Mindbenders (4 page)

“We’re friends of Dave Monaghan,” Mr. Dulles—Max—said and waited. After a pause long enough for second thoughts, there was a working of chains and locks and the door cracked open.

 “How do you know Dave?” the man asked, looking us up and down. He was tall and creaky, with a stiffness that could have been dignity or arthritis. His hands shook holding his cigarette and his shirt was buttoned wrong, out of synch at the collar, so I bet on arthritis. “Where is he these days?”

“We should talk inside,” Max said and flashed him the look that had made my skull hot. Tauber stood up straighter all at once.

“Ah,” he said with a wry smile, “
that’s
how you know Dave,” and he pulled the door open and waved us in.

It was shabby inside, even considering the neighborhood. The furniture was clearly other people’s throwaways. The chairs, scattered around the room, needed cushions—they were all stained and torn, bits of stuffing leaking out the seams. A couple of pictures hung at Tauber’s eye level, the kind of things they sell at the 99¢ store so you can have something on your wall.

Last night’s dishes were in the sink—or maybe they just lived there full-time. A supermarket shopping cart stood in the kitchen, next to heaping plastic bags filled with cans and bottles for recycling. Tauber wandered the room, a proud man in hard times, trying to disguise his frailties. He pushed chairs into a group for us and then pulled up the shades a little, letting in some light.

“Not expecting company,” he grumbled. The radio was still playing low; he walked over and switched it off. “Keeps down the voices in my head,”  he explained—at least he seemed to think that was explaining something. He was slurring a little. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d woke up still drunk from the night before—not so long for Tauber, apparently. “So if ya came from Dave,” he said, “there’s two questions: What’d ya come for and why didn’t he come himself?”

“Dave’s dead,” Mr. Dulles said, no ceremony, just like that, and hearing it made it hurt all over again. “He was shot to death this morning.” The words passed through Tauber like a shiver—a couple shivers maybe, replaced finally by a numb stare. I couldn’t tell if shock had him or if he was just used to numb most of the time.

“Who did it?”

“The question is who sent them,” Max answered. “They were under suggestion and knew what they were doing. They torched the house—expertly—and rifled his store immediately after.”

“For what?”

“Dave kept a list of the old team.”

“It wouldn’t be much of a list,” Tauber drawled. “Not many of us left.”

“Well, I think they were after the list,” Mr. Dulles said. I was having a hard time thinking of him as Max or any other kind of first name. “Whoever they are, they’re going after the old team.”

“Ha!” Tauber cracked a laugh. “Come after me?  If they ignore me, I’ll fall apart all on my own.”

“You’ve still got power,” Mr. Dulles said. “I felt it at the door.”

“Power? For what?” Tauber responded. “I can read the crack dealer upstairs when he pays off the local cop—the cop’s got gout and a fixer-upper on the Outer Shoals but he won’t make the mortgage if his wife doesn’t stop running up the credit cards. The dealer lost some ‘merchandise’ last month—I found out who lost it for him so he gave me a couple bills but then he put two guys to watchin’ my every move for two weeks.”

“It’s still power.”

“Sure—against morons, I’m a master. Against a trained mindbender? Give me a break.” Tauber’s eyes narrowed. “Who
are
you?”

“A friend of Dave’s,” Mr. Dulles repeated.

“And him?” Tauber asked, jerking a thumb in my direction.

“He’s a vessel,” Mr. Dulles answered. “He’s Dave’s list, actually. It’s locked in his head. I can’t access it, he can’t access it, all he can give me is one name at a time.” He watched Tauber closely while explaining, the same way Tauber was watching me.

“Weird,” he said.

“I was hoping it was some procedure from the program—something you might know how to break.”

“News to me,” Tauber shook his head. “Don’t remember anything like that.”

There was a bang at the door.

“Rent!” came a nasty, snarling, gravelly voice. “Now!”

Tauber clearly didn’t want to answer the door, but the banging resumed immediately. “You told me today. Don’t think I’m forgetting about it like last month either—I’ve got it written down!” Tauber cleared his throat and opened the door.

