Abel Baker Charley (18 page)
“Do not fear him, Jared. Abel is your friend. He did only what Jared Baker would have wished to do but for the con
straints of his upbringing.”
straints of his upbringing.”
“And you chose me because you knew? You knew that
Abel, and I suppose Charley, are both in here someplace?”
Abel, and I suppose Charley, are both in here someplace?”
“They are there in everyone. Anyone can do what I did
with those photographs. It works with any face at all. What
makes you unique is that your Abel has come out. He
is
therefore close at hand. Yes, I knew. That is why I sent Ben
Meister to you. I would have gone to any length, Jared, to
keep you from harm. I confess that I do not regret your
fugitive status. The murder of Judge Bellafonte was a
blessing to me in that it narrowed your options. On that
matter, by the way, I'll attend to the housekeeping later.
For now, though, it remained only for me to determine whether you were a half-decent subject for hypnotic re
gression. If it developed that you were not, I would have
had you painting houses in Wichita or some such place and
sending me a monthly fee for maintaining you in your
fugitive identity.”
with those photographs. It works with any face at all. What
makes you unique is that your Abel has come out. He
is
therefore close at hand. Yes, I knew. That is why I sent Ben
Meister to you. I would have gone to any length, Jared, to
keep you from harm. I confess that I do not regret your
fugitive status. The murder of Judge Bellafonte was a
blessing to me in that it narrowed your options. On that
matter, by the way, I'll attend to the housekeeping later.
For now, though, it remained only for me to determine whether you were a half-decent subject for hypnotic re
gression. If it developed that you were not, I would have
had you painting houses in Wichita or some such place and
sending me a monthly fee for maintaining you in your
fugitive identity.”
“You said ‘hypnotic regression,’ ” Baker said slowly. “Doesn't that mean going backward into other lives?”
“Did I say regression?” Sonnenberg blinked twice. ”I meant suggestion, of course.”
Baker didn't believe him. He knew that Sonnenberg was
holding something back. It had to do with . . . painting?
Being a house painter in Wichita? What was that he'd prom
ised during the first day? “You said I could paint. That I could be an artist”
holding something back. It had to do with . . . painting?
Being a house painter in Wichita? What was that he'd prom
ised during the first day? “You said I could paint. That I could be an artist”
Sonnenberg drew in a long breath. “I'm becoming very
impressed with you, Jared Baker.”
impressed with you, Jared Baker.”
“Was that what you were thinking?”
”I was rather saving it until later. Not to muddy the water, you understand.”
“How could I be a painter?” he asked. “Regression is part
of it?”
of it?”
Sonnenberg threw his arms wide in a gesture of frank
ness. “Regression, I'll tell you, is almost all of it. The tech
nique, incidentally, has developed well beyond the random popping up of Bridey Murphy types from past lives. Quite
exciting things are being done, pioneered particularly by the
Russians. For example, Jared Baker the artist of modest abil
ity might be regressed under hypnosis to another life in
which it is suggested that he was van Gogh or Degas or
Delacroix. Under deep hypnosis, you would be one of those
men. You would recall much that you've ever known about
the period in which they lived. Your imagination would pro
vide much more. You would then be brought forward to ap
proximately your normal conscious state, although you'd be
left in a light trance, which would be no impediment what
soever. Within that light trance, you would never con
sciously believe that you were actually Edgar Degas, for ex
ample, but you would develop a very strong psychological affinity for his techniques, his tastes, and for those aspects
of his personality you find attractive. The result would be a
much faster development of your own ability. Or study med
icine or architecture or Keynesian economics, even if you've had no aptitude whatever for those subjects in the past.”
