Heathern (24 page)

Three hours later Jake and Bernard hustled me into the
car; Thatcher was already inside. When we went back to
Dryco I'd been locked in my office, as if I'd try to get away.
Thatcher had come in to sit with me awhile; after so long he
departed, leaving neither explanation nor conclusion behind.

"What are you doing to him? Where is he?"

"You've got to let us handle this, hon," Thatcher said.
"You're taking this more seriously than you ought to-"

"I don't want to hear it," I said. "What were those papers
Avi had? Will you please tell me something other than
lies?"

"What else can we offer, sweetness?" said Bernard. "I
prefer to give you truth if you seem capable of dealing with
it. You know that."

"The papers show Lester was approached by Otsuka's
boys earlier this year," Thatcher said, staring through the
windshield at the narrow street before us. "He's admitted it.
Told us it went no further than that. We have no reason to
think otherwise. Said he didn't even realize until the other
day that they might even have been connected to Otsuka.
Says the ones who did the contacting weren't Japanese. It's
not a pretty tale."

"It appears Otsuka heard the same stories as we did,"
said Bernard, "and proposed similar options through his
agents. He simply didn't woo with such intensity as did we,
and certainly he hadn't such good bait. Call it a hunch, but I
doubt that theology played much of a part in their actions.
I'd think driving messianic delusions into Shintoism could
prove problematic."

"I still think it's funny none of the Europeans got into the
act-" said Thatcher.

"They probably tried," said Bernard. "When all these
lovers come calling, what's a boy to do?"

"If he had nothing to do with them what difference does
it make?" I asked. "Why are you doing this?"

"He could have gone along," said Thatcher, by way of
explanation. "He just didn't. But he could have."

"Macaffrey is rather too intent on keeping secrets," said
Bernard. "Not necessarily a useful trait if he's to attain the
sort of position some around here would have him attain.
It's a matter he should have found appropriate at some time
to mention to us, and he didn't. He said nothing to you, I'm
sure-"

"This is insane," I said. "Nobody keeps more secrets
than you two."

"A number of which he's discovered since signing on
with us. And he is uncannily adept at making inferences
regarding situations best left alone. There's no way around
it, Joanna, the teacher needs a lesson of his own."

"Even a messiah can't think he can get away with
anything he wants to do," said Thatcher. "We hear anything
from Susie yet? Shouldn't she be there by now?"

"She's only just landing, Thatcher. Give it until nine or
nine-thirty. Let her get there, why don't you?"

"I just asked--

"What are you doing to Lester?" I repeated. "Where is
he?"

"Please calm down, hon," Thatcher said. "We're going to
see him now. We had him taken over to the Tombs. They
got some new techniques in development over there Bernard thought could be productively applied. I gave the
go-ahead."

"You're going to torture him," I said.

"What kind of people you think we are?" Thatcher asked.
"We won't do anything to him that'll hurt him physically."

"Think of it as motivational training," said Bernard.
"Some call it neopavlovianism. We leave him with a few
lasting impressions. Nothing new. Simply reenforcing
what's already there, in the event he chooses to stray."

"But what is it?"

"Elegant," he continued. "We recreate for the subject a
key event in the subject's life."

"What sort of event?"

"Ideally, a childhood trauma. They can come in so handy
later on, if put to worthy purpose. The doctors believe this
treatment will be helpful not only for us but for the subject
as well-"

"Lester," I said, interrupting. "Not subject. Lester."

"You say tomato," said Bernard. "In any event, by
enabling him to reexperience a chosen trauma, lifting it to
the surface of his mind, he has a second chance to deal with
its effects, using knowledge since gained and-oh, how do
they put it?-life experiences to get a better grasp on the
inescapable. Everyone's better off afterward, possibly."

The Tombs was in the Criminal Courts Building, on
Centre Street, not far from Dryco headquarters. Years ago
criminals awaiting trial were held in cells on the upper
floors; when the new jail was built to the north of the older
structure, those upper floors were renovated for new uses,
through a joint effort of the city government and Dryco.

"Behavioral science is such a growth industry," Bernard
continued. "I'm told this particular technique is especially
useful conjoined with traditional psychiatric approaches,
though I don't have to tell you about my qualms concerning
psychiatry. The only Freud I appreciate is schadenfreude.
Still, now that something more scientific has been added to
the mix--

"What have you done to him so far?"

"A brief isolation," Bernard said. "He was given a light
sedative, to assist in calming him before the next step, a
little walk down memory lane."

Our car pulled into the garage that had been built below
the new jail. The elevators that rose through the old
building, leading to the Tombs, could be reached through a
series of secured tunnels that ran under the street beneath
the structures.

"You ever been here before, hon?" Thatcher asked.

"For jury duty," I said. "Six years ago."

"It's a fascinating place, whatever you've heard. You
know how shaggy dog stories shed."

"The new computer's mainframe will be installed here
directly above the interrogation floor," said Bernard. "It's a
good central location."

The elevator reserved for Dryco's use took us up; when
we emerged we entered a hall that appeared so washed of
personality that it could have been any office building.
Discarded monitors, keyboards, and desks were piled high
along the walls; the lights flickered and hissed, and smelled
of burning tar. Police and men in cheap suits went about
their business until they saw Thatcher approaching; then they'd flatten themselves against uncluttered walls until we
passed, Bernard and I coming directly behind him, Jake
bringing up the rear. We reached what appeared to be
the end of the hall. Bernard, stepping forward, pressed a
light switch; the wall blocking our progress slid out of
sight, revealing a shorter hall beyond, and two unmarked
doors.

