Lady Sativa (2 page)

Orient set his glass down arid looked at her. “Appreciate hearing some,” he said calmly. “Sordi and I hit every name on the list.”

Sybelle felt a sudden rush of remorse at her snappish attitude when she saw the quietly attentive expression on his face. He looked very young, despite the white streak that shot through his shaggy black hair. The lean, high-boned features were as earnest as those of an inquisitive boy. There’s one
good
possibility,” she said softly, “if you want to save the house. It’s exactly the kind of foundation that can help you. And I
happen
to be a member of the board.”

“What board is that Sybelle?” Sordi prompted when Orient didn’t answer.

Sybelle gave him a grateful smile. “It’s called SEE,” she told him. “Society for Extranorjnal Exploration.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Orient said slowly. It’s backed by Bestman Corporation. But when I tried to get in touch with Anthony Bestman, his office told me he was unavailable. And they had no information about an organization called SEE”

“There, I
knew
it,” Sybelle gushed enthusiastically. “You tried to contact
the
wrong man.”

“I checked the corporation listing myself,” Sordi protested. “Anthony Bestman is President.”

“Oh, he
runs
the business,” Sybelle said, patting his hand, “but most of the stock is controlled by his brother Carl.
Carl
Bestman is the inspiration and financial benefactor of SEE. Anthony is a horrible man. Of
course,
he wouldn’t speak to you. He considers us all a crackpot club out to fleece his brother. All Anthony knows are money and big-game hunting. But Carl is a biologist; he’s quite different. I
knew
there was something I could do.” She picked up her glass and drained it. “Simply perfect.”

Orient drummed his long fingers on the table. “Sounds good,” he said, “as long as Carl Bestman understands that the telepathic technique has nothing to do with SEE’s interest in the occult.”

“I
told
you Carl is a biologist,” Sybelle sniffed. “And all five members of our board approach the study of extranormal phenomena
scientifically.
Don’t be such a snob, darling. I recall you also having a morbid interest in the occult your own self.” She sat back in her chair, adjusted the pink lapel of her satin pantsuit, and gave Sordi her most devastating smile. “Give us a try.”

Sordi shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “You think this Carl Bestman will give Dr. Orient some money?”

“In a month,” Sybelle said, lowering her voice. SEE is going to meet at Carl’s estate. At the conference each member can present a candidate for the approval of the board. The person who, in the opinion of SEE’s board, is most deserving takes a prize of fifty thousand dollars.” She looked at Orient. “And when we show them the results of your research I’m
positive
they’ll award you the prize.”

“Sounds great to me,” Sordi looked hopefully at Orient. “What do you think?”

Orient’s smile relaxed the jutting contours of his face. “Sounds like just what we need to keep us going,” he said softly.

“Now
stop
being such a conservative, darling,” Sybelle said.
I’ve
decided it’s just the thing. It’s about time you started meeting people. You’ve practically become a
hermit.
”

“Just what I’ve been saying all along,” Sordi put in, unable to restrain his enthusiasm. “He needs to get out more. He works too hard.”

Orient beamed at Sybelle and Sordi. “Seem to be outvoted and out-diagnosed. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“And you won’t regret it.” Sybelle extended her glass over the table. “To the
new
Dr. Owen Orient.” She looked at Sordi and lowered her lashes. “And to new friendships,” she added softly.

Later, as Sordi drove her home, Sybelle curled down against the deep, leather upholstery and regarded him carefully. He certainly was a good-looking man, she noted, going over his assets. And very loyal to Owen. She liked that quality in a man. She decided to wait for him to make the first move. But after only a few seconds of watching him maneuver the large limousine through the traffic, her curiosity won out. “You drive so well,” she said, “and it’s such a huge machine.”

Sordi snorted and shook his head sadly. “This monster. Dr. Orient spent a lot of time and money getting this tank together.” He remembered how he had tried, tactfully, to convince the doctor to get himself something more modern.

Orient had explained patiently but firmly that the coachwork on the Rolls Ghost had been done by a special designer. An American called Brewster. Orient also told him that the car had been specially built in America. Sordi shook his head. Lots of cars were made in America. “It runs great, he made sure of that,” Sordi muttered, “but he should have something with more styling.”

Sybelle agreed. The polished wood and dark leather interior were very tasteful, but she preferred the lush convenience of a newer car. However, she didn’t intend to discuss automotive engineering. “How long have you been with Orient now?” she asked casually

“About six years,” Sordi’s gaze was fixed on the wide windshield, but his voice betrayed his interest. “How about you?”

“Ten years,” Sybelle admitted with a trace of annoyance. It occurred to her that in all that time she had discovered very little about Owen Orient. They had become good friends in the time they’d worked together, but she still hadn’t managed to crack that quiet, deceptively mild exterior. The thought irked her.

When she’d first met him he’d been just twenty, a very brilliant and very eager student who asked her hundreds of questions about her work as a medium. Then when he began practicing psychiatry he continued to come to see her, occasionally taking part in some séances and readings. He watched everything that was done very carefully, as if he was trying to memorize the procedure. Being bright, handsome, and rich he’d become a great favorite at her gatherings, but he always remained reserved. At first Sybelle had thought it was shyness, but she gradually came to understand that it went deeper than that. Owen had some other preoccupation beyond social success. He seemed extremely restless for a time, then he left New York and was abroad for two or three years. She lost touch, but she heard he’d been seen in Paris and Beirut. Finally, someone told her he’d gone to India. When she saw Owen again she sensed a complete change in him.

