Hidden in Dreams (23 page)

Elena asked, “Are we secure at your end?”

“This is the phone for a café in the ground floor of my building.”

“Reed says we shouldn’t use any phone a second time.”

“This is the man who called earlier on my private line, yes? Do I recognize his name?”

“Reed Thompson was formerly chief of the White House Council of Economic Advisers.”

“Of course. He believes the threat is real?”

“More with every passing hour.”

Agatha Hune released a breath. In the background came the clatter of dishes. “That is very reassuring.”

“Can you run a check through official channels without it coming back to you?”

There was a moment’s pause, then, “Theoretically, yes.”

“We need to know if there have been any unexplained deaths
over the past two or three weeks within the ranks of senior international bank executives.”

“You need to be more specific. What banks?”

“I have no idea. Big. Regional powerhouses.”

“Any specific symptoms I should be looking for?”

“Unexplained seizures. Heart failure. Possibly diagnosed as an epileptic attack.”

There was a pause, then, “Like the dreamer in France.”

“That’s right.”

“Drug related?”

“If we’re right, autopsy and blood work will have come back clean.”

“Other than establishing a pattern, why is this important? Vague evidence will only take us so far, and the clock is ticking.”

“If this is a scam where dream manipulation plays a role, we are talking about a drug whose impact on the patient is so powerful it dominates their most basic subconscious urges. It would be logical to assume, well . . .”

“They could also induce deadly seizures.”

Elena fought down the stomach-churning queasiness. “We need to hurry.”

“I am all too aware of the time pressure. Are you done at your end?”

“Yes.”

“Because I have an issue of my own.”

“I thought you might.”

“Jacob Rawlings wants to hypnotize me. Apparently on your instructions.”

“That’s correct.”

“I dislike the idea intensely. Especially given everything else that is happening. It smacks of just more mental exploitation.”

“Jacob will give you very specific instructions. All to do with
supplying us with crucial evidence. He will instruct you to override other commands and
remember
.”

Agatha was silent.

Elena went on, “If SuenaMed is manipulating our dream states, they must begin with commands to forget we have been told anything. There also has to be something they use as a trigger. I have these vague recollections of a faceless messenger at my door.”

Agatha spoke very slowly. “All I remember is the ringing of a phone and the feeling of terrible dread. I don’t want to pick it up. But I must.”

Elena recalled the dismay and the powerlessness she had felt as she had approached the door and the messenger. “It’s highly unlikely we can override something this forceful. So we’re trying to do the next best thing.”

Agatha’s voice carried the deep tremor of a strong woman brought to the brink. “I’m so frightened.”

“I understand. So am I.” Elena fought a second surge of nausea. “But if it’s any consolation, I’m going to undergo hypnosis as well.”

•    •    •

The inland waterway was caught in the vise of another tropical deluge as Elena crossed the causeway bridge in Reed’s car. But as she entered the barrier island and turned onto the road leading north along the bayside, the pounding of rain on the car’s roof abruptly ceased. The effect was as gentle as it was jarring. To her left, the inland waterway was lost behind a dark curtain. The rain fell with such force that she could hear the constant hiss through her closed window. To her right, the fading light of day illuminated a world of brilliant hues. Water cascaded from every roof, every leaf. The air was impossibly clear. She rolled down her window and savored the humid rush of fragrances.

The church parking lot was almost empty. Elena locked Reed’s car and followed his directions to the church offices. Bob Meadows, Jacob’s former roommate, was waiting for her in the lobby. Elena greeted him, then told the receptionist that Reed Thompson had called. The woman smiled, assured them everything was arranged, and led them down to an empty office.

When Elena had shut the door, she said, “Sorry about the subterfuge.”

“I’m still having nightmares over getting shot at.” His pudgy chin wavered slightly as he tried for a smile. “How are you, Elena?”

“Pressured. Worried. But calm.” She imagined her own smile was hardly more genuine. “That probably sounds schizophrenic.”

“It sounds like a woman holding up under intense pressure.”

“I am. Both the pressure and the holding up,” she confirmed. “Thanks to the prayers of a lot of good people.”

“How do you want to do this?”

“To be honest, I’ve never been hypnotized before.”

“I have a good deal of experience, as I told you on the phone. I find hypnosis can be useful in dealing with certain issues. Why don’t you sit on the sofa there, in case you feel a need to lie down.” He pulled over a chair. “I was not able to convince Senator Suarez to participate. Hardly a surprise. His character is defined by maintaining control.”

“Which is no doubt why these experiences have left him perpetually angry.”

This time his smile came easier. “It would hardly be professional of me to say that a certain patient has been angry since birth. Are you comfortable?”

“Yes. Thank you for coming.”

“To be honest, I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind. I was happy you asked. It’s good to be able to do more.” He
pushed the coffee table to one side and pulled his chair in closer. “Though I was surprised you didn’t ask Jacob.”

“He needed to get back to Atlanta.”

“Yes. So he said.” He extracted a gold watch from his pocket. “He also said you had taken up with another gentleman. Jacob actually sounded jealous.”

“A pocket watch? Are you serious?”

“The tried and true works best sometimes. And you have just changed the subject.”

“When I was in Atlanta, I asked Jacob to pray with me. He refused.”

“A world of answers in those simple words.” Bob shook his head. “Jacob has spent his whole life fighting to have his way. This entire episode has been harder on him than you can possibly imagine.”

Elena heard the man’s apologetic tone, and said, “You are a good friend, Bob.”

“I try to be.”

“I’m sorry for all the trouble we’ve caused you. But I’m glad Jacob brought you into this.”

