Eye of the Beholder (32 page)

Alexa peered through the Jeep's windshield. The headlights revealed a long line of vehicles parked beside the road that curved down the hill from the entrance to the Dimensions Institute.

“Foster was right when he said there would be a problem with overflow parking. The Institute's lots must be full.”

Trask slowed the Jeep. “I see why Pete Santana thought it would be a good idea to put on a special shuttle for the resort guests. It looks like we'd better park here and walk the rest of the way.”

He eased the Jeep to the side of the road and stopped it at the end of the line. Alexa opened the door on her side. She hesitated when she realized how dark it was. The nearly full moon did not compensate for the lack of streetlights. She turned away from the glare of the twin beams of an approaching car.

“We'll need flashlights,” she said, slinging the strap of her satchel over her shoulder.

“In the glove compartment.” Trask was out of the car,
leaning into the backseat. “There should be two of them. Same ones we used at Liz Guthrie's house.”

Alexa fumbled with the latch of the glove compartment, and finally got it open. She retrieved the two small flashlights, closed the compartment, and then shut the door on the driver's side.

Trask walked around the back of the vehicle to join her.

“Mind putting this in your purse?” he asked very casually.

She aimed the flashlight at the bulky black leather case he held out. “It looks heavy. Why do I have to lug it?”

“Some of us red-blooded types haven't got with the New Man program yet. We still feel conspicuous carrying something that looks like a purse.”

“That's not a purse.”

“Of course it's not a purse. Why the hell would I have a purse?” He pushed the soft leather bag into her hands. “It's a laptop computer case.”

It took a second for the implications to strike. By the time she realized what it all meant, Trask was several steps ahead of her, moving toward the entrance to Dimensions.

She dropped the case into her already overburdened satchel and jolted forward, pursuing Trask alongside the row of parked cars.

“What the heck do you think you're going to do with a laptop?” she demanded breathlessly when she caught up with him.

“I'm no hacker, but I am a businessman who uses a
personal computer on a regular basis. I have a reasonably good working knowledge of routine business software applications.”

“So what?”

“So if it turns out that Bell and Radstone keep their files on personal computers instead of hard copy, I want to be prepared.”

“Why not just take a couple of disks with you, stick them into Bell's and Radstone's computers, assuming you find them, and copy the files you want?”

“I won't have time to stand around their offices picking and choosing the files that look promising. But with the laptop I can copy everything from Bell's and Radstone's hard drives onto my own and I can get it done fast.”

“What if the computers are password protected?”

“I'll be out of luck, just as I will be if they've encrypted the critical files.”

Alexa hitched the satchel higher on her shoulder. “I can tell you've given this a little thought.”

“Believe it or not, that's one of the things we CEOs get paid to do. Think.”

“Wow. I always wanted a cushy job like that. But my high school guidance counselor said I would probably have to work for a living. When do you plan to perform your little act of B&E?”

“I looked at that schedule you gave me. I'll go into the seminar complex during Bell's talk and the fireworks display. I'm betting everyone will be outside to catch the big show at that time.”

She glanced at him. His face was unreadable in the shadows, but she sensed the controlled anticipation in him. “The real reason you want me to haul this
laptop around in my purse is so no one will notice you carrying it and wonder why you brought a computer to a psychic fair.”

“A computer might raise a few eyebrows,” he agreed. “Of course, I could always say that I use it to channel with, but I'm not sure anyone would buy that story.”

Alexa looked at the impressive stone and wrought iron gates that marked the glowingly lit entrance to the Institute. The night was balmy and warm, but she suddenly felt chilled to the bone.

“Probably not,” she said.

The grounds of the Institute were crammed with tourists and local Avalon residents. Several rows of booths had been set up in the vast gardens that surrounded the sleek, modern buildings. The crowd that filled the winding garden paths that separated the stalls moved at a sludgelike pace.

Balloons bobbed from strings attached to the wrists of children. The scents of aromatherapy candles mingled with the smell of tofu hot dogs and soy burgers. There was a general air of festivity that Alexa would have found contagious under other circumstances.

She glanced at some of the signs as she and Trask forged their way through thick clumps of fairgoers. One read
Pyramid Power
. She looked at the counter beneath it and saw an array of small crystal pyramids for sale.

Next to the pyramid booth was a gaily striped tent. The painted board in front invited fairgoers to step inside and get themselves tested to determine
the level of their latent psychic abilities.
Find out if you have the potential for telepathy or psychokinesis.

Farther along the path were booths featuring books purporting to reveal the secrets of Alchemy, Atlantis, Stonehenge, and Roswell.
Learn how to access alien energy sources to gain control over your financial affairs
.

There were a number of costumed street musicians wandering through the crowd. Alexa noticed one dressed as a medieval court jester complete with pointed cap and mask. He held a flute to his lips. She could not hear the music above the general din.

“I can't believe the size of this crowd,” Trask muttered. “There must be several thousand people here tonight. I knew this metaphysical junk was a big draw, but I didn't realize it was this popular.”

His scorn made Alexa feel oddly defensive. Avalon was her home, after all. “Metaphysics isn't junk philosophy to a lot of people. It's been around in one form or another for several thousand years. What you see here is a manifestation of the innate human desire to seek meaning in the universe and to explore the unknown dimensions of the mind.”

“Uh-huh. You get that out of one of the Institute's brochures?”

“How did you guess?” She watched a woman dressed in flowing robes deal from a pack of tarot cards. “But it's true, you know. Humans have been into metaphysics one way or another for eons. Probably part of what makes us human.”

“I'll stick to spreadsheets and laptops.”

She glanced at him. “What makes you think your business software isn't just another form of metaphysics?”

He eyed her. “You're joking, right?”

