Forgotten Witness (31 page)

Finding himself a little wobbly, Bernard excused himself and went to the can. When he came back his face was ruddy as if he had scrubbed it hard.

“You solid, Bernard?” Johnson tossed the man’s jacket at him. Bernard caught it and put it on while Johnson talked and checked his gun.

“All set,” Bernard said.

“Okay. You’ve got everything you need in the office, right? Enough of that medicine?”

“Yes,” Bernard said.

“And you’re sure it’s the right amount?” Johnson pressed.

“I’m not a doctor, Johnson.” Bernard complained. Johnson shot him a look and Bernard backtracked. “Yes, I’m sure this will do it. And I’m sure you won’t need that. Just leave it here, Johnson.”

Johnson held up his gun, “No can do. I never go out without it. Besides, you want me to have your back, don’t you?”

Bernard didn’t point out that there was no one interested in his back at the moment. He also did not think now was the time to reiterate that he really, really, really was having second thoughts about this whole thing. Even if the powers that be came after him, there were ten valid arguments to be made for his ongoing deception. Protection of the program and Bernard’s superiors was not the least of them. Certainly that would not only be understandable but forgivable. Still, Johnson was a single-minded sort of fellow and a stickler for detail. He threw open the door. Bernard hesitated but finally went for it only to stop when he came abreast of Johnson.

“She’s not here,” Bernard said.

“Who?” Johnson asked.

“The night girl. Her car’s not here and it’s late.”

“The storm probably hung her up. All the better. Amelia will catch it all in the morning.”

“I can’t believe Amelia left and didn’t wait for her,” Bernard said.

“Well, since her car isn’t here either, I guess she cut out,” Johnson drawled. “Doesn’t matter anyway. There’s nothing to do at night.”

“But that wasn’t the plan,” Bernard complained.

“It doesn’t matter who finds them. It matters that they’re found. You report it and the operation is done. They’ll have this place cleared out before the fax is dry. They aren’t going to put anything else in here for a while so we can hang out. That’s the plan, Bernard. That’s what we agreed on.” Johnson gave the man a little shove.

“Okay. Okay.” Bernard pulled his jacket collar up.

Johnson took Bernard’s arm and together they ran across the yard, splashing through the mud, their pants wet almost to the knees. They went through the back door and Johnson stopped.

“Take your shoes off,” Johnson directed.

“What?”

“If anyone wants to check this out, then we can’t have mud all over the place. It’s got to look natural.”

Bernard thought that was the smartest thing Johnson had said all day; he also thought it was a bit frightening that Johnson was thinking ahead like that. Bernard removed his shoes and put them neatly by the desk in his office. Johnson did the same and then waited while Bernard opened the closet, turned on the overhead light, and took out a box.

“Is that it?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Johnson said.

Bernard hesitated, holding the box in front of him like a kid disappointed in a Christmas present. Johnson retraced his steps. Bernard looked at him. He opened his mouth but the look on Johnson’s face told him all he needed to know. The big man wanted this wrapped up and he wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

***

The night girl was upset and scared. She was more scared than she was upset because the road seemed to disappear and reappear with no particular rhyme or reason. Even though she knew she wasn’t near the cliffs, now and again she would throw the steering wheel one way or the other believing that she was just about to sail over the edge of one. She wondered where her friend was. Maybe she was already safe at Ha Kuna House. Or maybe she was smart and had stayed home all together.

The night girl sobbed. She sat in her car crying, her hands on the wheel, trying to decide if she should go forward or back. She decided to go forward since it was six of one and half a dozen of the other. She stepped on the gas. The mud was too deep, and her tires too old to gain traction.

“Oh God! Oh God!”

The night girl muttered and wept and wept and muttered as she stared into the Hawaiian darkness, cringed under the wrath of the Hawaiian storm, and wondered if she was going to die of fright.

Scientists in Edinburgh announced that they have completed a mind-meld.

Not exactly a Star Trek Vulcan move but they do confirm that they have

successfully connected the mind of a man and a mouse. The man was able to move the mouse’s tail just by thinking about it. How’s that for a dose of Sci-Fi?