ness. “Regression, I'll tell you, is almost all of it. The tech
nique, incidentally, has developed well beyond the random popping up of Bridey Murphy types from past lives. Quite
exciting things are being done, pioneered particularly by the
Russians. For example, Jared Baker the artist of modest abil
ity might be regressed under hypnosis to another life in
which it is suggested that he was van Gogh or Degas or
Delacroix. Under deep hypnosis, you would be one of those
men. You would recall much that you've ever known about
the period in which they lived. Your imagination would pro
vide much more. You would then be brought forward to ap
proximately your normal conscious state, although you'd be
left in a light trance, which would be no impediment what
soever. Within that light trance, you would never con
sciously believe that you were actually Edgar Degas, for ex
ample, but you would develop a very strong psychological affinity for his techniques, his tastes, and for those aspects
of his personality you find attractive. The result would be a
much faster development of your own ability. Or study med
icine or architecture or Keynesian economics, even if you've had no aptitude whatever for those subjects in the past.”
“Or law?”
Sonnenberg smiled. “Benjamin Meister is a legitimate at
torney. Among other things. But yes, even law. The tech
nique is well established and, yes, I've used it myself. It's a
dandy.”
torney. Among other things. But yes, even law. The tech
nique is well established and, yes, I've used it myself. It's a
dandy.”
“Not theoretical?”
“No.”
“How theoretical is this multiple personality business?”
“Hillman out at Cal Tech has dipped a toe into it. He was
the first to discover an independent consciousness in an oth
erwise entranced subject. I'm not sure he knows what he's
got.”
the first to discover an independent consciousness in an oth
erwise entranced subject. I'm not sure he knows what he's
got.”
“Or he's afraid of it.”
“He's never found a Jared Baker.”
Baker slowly returned the smile. His expression showed
that the hook was taken. Not deeply. Not irrevocably. The
barb still hadn't entered flesh. But the hook was in and more
line would be played out. The business about Degas and the
rest seemed to have helped after all.
that the hook was taken. Not deeply. Not irrevocably. The
barb still hadn't entered flesh. But the hook was in and more
line would be played out. The business about Degas and the
rest seemed to have helped after all.
“One step at a time, Dr. Sonnenberg?”
“One step at a time. Jared Abel Baker Charley.”
8
It was a month later in a different place.
Connor Harrigan had not yet heard the name of Jared
Baker. Or that of Marcus Sonnenberg. His mind then was on
black thoughts of Duncan Peck and on what he would do if Peck insisted on running one more goddamned yard.
Baker. Or that of Marcus Sonnenberg. His mind then was on
black thoughts of Duncan Peck and on what he would do if Peck insisted on running one more goddamned yard.
The older man was smirking. He gave Harrigan an en
couraging slap on the rump and pointed to the Rochambeau
Bridge, still two miles distant. Harrigan's eyes widened in
outraged disbelief.
couraging slap on the rump and pointed to the Rochambeau
Bridge, still two miles distant. Harrigan's eyes widened in
outraged disbelief.
“What are you? Crazy?” he gasped, but kept on. He
swept his arms wide to take in the several dozen runners
who cruised without effort along the paths of East Potomac Park. “All you people are crazy,” he wheezed. “Lunchtime. The only one you get all day and half the government is out
here running their asses of.”
swept his arms wide to take in the several dozen runners
who cruised without effort along the paths of East Potomac Park. “All you people are crazy,” he wheezed. “Lunchtime. The only one you get all day and half the government is out
here running their asses of.”
Duncan Peck waved him forward but said nothing, only
smiled his satisfaction. He was fifteen years older than Con
nor Harrigan and thirty pounds lighter. And it was a point of
pride with him that he could run five miles without once
parting his lips for air.
smiled his satisfaction. He was fifteen years older than Con
nor Harrigan and thirty pounds lighter. And it was a point of
pride with him that he could run five miles without once
parting his lips for air.
