Evil Dreams (28 page)

Leaping from his seat without a sound, Howie hurried to her side, trying to hear the psychiatrist’s voice.

“No, he hasn’t, Doctor.”

Again, he strained to hear.

“I see, Doctor. Yes, I will. Bye, bye, Doctor.”

“What the hell was that all about?” he asked anxiously.

“S’funny. He was inquiring if Mr. Ward or his wife had called in.”

Running his hand through his straggly hair, he quickly paced around the room. “Why? Why would Dayton want to know if Ward had called? Is that normal for him to call on his day off and ask if a patient has called him for something?” he asked.

Shaking her head, she watched him. “Not really. It might be he arranged for Mr. Ward to call.”

“Maybe,” he said, his voice trailing off. “Try Ward again. The sonofabitch can’t stay away I rom home forever. What are you supposed to do if he does call in?”

“Notify Doctor Dayton’s answering service. He didn’t say where he was and probably doesn’t want to be disturbed. He said he’d check every now and then with his service.” She dialed the number again from memory, waiting while the phone rang on the opposite end. “Nothing,” she said, fearful the one word would anger him.

Instead of becoming upset, he leaned on the desk to look at the digital clock. “That was an extra one we threw in for the fun of it. I think you’d better start calling every half hour. We gotta get him to come down here this afternoon. Without the shrink here, it’ll be easy.”

She stared at him dumbly.
What
would be easy?

The call at two o’clock echoed the day’s efforts but when Tory called at two-thirty, Jon answered, and she panicked. Accustomed to hearing the ring without anything happening, she nervously sat up when it stopped and he said, “Hello?”

Clamping her hand over the mouthpiece, she squeaked hoarsely, “It’s him. He answered. He’s home. What do I do?”

“Tell him to get down here right away. Tell him the doctor has discovered something important. About his dream. Go ahead,” Howie ordered sharply.

“Ah, Mr. Ward? This is Doctor Dayton’s secretary, Tory Worthington. Doctor asked me to call and see if you could come to the office this afternoon.”

“What’s up?” he asked excitedly.

“It seems he’s found something concerning your dream or—something. He said it was most important for you to come in this afternoon.

What time should I tell Doctor you’ll arrive?”

“If it’s that important, I guess I could be down there within the hour. Is that all right?”

“Just a minute, Mr. Ward,” she said, placing her hand over the mouthpiece again. “He says he can be here within the hour. Is that all right, Howie?”

He nodded vigorously.

“That’ll be fine, Mr. Ward. We’ll see you then. Bye, bye.” She laid the phone in its cradle, smiling triumphantly. “Now will you please tell me what you’ve got planned?”

“Not yet. Let him get down here first,” he said, knowing she might refuse to help further if she were cognizant of his entire plan. “After he gets here, I’ll fill you in. All right?”

“Okay,” she said, pouting.

The minutes crept by, each one seeming to take longer than its predecessor. At three-fifteen, the door to the outer office opened. Jon walked in, striding briskly.

“You may go right in, Mr. Ward,” she said shakily, betraying her fear.

If Jon noticed any tremor in the secretary’s voice, he ignored it. Finally, he would find out something concerning his dream. Entering the plush office, he didn’t see Sam in his usual chair.

The coarse voice behind him sounded frightened, almost choking when it said,
“Blue trees!”

Jon stopped walking, frozen in position as he went into a hypnotic state.

PART FOUR

CISTERN, NEW MEXICO

June 6, 1979

CHAPTER 15

Excited because of the results of his attempts to place Jon in a trance, Howie rubbed his hands together. Not once had he considered the possibility that his efforts at hypnosis might fail. Nor had he reflected on the consequences had his plan not succeeded. He had Jon Ward in his power. Consequently, he held Adolf Hitler in his control and if his theory and conjecture proved correct, Howie would gain knowledge of a hidden cache of gold. He laughed aloud.

Easing the door open, Tory peeked into the room hesitantly. “Is everything all right, Mowie?” she whispered hoarsely.

“Fine! Come on in and take a look at what ol‘ Howie’s done.”

White-faced, she timidly entered the office. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked, pointing toward Jon who stood stiffly in the middle of the room, a blank expression in his normally animated features, his eyes staring vacuously.

“I’ve hypnotized him,” he gloated.