His manner remained reserved, but it couldn’t be mistaken for shyness any longer. He radiated an aura of serene assurance. He told her that he’d been in Tibet for nine months and was back to begin research. They had maintained occasional contact, but it wasn’t until this year, when he’d asked her to help him with some experiments, that she discovered that his research concerned telepathic communication. And just recently she’d come to realize that Owen’s knowledge of her own field, the occult sciences, was as extensive as her own. “You must know Owen
very
well,” Sybelle prompted sweetly, “being his assistant all this time. It was right after he came back from Tibet wasn’t it?”

Sordi nodded. “Working with the doctor has been great for me. I studied science in Italy, but he’s taught me things I didn’t think were possible.”

“Has Owen taught you his technique?”

“Not yet. My Psi factors are still blocked.” He squinted through the windshield. “Maybe after you get the project on its feet.”

He was charming, Sybelle thought as she nestled deeper into the seat. “Doesn’t Owen see any girls?” she purred sleepily.

Sordi hesitated. “There’ve been a few.” He was silent for a moment as he braked for a light. The oversized disc brakes that Orient had installed brought the long, heavy car to a gentle stop. “He’s been working too hard,” Sordi confided. “He hasn’t been seeing anyone except you and some other old friends.” He fell silent again.

“He
never
wanted to get married?” Sybelle prodded.

His shift into first and the slow acceleration of the car were both noiseless. He pursed his lips for a moment before he answered. “Well, he was interested in a couple of those girls,” he said slowly. He glanced at her then stared straight ahead. “But it didn’t work out. One girl, especially, I think he was serious about. He was with her for a few months in Europe. They stayed at my house in Ischia. But that was almost two years ago. These days the doctor’s been trying to keep the house operating. It hasn’t been easy.”

“What happened?” Sybelle sat up in her seat, her interest totally activated. “To the girl I mean.”

“It… didn’t work out. They broke up in Europe.”

Sybelle remembered something else she’d always wondered about. “Has Owen ever conducted any experiments in the occult?” she asked.

Sordi opened his mouth and then closed it. “I really “don’t know,” he said after a moment.” But someday you should visit Ischia. It’s in Italy and it’s very beautiful.”

“I’m sure I should.” Sybelle slumped down again as she realized that Sordi was as close-mouthed as his employer. It was frustrating. “Perhaps you’ll show me Ischia someday,” she suggested, deciding to try another tack.

“I’m sure you’ll be crazy about the place,” he said, ignoring the direction of her remark.

Sybelle sighed. She would have to cast her lines patiently, she told herself, if she hoped to land Sordi at all.

When they reached Sybelle s brownstone, Sordi parked the car and came around to open her door.

‘Thank you
so
much,” she flashed her brightest smile and extended her hand. “It was a lovely evening. And your cooking was
divine.”

“Anytime,” Sordi mumbled. Impulsively, he bowed and kissed her hand. “Good night,” he said, edging back to the automobile.

How simply marvelous, Sybelle thought as she hunted for her key. There’s nothing like a European man to make a girl feel feminine. She would definitely have to pursue this matter. After all, she wasn’t getting any younger.

Sordi waited until Sybelle was inside before starting the motor. That’s some woman, he observed as the Ghost pulled away. She was heavy-set, but he liked that. She reminded him of the strong, healthy women of his birthplace. Not like some of those American stringbeans who never ate anything except Jello and cottage cheese. He began to sing softly over the resonant vibration of the engine as the car floated smoothly across the deserted streets. Things were looking up. Just as long as she wasn’t looking for a husband.

As he climbed the stairs to his room, Orient wondered if he’d made a wise move in accepting Sybelle’s offer. SEE was known as an organization more concerned with random occult matters than laboratory sciences. It was possible that association with the group might tend to put the telepathic techniques in the category of witchcraft.

No other choice, he reminded himself, just be grateful for old friends. As it was he could make it for another three months before the operation folded. A grant from SEE would keep them going for at least another year. It was the only game in town and he was lucky to have a chance of playing. He went into the bedroom and took off his clothes. The important thing, he decided as he walked across the hall to the meditation room, was to make sure that his presentation would deserve a prize. He slid the doors apart.

He sat down cross-legged on the soft carpet next to the pool. On one side, beneath a clear glass strip on the floor, he could see the bright flashes of fish in the water below. Across the open pool, on the other side of the room, was a large black rock. Its massiveness, contrasted against the rippling water and soft spots of light, created a sense of emptiness in the long room. Orient stretched his naked body on the carpet and began the physical exercises. He began with the Yang movements, twisting and bending his spine and giving up all thoughts of money, prizes, and problems to the vibrating absence around him.

He narrowed his concentration to his body, pulling his consciousness across his muscles, lungs, and blood vessels as he increased his efforts.

He went into the Yin series, the breathing patterns which expanded his awareness until he was in communication with every cell of his chemistry. He drew his mind through the millions of connections until he found the source of the energy. The code gene, the tiny organism that spun the web of his being. He suspended and let the gravity of that tiny universe within him draw him into an orbit where all present, past, and future time was compressed into one atmosphere.

He soared around a primary chemical sun, feeling the magnetic heat of its presence charge his senses with new possibilities of existence.

Then a high wind came across the glittering void, subtly altering the ecstatic pattern of his flight. A flash of color entered his field of vision and he realized he was. passing a large, crudely shaped structure. A shape from a forgotten reality. A room.

A man was sitting erectly at a table. The man’s face seemed far away yet loomed up large against his consciousness.

The face was unknown.

It was triangular in shape and the steely gray eyes were accentuated by thick black eyebrows that angled sharply around them. The long, thin nose was set above full, smiling lips. The narrow chin made the broad forehead seem very wide and high….

All form shredded and the wind faded away, leaving Orient hovering free in the timeless gravity.

He spun effortlessly through the magnetic emptiness, listening for the soothing pulses of energy radiating from the source of his time.