Harrigan answered with a digital gesture indicating non-
compliance. “Bullshit.” He spat, using the last of his air to
expel the word. He staggered to a halt, stepping off the hot
asphalt track that felt as if it were melting through his sneak
ers. Peck turned, jogging in place for several beats until it
became clear that Connor Harrigan would run no more ex
cept at gunpoint. Harrigan collapsed on the grass under the shade of a Japanese cherry tree.
compliance. “Bullshit.” He spat, using the last of his air to
expel the word. He staggered to a halt, stepping off the hot
asphalt track that felt as if it were melting through his sneak
ers. Peck turned, jogging in place for several beats until it
became clear that Connor Harrigan would run no more ex
cept at gunpoint. Harrigan collapsed on the grass under the shade of a Japanese cherry tree.
“You know who you look like right now?” Peck asked.
“You look just like Tony Galento after Joe Louis clubbed
him into a sitting position. Have you ever seen that photo
graph? Galento, leaning on one arm, his great belly heaving,
his face spent and beaten ...”
“You look just like Tony Galento after Joe Louis clubbed
him into a sitting position. Have you ever seen that photo
graph? Galento, leaning on one arm, his great belly heaving,
his face spent and beaten ...”
Harrigan looked up through eyes hooded with fatigue and
malice. He didn't bother to reply.
malice. He didn't bother to reply.
“Look at me,” Peck boasted, standing over him. “Not even out of breath. You can get yourself into this sort of
shape, you know. All you have to do is work at it.”
shape, you know. All you have to do is work at it.”
Harrigan spat again. “You think I didn't work to get like
I am?” He grabbed the four inches of flesh that hung over
the cord of his borrowed sweatpants. “There's a bloody for
tune in Roquefort and martinis there. Be respectful.”
I am?” He grabbed the four inches of flesh that hung over
the cord of his borrowed sweatpants. “There's a bloody for
tune in Roquefort and martinis there. Be respectful.”
Peck rolled his eyes in despair. “You were almost there,”
he told Harrigan. “You were right on the edge of getting your second wind. You would have felt a certain rush of
pride and strength . . ”
he told Harrigan. “You were right on the edge of getting your second wind. You would have felt a certain rush of
pride and strength . . ”
“What I was about to do was die. Not that you'd give a
shit because you could still jog alongside the ambulance.
And I'd never find out why you have me out here playing
chicken with a coronary.”
shit because you could still jog alongside the ambulance.
And I'd never find out why you have me out here playing
chicken with a coronary.”
Peck feigned wounded innocence. “Why must there be a
reason for two friends to ...”
reason for two friends to ...”
Harrigan curled his mouth and raised one eyebrow.
Peck had to smile. Two more joggers ran by. Connor Har
rigan looked past Duncan Peck's legs at all the other run
ners, noting the number of men and a few women who
were running in pairs. Or in groups of three. And the num
ber of conversations that seemed to be going on through
lips that were kept close together and from faces that did
not turn sideways. But the faces were animated. It was pos
sible to know the intensity of a discussion even at a dis
tance.
Peck had to smile. Two more joggers ran by. Connor Har
rigan looked past Duncan Peck's legs at all the other run
ners, noting the number of men and a few women who
were running in pairs. Or in groups of three. And the num
ber of conversations that seemed to be going on through
lips that were kept close together and from faces that did
not turn sideways. But the faces were animated. It was pos
sible to know the intensity of a discussion even at a dis
tance.
”I can remember when people used to get a sandwich and
a beer at lunchtime,” he observed. “Or if they had to talk
quiet, they'd take a walk or sit in a parked car. These days
they go jogging. How many of these guys do you figure are
meeting off the record right now?”
a beer at lunchtime,” he observed. “Or if they had to talk
quiet, they'd take a walk or sit in a parked car. These days
they go jogging. How many of these guys do you figure are
meeting off the record right now?”
”A few, I suppose. But they're not conspiratorial meet
ings, necessarily. It's healthy and it's private, that's all.”
ings, necessarily. It's healthy and it's private, that's all.”
“Plus which, a jogging track is a bitch to eavesdrop. But of course that never occurred to you.”
“Ah, Harrigan,” Peck sighed, affecting a weary sadness, “would that I could refresh your cynical soul.”