– KFI talk radio

CHAPTER 23

It was almost midnight when Amelia threw off her blanket and swung her legs over the side of the couch. Palms down on the worn fabric, feet solidly on the floor, her chin rested on her chest, and her blond hair fell over her eyes. Those eyes of hers stared through the golden strands and into the darkness, pixilating everything in the room into fields of gray and sparkles of white. As it is with people who work in shadowy places, Amelia saw more than a normal human being would; as with those who work with the sick, she heard more than most people ever could; as with people who are often alone, Amelia could sense when things were amiss and something was amiss in Ha Kuna House.

Amelia stood up, listening again for the sound that had disturbed her uneasy sleep. It was not the old lady calling out. It was not Mr. Traini snoring. It was not Emily, agitated and wanting Amelia’s hand to hold. It was not the night girl and her friend giggling. It was not a crack of lightning although that’s what she thought it was at first. But it was something because Amelia’s nerves were on fire like Fourth of July sparklers. She knelt with one leg on the sofa, her other foot still on the ground, her arms crossed on the back of the couch so that she could look out the tiny dormer window. The rain still fell in sheets, but the wind had died down. Amelia pressed her forehead against the glass and strained to see the grounds. There was nothing out there.

She stood up again, her eyes sweeping the room, landing on the small chair with the broken arm, the boxes Keoloko had delivered a day earlier, the broken padlock hanging from the small closet door that led to an open space under the eaves. Amelia knew that there was a loose board right in front of her so, when she finally did move, she avoided it.

She cracked the door and saw the one to Emily’s suite was still shut. She went to the top of the stairs and looked over. The landing was empty. She slid down the steps and stayed close to the wall. On the second landing, she looked over again and that’s when she saw the night girl’s legs. Another step and she saw the night girl’s friend lying beside her. Amelia knew they were dead. It wasn’t the blood on the floor, it wasn’t the fact that the night girl’s eyes were open and unblinking or that her leg didn’t twitch. Amelia just instantly knew that they were dead. Whoever had killed them was in the house because she heard an angry voice tumbling down the hall from the kitchen. The voices weren’t loud enough to identify, but she knew one belonged to a man.

Amelia didn’t run or cry out or panic but she imagined she would soon. Until then her instincts guided her. She retraced her steps, keeping her eyes on the open spaces below. On the second floor she crept into Mr. Traini’s room. He would be the easiest to secure. If she got him into his wheelchair she could get him into the closet. That would be little protection, but it was the best she could do.

“Mr. Traini.” Amelia eased back his sheets and leaned close to his ear so that he could hear her whispers. “Wake up Mr. Traini. Listen. You must listen…”

Amelia pulled back. Her fingers were trembling when she touched his pulse point on his neck. As soon as she determined there was none, Amelia Francis’ grabbed the railing around the bed and doubled over, forcing herself not to throw up.

***

Johnson and Reynolds faced off in the kitchen. Bernard was the color of ice. It wasn’t because he was appalled that he had just given the residents a little too much of their medicine – that didn’t really feel like murder – but because of what Johnson had done. Johnson was an animal. He didn’t look any different for having shot two young women as they came through the front door, wet and grateful that they were safe at last. Now that was murder and the sight of that was enough to make the color drain from Bernard Reynolds’ face forever.

“Are you crazy? Are you crazy?” Bernard had said that about twenty times and Johnson was getting tired of hearing it.

“Hey! Hey! What was I supposed to do?”

“Just …” Bernard sputtered. His hands were flapping like wings “Just nothing. I mean, for God’s sake, you killed them in cold blood.”

“You killed the other people.”

“They were half dead,” Bernard wailed. “We needed the night girl to find them. We agreed. She would find them and assume they all just passed away in their sleep. It’s not like it would have been unexpected.” Bernard paced. He threw up his hands. “What were we thinking? It was a stupid plan. Now there are two girls with bullets in them. We can’t do this. It was wrong from the start. We have to call someone. I’m not going to be running for the rest of my life. I won’t, Johnson. It will be fine. If we turn ourselves in now and explain… Look… Here’s how it is.”

