Mystical Love (88 page)

“Which takes us back to square one,” Charlotte said. “We must do everything in our power to record one of his late-night sessions. Once we have that, we can confront him with it. He'll have no choice but to stop what he's doing and go underground, like before.”

Brad fished in his pocket and withdrew a cigarette pack. “I still say we drop hints to Reed. We let the shit fall and see where it sticks.”

“How do you propose we alert him without alerting him?” Charlotte asked.

“You'll call Sonny and convince her there's major trouble in the Sans Spring office. She'll have no choice but to go and oversee the crisis. While you're doing that, I'll arrange a meeting with Agent Reed and Lieutenant Cutter.”

He blew smoke rings in the air. “This is the last time I intend to help you with anything concerning Pandora,” he added. “You agreed when we married that the project was simply too dangerous to continue its practice. Didn't we hurt enough children in the name of science and our egos? I care too much for Sonny to continue to lie to her.”

“Do you think I enjoy lying to her? Knowing that if we don't stop Ned, we'll be sending her to a life filled with unimaginable pain?”

“Once I confess everything to Reed, he'll move heaven and earth to keep her safe. You've seen how he looks at her.”

“We have to focus on stopping Ned's behavior
now
.”

“How do you propose to do it?”

“We'll use Ned's own therapy against him. We'll put Margie Hunt under, take her through Pandora, and record what path she leads us down. If she responds to our questions and commands, we'll have our proof.”

“Let's use Sonny instead,” Brad suggested. “Let's have her touch Margie and blow Ned's charade out of the water. It's the logical thing to do. He'll be arrested.”

“And so will we,” Charlotte said, shaking her head. “No, everything I'm doing is to make sure Sonny's safe. Now, go and call Sonny while I contact Margie.”

Brad sprang from the chair, stubbing his cigarette out as he passed an ashtray atop an ornate end table. Reaching the door, he paused, but didn't turn around.

“After this debacle is finished, I'm leaving The Sanctuary. If I stay, I won't be able to look Sonny in the eye ever again.” He pulled open the door and went through. His thoughts immediately soured. He didn't give a damn what happened to him. As long as the killings stopped, and Sonny was safe, he'd accept whatever punishment Meta Corps dished out. He'd even divorce Charlotte if it meant saving Sonny; their marriage had been unraveling for years, anyway.

Heading for his car, he realized he should've stood up to Charlotte long ago and refused to do her bidding. What she wanted didn't matter in the scheme of things. In her own way, she was as determined as Ned to rework Pandora for her own gain.
No
. He shook his head. Action was needed right now, action against both of them.

Reaching his car, he jerked the driver's door open and slid inside. Instead of calling Sonny, he was going to drive to Cutter's office and spill everything to him. Once he revealed Ned was really Charles Fremont, a convicted felon, Cutter'd leave no stone unturned in making sure Ned got what he deserved. Brad smiled smugly as he backed out of his parking space. If things played out as he thought, Ned would soon be rotting in a lonely prison cell, unable to act out his perverted fantasies. He stepped on the gas pedal and shot down the driveway and onto the blacktop that led to The Sanctuary security offices.

• • •

The tires on the Kia kept up a steady hum on the blacktop, allowing Logan to take a moment to wind down. Today had already turned really shitty, and the interrogation they had just come through had been even shittier. And now, with the ominous cracks of thunder drawing closer, along with a sheer black dip in the skyline, it was clear searching for the Pandora disc would need to be postponed until the weather cleared.

He could smell the change in the air already. Would he be able to drive through howling winds and rain without upending the car and killing himself and Sonny? He didn't relish even trying. If everything he heard about monsoon rains was true, they should've been driving to the nearest motel and checking in. Would the mouse be agreeable to stopping? He stole a peek at her profile. No, she was brooding, lost in thoughts he couldn't begin to understand.

“You need to let it out and breathe,” he told her.

“How do I breathe ever again, when I don't exist?”

“You exist,” Logan said.