‘‘Right!” One lip curled up. “When do I find out what's on your mind?”
“Walk with me.”
“What for? You think the cherry tree's wired?”
“An individual will come running by here in a few min
utes. He's like clockwork. He'll be wearing a Notre Dame
jersey with its sleeves cut off. I want you to take a good look
at him.”
utes. He's like clockwork. He'll be wearing a Notre Dame
jersey with its sleeves cut off. I want you to take a good look
at him.”
Duncan Peck offered a hand to the reluctant Connor Har
rigan and pulled him to his feet. Peck moved closer. Reach
ing into a zippered pocket of his windbreaker, he drew out a
plastic envelope containing several papers along with a sup
ply of blister pads and ammonia capsules. It amused Harri
gan that Peck tried to conceal the latter with his hand. Peck
avoided his eyes as he handed him a small color photograph
of a man in uniform.
rigan and pulled him to his feet. Peck moved closer. Reach
ing into a zippered pocket of his windbreaker, he drew out a
plastic envelope containing several papers along with a sup
ply of blister pads and ammonia capsules. It amused Harri
gan that Peck tried to conceal the latter with his hand. Peck
avoided his eyes as he handed him a small color photograph
of a man in uniform.
“You're looking at Captain William Berner. West Point,
1965. Two Vietnam tours between 1966 and 1973. Some
combat. Mostly Special Operations. His fitness report men
tions that he's exceptionally discreet. Do you know what
that means?”
1965. Two Vietnam tours between 1966 and 1973. Some
combat. Mostly Special Operations. His fitness report men
tions that he's exceptionally discreet. Do you know what
that means?”
“Yeah. He kills people when the army tells him to and he never brings it up again.”
“Very good. Over the next three years he sat around hop
ing for a nice new war. None came, and Berner resigned his
commission. On the day his separation came through, he
drove out of Fort Ord and went straightaway to a VA hospi
tal in San Diego, where he slipped a cyanide pill to a ser
geant named Dengler. Dengler had been Berner's driver
until he got his arms and part of his face blown off. Den-
gler's wife, who visited him rarely, finally filed for divorce,
citing irreconcilable differences. It seems he never hugged her anymore. Dengler, as you might imagine, was despon
dent and had to be held under restraint to keep him from
ending his own life. In any event, Berner killed Dengler, no
d
oubt at Dengler's request, and then drove to Reno, where
he killed Dengler's wife, no doubt against her wishes. The
killings were in all the West Coast and hometown papers.
Berner vanished.”
ing for a nice new war. None came, and Berner resigned his
commission. On the day his separation came through, he
drove out of Fort Ord and went straightaway to a VA hospi
tal in San Diego, where he slipped a cyanide pill to a ser
geant named Dengler. Dengler had been Berner's driver
until he got his arms and part of his face blown off. Den-
gler's wife, who visited him rarely, finally filed for divorce,
citing irreconcilable differences. It seems he never hugged her anymore. Dengler, as you might imagine, was despon
dent and had to be held under restraint to keep him from
ending his own life. In any event, Berner killed Dengler, no
d
oubt at Dengler's request, and then drove to Reno, where
he killed Dengler's wife, no doubt against her wishes. The
killings were in all the West Coast and hometown papers.
Berner vanished.”
Peck took the photograph from Harrigan and returned it
to the plastic envelope. He was zipping his pocket shut
when, without warning, Harrigan lurched and stumbled
against him, clutching his chest. Harrigan sucked air
grotesquely as rising blood enflamed his face and pounded
at his temples.
to the plastic envelope. He was zipping his pocket shut
when, without warning, Harrigan lurched and stumbled
against him, clutching his chest. Harrigan sucked air
grotesquely as rising blood enflamed his face and pounded
at his temples.
“Connor?” Duncan Peck shouted. “Connor, what's hap
pening?”
pening?”
Harrigan shook his head but appeared unable to speak.