Bernard bumped around his desk, knocking things over in the dark, opening drawers until he found his flashlight. His hands were shaking so badly the darn light danced all over the place. He babbled as he fell into his chair and pulled the phone toward him.

“Here’s what we say. We say they surprised you. It was self-defense. You are security and it was storming. Totally understandable on a night like this. And the other three? Natural causes. That’s how we explain that. I mean, since we didn’t get to Emily no one is going to think that we were … we were…”

Bernard juggled with the receiver. It flew out of his hands but he caught it and held it to his chest. Johnson stepped forward and put his hands on the desk.

“Say it Bernard. No one would think we were going to exterminate them. Is that what people won’t think?”

“Well, yes.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“No, I’m not. And I’m the authority here. You seem to have forgotten that. Good grief, Johnson, how did I ever let you talk me into this? This was crazy from the beginning. What were you thinking? What were you…”

Bernard Reynolds never finished his question. Johnson didn’t want to explain again what he was thinking so he put both of them out of their misery with a well-placed shot between Bernard Reynolds’ eyes.

***

“Wake up.”

Josie bucked and cried. Her cries were muffled by a hand over her mouth, and her body was pinned by someone lying on top of her pushing the breath out of her. Her panic was almost unbearable until she realized it was Amelia who was doing these things. Josie blinked but she couldn’t see Amelia’s eyes. They were nothing but two black holes in her pale and narrow face. Her breath was hot and her shushing urgent.

“Be quiet,” she hissed, sliding off only when Josie nodded.

Amelia gestured toward Emily. Then she pointed downstairs, put her finger to her lips, and began her pantomime all over again. Understanding what needed to be done but not why, Josie put on her sweat pants. When she went for her shoes, Amelia shook her head hard. Josie swept them up as Amelia motioned for her to listen at the door. Josie did as she was directed, but heard nothing. She glanced over her shoulder to see that Amelia had Emily sitting up.

She put her ear back to the door.

Once again, she looked over her shoulder.

Amelia and Emily were ready to go. Josie reached for the doorknob but Amelia frantically pointed toward the room where Josie had first seen Emily. Josie shook her head vehemently. It was a dead end. Amelia ignored her and half dragged Emily with her into the rocking chair room.

Having no choice, Josie went after them only to turn and lunge for her purse. Slinging it across her body, she dashed into the room in time to see Emily and Amelia disappear through a panel in the wall. Josie ducked through. Her last thought was the hope that she wasn’t following a woman as insane as her father. The opening was half her height and when the panel shut and the darkness enveloped the three women, Josie cried out.

She could not hear the wind. She could not see outside. She could not orient herself. She could not bear pitch black or silence or enclosed spaces. It was the mountains, the mountains all over again, and Archer was not coming for her because Archer did not know where she was. Just when Josie was sure that she would perish, a warm hand took hers and a silken whisper followed.

“Don’t be afraid. Come with me.”

And with that, another panel opened and there was just enough grey light for Josie to see that Amelia was urging them down a rickety stairwell but it was Emily who held Josie’s hand so that she would not be afraid in the dark.

Scopolamine known as hyoscine and Brugmansia is a tropane alkaloid. It has become increasingly popular as a date rape drug, because unlike other date rape drugs that knock the victim out, this drug leaves the victim in a state of compliancy, in an awake zombie state, where their mind is totally controlled so they can participate in the rape, then remember nothing at all. It is that very result that made the drug so appealing to the CIA. –
Wikipedia

CHAPTER 24

The Speaker of the House, a lobbyist for the airline industry, and a civil rights activist were dining at Seasons, table 53. Woodrow Calister and Ambrose Patriota had the slightly preferable table 54. Before they got down to business, they talked about Lydia and her exceptional fundraising capabilities. They talked about the young doctor who was awarded the grant to further her studies of mind management. They talked about football and they talked about the menu. Ambrose praised the new chef; Woodrow lamented the chic portions. They talked about the problems in the Middle East.