“As what, a sideshow freak? For pity's sake, Logan, I
know
things. How did I not see
this
?”

“We don't even know that
this
is true,” Logan said. “Sykes was a bitter old man eaten up by his conscience. He did Para-Corps' bidding, and God knows that pack of radicals spent hours stroking their own egos rather than helping their patients. Why do you suppose the group was disbanded?”

“Went underground, you mean. They obviously haven't stopped.”

“Again, we don't know that.”

She fell silent, going back to her brooding, and Logan decided not to push the conversation.

“I suppose we should've put a call through to Dick before we left Foster's,” she said, startling him. “After all, it's clear Foster's death is connected to Daddy's. Didn't you say you promised him we wouldn't keep information from him?”

Logan slid his gaze back to the skyline. “We'll be doing him a greater service by finding the DVD before our sniper friend has a chance to destroy it.”

Sonny sprang up in her seat. “My God, you're right. It's totally possible our conversation was overheard. We've even less time than I thought.” She twisted around, and Logan saw her check the roadway behind them. “There's nothing behind or ahead of us, so floor it! We can reach The Harbor in less than fifteen minutes.”

Logan gave a twisted smile but held their speed. “And what is The Harbor?”

“My second residence,” she stated. She hit the down button for the window. “It's hot in here. Aren't you hot?” She turned her face towards the wind whipping in and enjoyed the breeze.

“Perhaps I should have pilfered a Valium from Foster's medicine cabinet for you,” Logan said. “You're sounding more and more like Alice's White Rabbit every minute.”

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Sonny snapped at him. “Give me a drug to get me out of the way.”

Logan sighed, suppressing an urge to box the mouse's ears. “Believe me, if I wanted you out of the way, you would be.” He saw the mulish set of her lips and prepared himself for one of her sarcastic retorts. A clap of thunder shook the frame of the car instead, and the pair jumped. The darkest part of the skyline was closing in on them rapidly. “Let's hope we manage to beat the rain. I've never driven in a treacherous monsoon before.”

“It's not treacherous until the water has had time to pool,” Sonny advised. “Do you need me to drive? I'm in much better shape than you are at the moment. You look terrible.”

Logan shot her a lopsided grin. “Sticks and stones—”

A hiss interrupted him. “Turn left at the next light, and then move to the far right lane. There's a shortcut we can use. It'll save us at least five minutes.”

Following her instructions, he increased their speed.

“Do you believe Foster's story about me?” Sonny asked, as the vehicle coasted under an overpass.

“I believe he believed it,” Logan answered. “But then—” A crack of thunder rocked the skyline, making them exchange tremulous glances. “I thought you said we had time.”

“We do. The thunder is just a wake-up call.”

Another booming clap permeated the air, followed by a sudden torrential downpour of wind and rain. Logan flicked the windshield wipers to high and then focused his attention on keeping the center white line in sight. Five minutes later, he emitted a vitriolic curse.

“It's a mess out here,” he said. “I didn't intend to spend the night trapped in a motel room with you, but the first one we come to, we're stopping.” It was clear by the dip of her brows that she was remembering their shared visions. Her eyes narrowed, and he called her on it. “I don't know what's going on in that pretty head of yours, but if you think I'm going to drive another five minutes in this monsoon, you're crazy. And you're not going to either. We're stopping.”

She made a face at him. “In that case, take a right at the next flashing light. The Harbor's just up the incline.”

Logan studied her shuttered lids.

“We've got to step on it,” she urged. “The main part of the storm is closer than I thought.”

Logan shook his head. Now she was admitting the truth. They were in trouble. A mile later, they reached the flashing intersection, and he turned right.

“The Harbor's just ahead,” she told him. “It will be cozy and dry.”

Overhead, another clap of thunder shattered the air.

“We're cutting this awfully close,” Logan said. He tried to ignore the word “cozy.” The last thing he needed was to be confined in a small space with the mouse.