“Here,” another voice said. “Get him on the grass.” It was
a heavily mustached man in his late thirties. His hair, drip
ping sweat, was almost the color of copper. And he wore a
Notre Dame jersey with the sleeves cut off.
a heavily mustached man in his late thirties. His hair, drip
ping sweat, was almost the color of copper. And he wore a
Notre Dame jersey with the sleeves cut off.
“It's okay ...” Harrigan protested. “It's all right.”
Notre Dame eased him to a sitting position and placed his
fingers lightly against Harrigan's throat. “Pulse is quieting down,” he said. “Are you in pain anywhere?”
fingers lightly against Harrigan's throat. “Pulse is quieting down,” he said. “Are you in pain anywhere?”
“No
...
no. Everything just went bright for a second and
I got dizzy is all. I'm okay. I'm just embarrassed as hell.”
...
no. Everything just went bright for a second and
I got dizzy is all. I'm okay. I'm just embarrassed as hell.”
“You're not okay,” Peck answered angrily. “Do you know
what those symptoms are? They're warning signs of a
stroke. You can't keep yourself in such rotten shape and .. ”
what those symptoms are? They're warning signs of a
stroke. You can't keep yourself in such rotten shape and .. ”
“Your friend's right.” Notre Dame's voice was gentler.
“Running is something you have to ease into. And you
really should see a doctor.”
“Running is something you have to ease into. And you
really should see a doctor.”
Harrigan was breathing normally, and the redness of his face had drained away. “This afternoon,” he said, looking at
Notre Dame. “I'll get a checkup this afternoon.”
Notre Dame. “I'll get a checkup this afternoon.”
Notre Dame smiled and tapped him on the shoulder as
he rose to his feet. “Just start slow, okay? If you work at it,
you can be passing me by next summer.” Notre Dame
waved and glided into an easy lope toward the Jefferson
Memorial.
he rose to his feet. “Just start slow, okay? If you work at it,
you can be passing me by next summer.” Notre Dame
waved and glided into an easy lope toward the Jefferson
Memorial.
Duncan Peck watched him go, then turned and looked
into Harrigan's eyes.
into Harrigan's eyes.
“Are you able to walk, Connor? Perhaps I should call for
a ride.”
a ride.”
“Will you stop? I'm fine.” There was now no sign of his
recent distress.
recent distress.
“But you're .. ”
“Listen. You wanted me to look close at Notre Dame? I
looked close at Notre Dame.”
looked close at Notre Dame.”
“You . . . ? You son of a bitch. That was an act?” Now Peck reddened as he shoved abruptly to his feet.
“You're sputtering.” Harrigan clucked. “And you're get
ting all flushed. Those are warning signs that you're getting
all pissed off and you're going to have a worse stroke than I
did.”
ting all flushed. Those are warning signs that you're getting
all pissed off and you're going to have a worse stroke than I
did.”
“Well, it's just lovely that you got a good look at him.” Peck's voice was dripping. “But our friend also had a very nice look at you.”
“And I'll tell you something else,” Harrigan said, ignor
ing the last. “He's as big a pain in the ass as you are. Did you hear all that about how terrific running would be if I work at
it? You guys all sound like you read one book in your whole
life and that was The Complete Book of Running. In a few
days, I might decide to be out here again doing this shit. And
your Captain Berner there is going to be pulling up along
side me asking me what the doctor said, telling me what he
forgot to say, and then he's going to tell me where to buy the
right kind of shoes.”
ing the last. “He's as big a pain in the ass as you are. Did you hear all that about how terrific running would be if I work at
it? You guys all sound like you read one book in your whole
life and that was The Complete Book of Running. In a few
days, I might decide to be out here again doing this shit. And
your Captain Berner there is going to be pulling up along
side me asking me what the doctor said, telling me what he
forgot to say, and then he's going to tell me where to buy the
right kind of shoes.”
Peck stared at him, appraisingly at first, then trying not to
smile. “That was very neatly done, Connor.”
smile. “That was very neatly done, Connor.”