"That one leads to the staging area," said Bernard,
nodding to the door on the left, opening the one on the
right. "The observation room. Let us observe."

"Stay back here, Jake," Thatcher said, and Jake took his
place by the door once we entered. Walking in, we saw
ourselves walking toward us. A mirror: one as high and
wide as the room, serving as barrier between staging area
and observatory. An oak table was placed perpendicular to
the mirror, and the table's chairs were turned away from the
door. Two men wearing long white coats were already in
the room; I gathered that they could be called doctors. They
shifted in their chairs and greeted us.

"Hello, Frank," Bernard said, shaking hands with the
older of the pair, a man in his late fifties with a red, wattled
neck. His cheeks were scarred with pockmarks; his white
hair retained enough blond to lend his crown a greenish
corrosion. "How's he holding up? All progressing?"

"His injection was administered twenty minutes ago,"
Frank said. "Optimum timeframe begins shortly and lasts
for an hour and a half."

"Shouldn't think it'd take that long," said Thatcher,
pulling out a chair for me that I might have a seat. "This is
Joanna, folks."

"He mentioned you," said Frank. "You've made an
impression on an impressionable mind."

"She has that tendency," said Bernard.

"What are you shooting him up with?" I asked.

"Let's let these old junkies explain. Medical terminology
so disturbs my ears. Howard?"

"The patient receives 450 cc's of Pentathline blended with a trace of Metalysergic," Howard, the younger doctor,
replied. Something about him reminded me of the boys I
knew in high school biology class, the ones who liked
to help the teachers pass out the new-pithed frogs.
"Pentathline enables the patient to recall repressed information in infinite detail, while Metalysergic's hallucinogenic properties allow him to believe that events described are
events occurring."

"Chemical hypnosis," said Frank. "If you told him a
match had been applied to his arm, a blister would be raised
on the skin."

"When actual events taken from the patient's life are
recounted to him, the combined chemicals produce in the
mind an ongoing reality unrelated to actual surroundings."

"Better n' television," said Thatcher.

"And no unwanted side effects are afterward noticed?"
Bernard asked.

"None noticed thus far."

"What are you going to make him remember?" I asked.

"Allow him to remember," Bernard said, correcting me.
He opened a folder lying atop a small pile stacked upon the
table and, pulling from it two Xeroxes of newspaper
articles, handed them to me. The clippings were from the
Lexington, Kentucky Herald, with dates twenty years distant.

DOCTORS THINK MIRACLE CHILD WILL SURVIVE,

and

LESTER TO TESTIFY IN MOTHER'S TRIAL, DA SAYS

"Sending his own mother to the slammer," said Thatcher. "What a world."

"They had to send her someplace ..." Bernard said.

"Please explain these," I said, letting the copies drop
onto the table.

"He didn't even tell you?" Bernard said. "See what we mean about this fondness for secrecy? I'd almost call it a
fetish."

"One day Lester's mother went a little funny in the
head," said Thatcher.

"Afterward," said Bernard, "her sense of purpose persuaded her to plead neither guilt nor insanity. She discharged three lawyers before setting her sights low enough.
Young Macaffrey was the only witness for the prosecution,
and once he recovered the trial began. His testimony was
given in closed session, with only the lawyers and judge
present. They were considerate enough to take his age into
account. She was convicted, and sentenced. She filed no
appeal and so went up the river, or wherever it is they go in
Kentucky. Six months later a fire of suspicious origin gutted
her cell. She was in it, at the time."

"Suspicious?" I said. "How?"

"Only cause of the fire they could come up with was
spontaneous human combustion," said Thatcher.

"Not a favorite of coroners," said Bernard. "It was put
down as--" He paused; thumbed through the stack until
he found the document he sought. "Death by misadventure," he read. "So Macaffrey was put, briefly, in the care of
the commonwealth, poor boy. He was given a remarkable
number of tests pertaining to intelligence and personality.
He had no surviving family and after a time they began
shooting him through a series of foster homes, all the while
being periodically tested. Emotional fractures were noted
early on, along with a keen but unbalanced intellect. He
fooled them enough even then that at one point he was
given the Rhine test for ESP. Results were inconclusive,
which hardly surprises-"

"Seems he got put in homes where the fathers had lots of
time on their hands," said Thatcher. "He got beat pretty
regularly in one of 'em, sounds like. He seemed pretty
content in another, but then the family moved to Houston
to look for work and the agencies responsible for his well-being wouldn't let 'em take him along. They put him
in a place where, when the father wasn't beating him, he
was molesting his daughters. Lester was fifteen by then.
Don't know how old the daughters were, or if he knew
about it, or did anything if he did know."

"We know he ran away," said Bernard. "Then for four
years we have no record as to what he did, or where he was.
He came to New York ten years ago, living in perfect
obscurity until the yen to fulfill this perceived role of savior
of Loisaida came over him. The rest is silence. Frank, recap
results of our tests."

"Pervasive disassociation is noted," said Frank. "Perhaps
predisposing the subject to schizophrenic disorder over the
next few years. Manic-depressive syndrome in the purest
manifestation is not found, though he experiences bouts of
severe depression interspersed with episodes where the
observable messianic complex would appear to be more
pronounced. We find unmistakable signs of ethylithic
mythomania-"

"Run that by me again," said Thatcher.

"A tendency to identify oneself too closely with historic
events," said Frank. "Believing that one's actions effect
one's society, now and in the future, even in the past. Bear
in mind that in most studies of even the so-called great,
psychotic propensities are always noted. We can say-"