Sonny leaned over and checked the speedometer. “I don't see why you're so worried. We're barely doing ten miles an hour.”

“The idea is to get where we're going alive,” Logan countered.

She pointed out the front of the windshield. “Can you see that row of lights up ahead?”

Logan peered through the shimmering rain, grunting when he saw the designated lights. He followed the roadway, his foot tapping the brakes all the way.

“The road's going to fork at the end of the lights,” Sonny told him. “Turn right and follow the next set of light poles. We'll come up under a carport.”

A clap of thunder shook the car, and the pair jumped again. A river of raindrops slid down the front windshield, trickling down the driver's-side window and onto the frame of the car. Logan heeded Sonny's suggestion and drove the car up the incline rapidly. Sonny's ashen face was enough to convince him they were making shelter just in time.

Concentrating on the string of lights, Logan was soon braking under a sloping carport. He shut off the engine and glanced out the side window. A beautifully carved entranceway stood outlined. Cozy and dry, she had said; she had forgotten to mention the cabin was made of rustic, cedar logs. He heard the passenger door open and swung around.

“It's not wise to be anywhere outside when the full force of the wind hits,” Sonny remarked, slipping from the seat. He was out and around the car even as her feet hit the pavement. She flew to the front door, put in a key code, and then quickly waved him inside. “The rain will last for hours,” she said, as he strode through the door behind her. “It will give us time to put our heads together. I think I know how to locate the DVD."

“I'm listening,” Logan said, distracted by the look and feel of the great room they were now standing in. It was New Age chic, housing a comfortable seating area like its sister hacienda, Serenity. However, the difference ended there. In Serenity, he had seen technology at its finest. Here, the shelves lining the wall contained New Age books, angel statues, and big and small amethyst crystals. Scented candles and metaphysical wall hangings were spaced at sporadic intervals around the room, and they gave the cabin the feel of a mini spiritual retreat. Two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves dwarfed the northeast wall of the room, and their top portions contained wrapped items in a bevy of small cubbyholes. He watched Sonny cross to the shelf, where she scanned the holes with her fingers.

“Up on the mesa, and then later at Serenity, you wondered why Daddy left the Lovers Tarot card for me. I think I can answer that now.”

Her fingers paused in their search, and she hauled a rectangular box from its cubbyhole. She spun and headed for the seating area, signaling Logan to join her. When they were both seated before an ornately carved coffee table, she opened the box and withdrew a deck of Tarot cards. She picked up their conversation, riffling through the cards.

“Back at Foster's, when you entered the vision, what did you see?” She let a card fall onto the table in front of them and then continued her search.

“Sykes tore a key chain from his neck and tossed it to us,” Logan answered.

Her fingers halted, her gaze lifting to his face. “Right. And when we exited the vision, you immediately looked for the key around Foster's neck, because in your world, clues are tangible things, something you can see, touch, smell, or hear with your own physical senses. But in my world, everything tangible is symbolic.”

She stopped speaking, and Logan realized she was making sure he was following her reasoning.

“I'm still listening,” he told her.

“Right.” She began searching the deck again, finding and dropping cards onto the table. “Now, in your logical world, a key opens a structured door. It could be a door to a house, a car, or even a safety-deposit box. But in my world, a key symbolizes knowledge, and since the key landed in my hand during the vision instead of yours, I believe Foster was saying that we must think spiritually first and then translate that knowledge into the real world. That means, I must think Pandora out spiritually, and you must make use of that knowledge in a practical way.”

“And how do you think spiritually?” Logan asked, curious.

She reached into her pocket and hauled out the Tarot cards sequestered there. She flashed them at him. “These are the cards Meta Corps sent. They're from a traditional Tarot deck, because that's the deck most people are familiar with.” She laid the five cards out in a line, in a repeat of their earlier arrangement. “Here are the original images,” she said. She picked up five of the eight cards she had chosen from the new deck and flashed them at Logan. “These are from the mythic Tarot deck, which contains actual renditions of mythological creatures.”