”I work at it.”
“You're satisfied that was Berner?”
“Under the sweaty mustache? No question. His hair is
that color because he went swimming in chlorinated water
too soon after dying it. He's got an old scar high on his
cheek that's not old and it's not a scar. Someone tattooed it
on using bleach. He's wearing colored contact lenses and his face is shorter, probably from dental work, to give him more
of an ove
r
bite and a new profile.”
that color because he went swimming in chlorinated water
too soon after dying it. He's got an old scar high on his
cheek that's not old and it's not a scar. Someone tattooed it
on using bleach. He's wearing colored contact lenses and his face is shorter, probably from dental work, to give him more
of an ove
r
bite and a new profile.”
“Connor,” said Peck, applauding on his fingertips, “you
really are quite extraordinary.”
really are quite extraordinary.”
“
I'm a treasure. What name's he using now and who
turned him into Notre Dame? I assume he's got all new
paper.”
I'm a treasure. What name's he using now and who
turned him into Notre Dame? I assume he's got all new
paper.”
“It gets a lot more interesting than fake documents. His
name, these days, is Roger Hershey. He works for the Smith
sonian as an archivist in the anthropology section. Been
there two years. Before that, he was a field archaeologist for
six years, mostly in Mexico and the Southwest. His spe
cialty is the pre-Columbian era. Graduated from Notre Dame
in 1965. Master's from Arizona State, and he's working
toward a doctorate between field trips. Never been in the
service.”
name, these days, is Roger Hershey. He works for the Smith
sonian as an archivist in the anthropology section. Been
there two years. Before that, he was a field archaeologist for
six years, mostly in Mexico and the Southwest. His spe
cialty is the pre-Columbian era. Graduated from Notre Dame
in 1965. Master's from Arizona State, and he's working
toward a doctorate between field trips. Never been in the
service.”
“That's good paper. Someone went to a lot of trouble.”
“You have no idea.” Duncan Peck paused and scanned the area in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree sweep, then
beckoned Harrigan to walk with him.
beckoned Harrigan to walk with him.
“About four months ago, Berner was spotted. Right here
on this track. He was seen by a major who was in town on
temporary duty with the Joint Chiefs.” Peck pointed across
the river toward the distant tan mass of the Pentagon.
on this track. He was seen by a major who was in town on
temporary duty with the Joint Chiefs.” Peck pointed across
the river toward the distant tan mass of the Pentagon.
“This major,” Peck continued, “was sure that Berner was
Berner until he talked with him for a while. Then he realized
that the two men, Berner and Hershey, were about as differ
ent as a lion and a lamb. Berner, for example, was always
rather stiff. A loner. He had a few fierce loyalties, viz.
Sergeant Dengler, but few if any friends and almost no out
side interests. He wasn't what you'd consider rousing com
pany. Hershey, on the other hand, is cultured, friendly,
soft-spoken, kind, as you've seen, and an enthusiastic hob
byist whose interests range from fishing to carpentry, to say
nothing of pre-Columbian art. This is all one man, Connor.
One man with two entirely different personalities. More re
markable, Hershey has a depth of knowledge in a number of
fields that Berner cared nothing about only thirty months
ago. That's roughly when he disappeared.”
Berner until he talked with him for a while. Then he realized
that the two men, Berner and Hershey, were about as differ
ent as a lion and a lamb. Berner, for example, was always
rather stiff. A loner. He had a few fierce loyalties, viz.
Sergeant Dengler, but few if any friends and almost no out
side interests. He wasn't what you'd consider rousing com
pany. Hershey, on the other hand, is cultured, friendly,
soft-spoken, kind, as you've seen, and an enthusiastic hob
byist whose interests range from fishing to carpentry, to say
nothing of pre-Columbian art. This is all one man, Connor.
One man with two entirely different personalities. More re
markable, Hershey has a depth of knowledge in a number of
fields that Berner cared nothing about only thirty months
ago. That's roughly when he disappeared.”
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