“I’m glad too. Very glad. I mean that sincerely.” He wound the watch in slow, smooth motions. As he did, the engraved gold face caught the light and flickered in Elena’s eyes. “It’s remarkable how much has been packed into the past few days, isn’t it? So many things to work through. It makes you so very tired, doesn’t it? I imagine you would like to just set all those thoughts and concerns aside for a while. And the travel, down to Miami and up to Atlanta and to and from the university where you teach. You’re still teaching, aren’t you, Elena?”

“Yes. And there’s Orlando.” She felt as though her tongue was thickening, making the words hard to form.

“Orlando, of course. So much travel. And so many thoughts. All of them whirring about, leaving you so tired at times. There’s
nothing you’d like more than to set all these thoughts and concerns aside, and just relax, relax, relax . . .”

Elena wanted to tell him that the watch was spinning so hard he was going to drop it. But suddenly she was unable to shape the thoughts, much less the words.

23

T
he retired female police officer settled herself comfortably on Elena’s screened porch. “Great view.”

Reed had told Elena that the woman had been in the Sunday school class, but she did not remember her. “I can’t thank you enough for coming.”

“I’ve been watching the evening news and feeling more helpless than I have since my husband became ill that last time. It’s good to have a role to play.”

Dorothy was in her late sixties and heavyset in the manner of a woman who valued her own strength. Elena found her presence very reassuring. “I’m afraid you’re in for a very boring night.”

“I’ve been on more stakeouts than you’ve had hot dinners.” She pulled knitting needles and yarn from her bag. “You just go get ready for bed.”

“You know where the tea and cups are.”

“I’ll be fine.” The needles clicked a moment. “Those bodyguards hovering around the entrance to your complex, they’re yours?”

“They are assigned to me, but by other people.”

“Are they part of the problem?”

“I wish I knew.”

Dorothy nodded, as though she had expected nothing less. “You go get some sleep. Nobody’s getting in here tonight.”

•    •    •

The dream came soon after she shut her eyes, or so it seemed the next morning. The sensation Elena carried from sleep was as strong as after every other dream. But this morning there was no dread. No screams that sawed at the pre-dawn light. Only bliss.

The problem was, the hypnosis had not worked. Elena recalled nothing whatsoever. Nothing, that is, except the dream itself.

She lay and stared at the ceiling and felt new tendrils of doubt swirl about her. What if the dreams were genuine? What if she and the other dreamers shared real moments of foretelling? What if they had somehow managed to pierce the veil of now? What if her entire investigation was not merely wrong, but dangerous? What if the divine hand was truly at work, and she was the one seeking to wrest control back to a human level? What if God did not respond to her prayers because he had already said everything he intended?

When she emerged from the bedroom, the retired police officer stood in the kitchen alcove. “Coffee?”

“Yes, thank you.” Seldom had the fresh-brewed coffee aroma smelled better.

Dorothy handed Elena a mug. “Everything was quiet out here.”

Elena poured milk from the little pitcher. The fog resulting from the dream might have been more pleasant than on other such mornings. But the sense of disconnect was just the same, if not stronger. Elena stared across the living room and out past the
screened porch to where the water sparkled. The dream seemed more real than her own kitchen. “Thank you again. For being here.”

“No problem.” Dorothy refreshed her own mug. “The only thing stirring last night was you.”

Elena paused with the mug halfway to her mouth. “Excuse me?”

Dorothy asked, “Do you sleepwalk?”

The words created a jarring discord in her brain. “I’m sorry, what?”

“You’re right. It’s none of my business.”

“No, that’s not . . .” Elena drank from the mug, set it down, and used both hands to rub her face. “Why would you ask if I sleepwalk?”

“Well, you popped up about an hour after you lay down. I thought maybe you’d heard something. I called out, but you didn’t respond.”

“I don’t remember any of that.”

“No, I guess you wouldn’t. Don’t suppose you remember picking your phone up off the table by the lamp there and carrying it into the bathroom.”

“I . . . What?” Elena excused herself and padded back into the bathroom. There it was, her cell phone set on the little ledge above the sink. She picked it up, turned it on, and drew up the last number dialed. The screen was blank. It showed no numbers at all. Elena did not have a landline. She used this phone all the time. But the screen showed nothing. She tried to remember if this had happened before. But her mind seemed incapable of focusing.

•    •    •

Reed Thompson drove her into Orlando. He waved aside her concern over his missed appointments and did not speak as she described the dream and the phone and the lingering sense of disconnect.

When she had finished, Elena asked, “Is that possible? Can you sweep a phone’s memory clean?”

“If you’re asking, could I personally do it, the answer is definitely not. I have trouble switching mine on.”

“Could anyone?”

“Theoretically, outsiders can do just about anything except make a phone stand up and bark. Just before the Beijing Olympics, the Chinese perfected a new parasite software that rode a cell phone signal into any phone and turned it into a locator beacon. Since then, new programs have been designed to alert a secret listener every time the phone makes a call. It also sends a duplicate text message to a third party.”

Elena continued to rub her face, trying to press her brain into a semblance of alertness. “My head feels scrambled.”

“Can hypnotism do that?”

Even trying to remember her professional studies was a trial. “Not in principal.”

“But if the hypnotic orders seek to override something more deeply embedded, something stronger, what then?”

“I suppose . . . it might make the subject feel exactly as I do.”

“So let’s just review what we know.”

“We don’t
know
anything at all,” Elena groaned. “And that’s the problem.”

“Bear with me a minute. Say some unknown enemy uses the phone to send instructions, tell the dreamer what to experience. And at the end of that call, they give instructions about the next time.”