“You’ve what?”

“I put him in a trance just like the shrink does.”

“How? How did you do it?” Her voice trembled when she spoke. What if Doctor were to suddenly come in? She knew it wasn’t likely but the possibility existed. An overwhelming urge to urinate swept through her lower body. In what sort of plot had Howie entangled her?

“Just like Dayton does. I read it in those files you brought home. If this turkey hears the words
blue trees,
he goes under. I figured he’d be easier to control if he were hypnotized.”

“Control? Howie, you gotta tell me right now what you’re doing or I’ll leave. I think you’re getting into something that’s way over your head. Something that’s going to get us both in a whole lot of trouble,” she said, her voice firm, the tone of which surprised even her.

“You’re in so deep right now, you could run all you wanted and you’d still end up in hot water.” He strutted to the other side of the room to sit on the edge of Sam’s desk. “Ain’t nothing here I can’t handle. What do you want to know?” He folded his arms, demandingly staring at her.

“Everything. I want to know everything you’re planning to do or I won’t help you anymore.”

“Okay.” He leaned back on the desk with both hands, his left one accidentally depressing the button that activated the concealed tape recorder. “First, I just want to say it’s too goddamn bad your boss with all his fucking education can’t figure out what’s wrong with this jerk, here.” His head motioned toward Jon, laughing arrogantly.

“What do you mean, Howie?”

“I know what’s wrong with him. Ward’s got the ghost of Hitler locked up inside of him somehow. The spook wants to control him to claim a treasure in gold.”

“Gold? How do—? Where is the—?” She blustered partial questions, vainly trying to comprehend.

“It’s easy if you know all the answers. Apparently the shrink doesn’t—and I do. That’s why I’m smarter than he is right now.”

“I haven’t got the slightest idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay. Shut up and listen. When I was a kid, there was lots of talk about some Nazis burying a hoard of gold somewhere around the Four Corners area.”

“Four Corners?” she asked quietly, afraid to voice questions but seething with curiosity at the same time.

“Where New Mexico, Colorado, Utah and Arizona come together. It’s the only place in the country where four states form right angles with their boundaries.”

She vaguely nodded, not quite certain if she understood.

“At any rate, the story was that a plane or planes loaded with gold, flew into the area and a treasure was buried. Why? I suppose maybe to be a cushion to fall back on if Hitler had to leave Europe in a hurry. At least, that’s what I remember hearing. Anyway, a lot of people spent a lot of time looking for some sign where it could be buried. As far as I know, nothing was ever found. At least if it was, nothing was said. I guess I wouldn’t say anything about it if I found it, and now it looks as though I have. Any way you cut it, Mr. Ward here, is going to show me where to find all this Nazi gold.”

“How do you know, Howie? There wasn’t any mention of gold in any of the transcripts I typed.”

“There was, and there wasn’t. The coordinates given when this clown talked German, are the coordinates for Four Corners—right on the money. He said something about being able to control his host—this guy standing here like a dummy—and claiming what is rightfully his. Well, the gold ain’t at Four Corners at all. It’s sixty kilometers south and sixty east of Four Corners. I looked it up carefully on several maps and it should be right around Cistern, a ghost town. All I gotta do is find a landmark shaped like a swastika.”

“What about that funny word—ah, zoz-some-thing or other?.” she asked excitedly, her pulse pounding at the thought of becoming wealthy.

“Zozobra? Old Man Gloom?
It’s my guess the Germans made a study of the area and found out about the fiesta at Santa Fe and how it draws people from all over. They probably figured the best time to fly the gold in would be during the fiesta. They wouldn’t have as many people around to hear the plane motor or see them digging.”

“So what are we gonna do? How are we going to get the gold if it’s out of the country in New Mexico and we’re here in Chicago?”

“Christ, you’re stupid! First of all, New Mexico is in this country, not out of it. And we’re going to go there.”

“Go there? When? How?”

“As soon as possible. Like today.”

“Today? How? Has Mr. Tilden come through with some money?”

“Naw! That’s chicken feed compared to what we got waiting for us in New Mexico.”

“How are we going to get there, then?”

Turning to Jon, he said, “Give me your billfold, Jon.”

Jon reached to his hip pocket without flinching and pulled his wallet out, handing it to him.

