It's not unreasonable to think he may be able to feel Jimmy watching the same as you do. As for him being able to see back along the link ... I don't know, but considering what's at stake, I'm for being just as careful as we can at every turn."

"Me too," I said. "I don't know if I'll be able to 'see' him the way I can most of you, but when I try, I think I'm just going to dress in ninja black and stand in a dark room – maybe with sunglasses on."

"Good idea," Allison said, "but don't trust that it's working; I wouldn't put it past him to try and fake you out again in hopes that you'll take a chance and give him another shot at you."

"Oh, he's going to get another shot," I said. "There's no other way we're going to get a shot at him except to keep trying and hope we find a weakness."

"Just be careful," Allison said. "Are you going to try making another fake persona like you did with David?"

"I was thinking about it."

"Thought so," she said. "Do me a favor and make it look like someone else, though, okay? Just in case his ability to see you increases with exposure. It would be really bad if he found out David Malcolm was his secret adversary. If he caught you off guard without 'David' in place..."

"If he didn't just blow the place up one night," Lizzy said. "Let's not forget who we're dealing with. He may dream about using your gift to his own ends, but I don't think he wants it so bad he would risk losing everything he's worked so hard to get. I think he'd be fine with the idea of just eliminating you and continuing on by himself the way he has been. It's worked for him so far, after all."

It was a moot point. Try as I wanted, I couldn't see him. In dreams or reality, I was going to have to deal with Hightower in person.

Two days later I tried sending a fake persona after him. Everything seemed to be going fine until I brought it back and it tried to kill me. Apparently, without Jamie or me there to keep an eye on it, he had managed to take it over. I was glad we hadn't sent it with any real information. I hadn't really expected it to work, and for fun I'd made it look like him. I figured anyone else he might think was someone I knew and try to track them down. Since I would have to base the image on someone I'd actually seen, it would have to be either someone I knew or just a random stranger. Since most of the random strangers I might come up with lived locally, it was not really a risk I wanted to take, and in the end, it didn't matter anyway.

How do you stop a guy you can't even look at in a dream?

Still, setbacks were to be expected; Bastion was just one part of the problem.

Another part was finding out how far we could trust Dominique Spencer. Testing her had been Jamie's nighttime project.

"So how is it coming with Nicki?" I asked.

"Jimmy, I've thrown everything at her I can think of; the woman is a rock. This isn't a setup; she doesn't know anything about Henslith – or the Black Queen – that isn't in the files. She thought about making some phone calls and stuff back when you first told her Henslith may show up for a visit, but she didn't want to have to explain why she wanted the information. So, have you talked to Allison about how to do this?"

"No, not really," I said. "I don't think there's much to discuss. I'm not planning to tell her the truth about me or what's really going on; I just want to talk to her about Henslith."

"Are you sure that's enough?" she asked. "What if she trips over another alarm somewhere and lands in Atkins' office again? You want her telling Atkins that it's all tied to you? Someone knows way too much about David Malcolm already; we don't need the attention. I think we should do to her what we should have done – probably would have done – with Rod if we had known it was possible at the time."

"Like Christine?"

"Yes, only we wouldn't let her know the truth about you, just use the dream version to consult on important stuff. This time we do it right."

I knew what she meant about doing it right. Because of our conversation regarding what we did – or thought we had done – with Christine, and then making 'David', we had realized that what we had done with Christine shouldn't have – couldn't have – been that easy. We'd had help.

"You think it would be the same if Rod didn't know the truth?"

"Publicly? Hell yes!" she said emphatically. "Whether the dream version knows or not would be irrelevant because you could dissolve it any time. We wouldn't be in hiding now if we'd been able to keep it all in dreams before. I think he and Rebecca would both be better off not knowing. The difference is that Rebecca actually wishes she didn't know – especially after Henslith mind-fucked her the way she did."

"I don't know if I'd really call it that," I said.

"Call it whatever you want," she said. "Henslith got the information from her; that's all that matters. If it had been buried in a dream version, she wouldn't have been able to get to it. There's nothing we can do about that, but we can keep it from happening again. You managed to protect Rebecca from Atkins, but that was a one-poke test. Do you really think you could have protected her if they knew the information was there and really wanted it?"

She had a point.

"I'll talk to Allison about it."

"I know how much you hate the women always being right..." Allison began.

"But she is," I said, finishing for her. "Allison, I'm really not comfortable doing something like this with Nicki – or anyone else for that matter – without them knowing and having a choice."

"I know," she said. "It's exactly the kind of abuse you've been afraid of; it's the reason you worry about people like the government finding out about you, but what's the alternative?"

"I don't really have one," I admitted, "but I don't want to just use her to cover my ass, either."

"What?" she asked. "Jimmy, where on earth did you get that from? That is nothing like what you're doing. I can't believe you even ... That is so not what is going on here. Jimmy, lives – a lot of lives – are depending on you."

I started to argue, but she held up a hand to stop me as she went on.

"I had a feeling this might come up," she said.

Suddenly I got it.

"And you have an alternative?"

"Maybe," she said. "It's not much of an improvement really, but I think it solves both problems..."

Special Agent in Charge Dominique Spencer was reviewing a case file when her intercom beeped.

"What is it Barbara?"

"Your two o'clock is here, Mrs. Spencer; they're on their way up."

"My what?" Spencer asked. "Barbara, I don't have a two o'clock; who is it?"

Before Barbara could answer, Spencer's door opened, and man she'd never met entered. He was about six foot one, medium build but obviously in good shape, with blondish brown hair and eyes somewhere between blue and gray, dressed in a gray suit with a matching tie. The cut of the suit didn't rule out the possibility that he was armed, but if he was, it certainly wasn't in a shoulder holster.

Before she could even demand who the hell he was, he began speaking.

"Forgive the intrusion, Mrs. Spencer, but I needed to speak to you on a matter of some urgency. I believe you know Special Agent in Charge Samuel Rodriguez, from Los Angeles? And this ... is Special Agent Rebecca Hampton." Rod and Rebecca entered as he spoke their names, taking up position next to him and waiting as he closed the door.

Spencer stood and extended her hand, "Rod, good to see you again ... A pleasure to meet you, Agent Hampton; I've heard good things. How is your sister?"

"Getting better every day," Rebecca answered.

Then Spencer turned to me. "And you are?"

"Trust me," Rebecca said. "You're better off not knowing."

"We can't be sure of that Bex," Rod said before stepping forward and shaking Spencer's hand. "That's one of the things we're here to discuss, Dominique, whether or not you want to know the truth. A lot of this is going to sound very strange, but if you'll bear with us, most – if not all – of your questions will be answered. Then you can decide if you really want to know who he is."