“Maybe.” She smiled. “Maybe not. Think about it.
You use your business applications programs to give yourself the illusion of control, don't you?”

“It's not an illusion, it
is
a form of control.”

“Hah. If that were true, no business today would go bankrupt. All CEOs and corporate honchos would make the right decisions all the time. There would be no surprises when the Asian markets fluctuate or when the dollar goes soft. This fancy computer I'm toting around for you is nothing more than our generation's version of the old alchemists' equipment.”

“Come off it, Alexa. You're too smart to actually believe in any of this garbage.”

She looked around at the milling fair crowds. “You don't have to believe in something in order to respect the power it generates.”

He paused to sweep the crowd with a considering glance. “Okay, you've got me there. Anything or anyone who can attract this many people and their money has power.”

“And you don't have to believe in something to respect the impulse that prompts belief in others,” Alexa concluded softly. “The bottom line, Trask, is that we don't have all the answers.”

He raked a psychic reading booth with a disapproving glance. “You're right. But no one is going to find them by going to a fortune-teller.”

“That may be true.” She smiled. “On the other hand, sometimes it's fun to get your fortune told. Ever tried it?”

“Hell, no. If I want to read my fortune, I pick up a copy of the
Wall Street Journal.”

“That certainly sounds entertaining.”

“I suggest we move on to a different topic,” Trask said evenly. “Give
me a rundown on which Dimensions building houses what.”

“All right.” She looked up at the brightly lit glass walls of the Institute's structures. “The large one in the center is the main seminar complex. As I told you, it's divided into classrooms and offices.”

“Anything else in there?”

“It's been several months since I was last inside.” She tried to recall the exact layout. “There's a reception desk in the lobby area. And a bookstore that stocks a lot of metaphysical titles and the Dimensions publications.”

“What's the long, low building to the left?”

Alexa glanced at the structure nestled into the hillside. “That's where the people who come here on retreat stay.”

“Basically, it's a hotel.”

She nodded. “Right. A pretty pricey one at that.”

“You said Bell's home is here on the grounds?”

“It's that house on the hill just above the retreat. The building with all the glass.”

“Got it.”

Something whispered across the back of Alexa's neck. Instinctively she glanced over her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the jester again. He disappeared behind a booth before she could get a close look.

Trask looked at her. “Something wrong?”

“I don't know.” She shrugged her shoulders to loosen the tension coalescing there. “Ever have the feeling that you were being watched?”

“Yeah.” He gave her an enigmatic look. “Are you telling me you've got that kind of feeling now?”

“Yes.
Sort of ridiculous. After all, we're surrounded by a few thousand people. Of course someone is bound to be looking at us at any given moment.”

“There's a difference between having someone look at you and having someone watch you,” he said quietly.

“I'm sure it's just my imagination.”

Trask said nothing.

“Trask?”

“Okay, I'm feeling a little weird, also.”

“The guy with the flute?”

“You noticed him too?”

“He moved,” she said. “Perfectly normal thing for a street musician to do.”

“I'm not into this metaphysical stuff, but I do have a healthy respect for my own instincts.” He took her hand and tugged her toward another aisle of booths. “Let's see if we can get lost in this crowd.”

They threaded their way deep into a knot of people drifting slowly along a path. Alexa glanced at the man and woman next to her and noticed that they were both wearing badges that read
Tesla Lives
.

The small crowd swept them up and carried them off in a seemingly haphazard direction. A few minutes later, Alexa felt Trask's fingers tighten around her wrist. He pulled her toward the fringes of the group.

“Now what?” she asked.

“I think we lost him, assuming he was following us. But just to be on the safe side, let's get our auras read.”

“Our
auras
?”

“Why not?
You said this fortune-telling stuff was fun.”

Trask used his grasp on her wrist to haul her through the opening of a yellow and white tent. Alexa glanced at the whimsical sign and managed to read part of it.

AURAS READ AND ANALYZED

The flap fell closed behind her before she was able to make out the fine print. The interior of the tent was enveloped in gloom. A single small lamp glowed at the rear.

A woman spoke. “Ah, customers at last. About time.”

Small bells tinkled. A figure garbed in a gown shaded in a dozen hues of green rose from a green, tasseled cushion. The green silk scarves that covered her head cast her features into deep shadows.

“Came to get our auras examined,” Trask said with a stunning nonchalance.

Alexa was impressed. He sounded as if he got his aura read twice a month on a regular schedule.

“Wonderful. I've been bored all evening.” Bells chimed softly again as the woman in green motioned to two large, fringed cushions. “Please be seated.”

Alexa looked around as she sank down onto a plump cushion. “Slow night?”

“Very.” The aura reader took her seat in a graceful, practiced movement. “But that's generally the way it is in my business.”

“I'm surprised,” Alexa said. “I would have
thought that aura reading would have been a major attraction at a psychic fair.”

The veiled head inclined in agreement. “Some of my colleagues will do quite well tonight.”

“There's a huge crowd outside,” Alexa said. “How come you're not swamped with customers?”

Trask frowned as if it had just occurred to him to question the fact that they hadn't had to stand in line.

“Not everyone wants a true reading,” the aura reader said. “But that's fine by me. It takes energy to read auras, you know. I can't do a lot of them in an evening. Now, if you don't mind, I'll get rid of some of the light.”

“Why do that?” Trask asked as she reached out to turn down the small lamp.

“It's easier to see auras in darkness,” the woman said matter-of-factly. “At least for me. I can sense them in any light, but to do an accurate reading, I must have darkness.”

“Sure,” Trask said. “Everyone knows that.” He glanced back at the closed tent flap.

Alexa followed his gaze. She flinched when she saw a great, looming shadow of a man outlined against the wall of the tent. Memories of her encounter with the intruder in Liz Guthrie's house came back in a rush.