“See?” he said, taking the preferred pocket-book. After opening it, he snarled at the thin stack of bills. “Sixty-two bucks? Is that all?” Suddenly, he found himself wishing that his blackmail victim had come through with the ten thousand. At least he would be able to finance his new venture without concern for funds. Fumbling with the billfold, he opened the card file and yelped. “Here we go! American Express and Diner’s Club charge cards. We got it made, Tory!”

“Do you think this is right? Trying to get money from people like Mr. Tilden was one thing but kidnapping somebody—?”

“Who said anything about kidnapping?”

“Didn’t you say Mr. Ward was going to show us where it was hidden?”

“Yeah. I did. But that ain’t kidnapping in the general sense. We haven’t abducted him, you know, knocked him out and taken him by force, or tied him up and gagged him. We haven’t demanded ransom from his old lady. Let’s just say he’s going on a business trip with us and he’ll be free to leave when we’re finished conducting our little transaction.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. To her, it sounded as though they were going to kidnap Jon but Howie knew more about these things than she did. And, because she wanted to be included in his future, Tory decided against questioning his plan any further.

“You’d better call O’Hare and find out about flights to Albuquerque. See how much two tickets will cost.”

“Howie Liemen!” Tory
shouted, stamping her feet. “You’d better be taking me along or I’m going to make you sorry.”

“Huh? What’d I say? Oh. Make it three and tell them they’re going to be charged.” He smiled broadly, completely self satisfied, and called after Tory who was almost out of the room. “Better call Hertz and have them get a car ready for us at the other end. Make it a big one! Once we get down there, I want to be able to move fast. Got it?”

“I got it, Howie, honey!” she said cheerfully, hurrying to her desk.

Twenty minutes later, she reentered the office to find him sitting behind Sam’s desk, his back to the room, staring out the window. “We’re on TWA flight 449.”

“What time do we leave?” he asked without turning.

“Five-fifty this afternoon. We get there at 7:44, local time.”

He leaped from Sam’s chair, moving around the desk to the middle of the room. “Come on. We gotta get going. The plane leaves in a little over two hours. It’s ten to four already.”

“Wait a minute, Howie. I want to know if we’re going to get married once we get all this money?”

“What?” he shouted. “Look, you dumb fucking cunt, we gotta go now if we’re going to get out there tonight. We’ll talk about that some other time. Okay?”

“I’m just trying to be practical where my rights are concerned. I wouldn’t want to help you get all that money and then have you dump—”

“Come on,” he growled, turning to Jon who rigidly stood in the center of the room. “Come with me, Mr. Ward.” He spoke softly to avoid waking him.

“You talk nice to him. Why can’t you talk that way to me?”

“Because him I don’t want to wake up. You? I wish you’d go to sleep.”

“Howie!” How could he be so nasty? Especially now, just when they were going to be able to retire with loads of money?

“I’m only kidding. Come on, for the last time.”

“What if he wakes up? What then?”

“I’ll just say the magic words again and,
poof!
—he goes to sleep.”

Moving to the door, he turned to address Jon again. “Come on, Mr. Ward. We’re going for a nice airplane ride.”

Jon turned mechanically, following Howie to the outer room. Tory lingered for a moment before turning the lights off, then left Sam’s private office.

Behind the louvered doors, the tape recorder quietly continued running.

While they waited for the elevator, Howie whispered, “Just act normal, Mr. Ward. Keep your eyes open and do what I say.”

“All right,” Jon said flatly.

The doors opened and in minutes they were standing on the street in the light rain, watching for a cab. When one swooped to the curb, momentarily clearing the gutter of water, Howie threw open the door. He ordered Jon to get in after Tory, placing the hypnotized man between the conspirators.

“Where you going?” the cab driver asked from the front seat without turning.

“O’Hare!” Howie said, settling back for the long ride to the terminal.

Glancing about, Tory found Jon staring passively ahead. She shivered, leaning back once the taxi sped onto the Northwest tollway.

Looking at the hands of her watch through more tears, Millicent Tilden could not read them until she blinked, sending a fresh torrent down her cheeks. Her eyes cleared momentarily and she could make out the time. Four o’clock. God! Why had she gotten out of bed? She had felt safe there. Her hands perspiring, she shifted the phone from her left to the right hand.