“”Now!” she shrieked, bursting into the room. That this was a woman’s voice knocked me over—I couldn’t imagine what kind of life would have earned her that rasp. It had to have taken hours to paint her face on, not that it was worth the effort. “It was due yesterday. Where is it?” Tauber stood wavering, unsteady.

“He paid you last night,” Mr. Dulles said. “Don’t you remember?” As soon as he said it, I knew it was a lie but somehow she didn’t.

“Last night?” she said, confused. “When?” She was staring at Max now as though trying to place him.

“He gave it to you at the party, remember?” Mr. Dulles answered, speaking slowly and enunciating, his voice deepening as he went, until it sounded like he was in a tunnel. “The party in the back yard?”

Her uncertainty grew. Max was watching her closely, like he was reading the right thing to say off her face. “You were wearing…the green dress?” he offered.

“Uh—I—”

“I
liked
the green dress,” Max said. He threw her the smile of a man who’s interested. Not that this smile was any more convincing than his regular one but somehow he sold it to her. “I also liked the secret pocket inside,” he added, his smile growing. “The check’s in the pocket.”

“The…pocket…?” she said, flustered. Clearly, she expected that pocket to remain her secret. Her expression changed, a coquettish smile teasing across her kabuki face. “Were you
naughty
?” she snarled. You could see her struggling to remember—she might have forgotten a few things over the years but nothing
good
, dammit!

She stood uncertain for a long moment. I saw her touch the back of her head for a second, the same place mine went hot in the swamp.

“Go check,” Mr. Dulles said, in a voice so soft it was like I was just hearing it in my head.

 “I’ll…go check…” she repeated, her words like half a second behind his, more an echo than a reply and suddenly she was on her way out the door.

I looked around a second later and Tauber had disappeared. “It’ll take her maybe three minutes to check that pocket,” Max warned firmly in the direction of the bedroom. “And then maybe another two checking drawers and cabinets. She came home drunk so she can’t remember where she would have left it.”

“If I’d paid her,” Tauber’s voice came from the bedroom.

“If you’d paid her,” Mr. Dulles repeated. “So you’ve got about three minutes to pack.” He turned to me, disappointment on his face. “I guess we’re moving on,” he said, like he expected me to be sorry too.

Tauber emerged a minute later, zipping his overnight bag. “Not much here I can’t replace cheap,” he said, cracking the door as quietly as he could. We hustled out the front door. Max unlocked the car, Tauber folded himself into the back seat, the landlady threw open the upstairs window and started screaming and chucking stuff out the window at us but her arm was lacking.

“So where are we going?” Tauber said as we drove away. “Washington surely doesn’t give a shit.”

 “I’ll get the list together and you can decide what you want to do.”

“What we
can
do is the question,” Tauber said. “I can’t defend myself against an attack; I’m totally out o’ practice.”

“That’s up to you,” Max answered. “Dave wanted me to get you together so I’ll do that. Then you’re on your own.”

“How do you know what he wanted?”  

Max turned to me. “What’s the next nearest?”

“Miriam Fine, Durham, North Carolina” came out of my mouth like a belch, a reflex. Max reached for the glovebox; I pulled out the map and unfolded it for him.

“Miriam! Oh hell,” Tauber said. “Now we’re in for it.”

~~~~

Three

We drove for about ten miles and nobody said a thing.

“Okay, tell me what the fuck’s going on,” I burst finally.

“You don’t need to know,” Dulles said.

“They would have arrested him too.”

“Nobody’s getting arrested.”

“What the hell—I’m just a vessel anyway.” Dulles shot me a look and swiveled in his seat, which would have flipped me out if I hadn’t already seen him drive with his eyes closed.

“You’re
fortunate
to be a vessel. Everything you know about us can be used to hurt you.” He turned to Tauber. “If you’re so concerned about his welfare,
you
tell him—am I lying?”

“No,” Tauber said, his face reddening. “That’s true.”

“If they catch us at this point, you can claim you’re a hostage. Once you know what’s going on, that excuse goes out the window.”

“Why? How would they know what you told me if I don’t tell them?”

“These people would know.”

“How?”

He threw his hand in the air. “If I answer that, I have to answer the rest. It’s no good.”

“I have to know,” I said and I meant it. I’d been stuck away in the Everglades for a year or more and what was the point of knowing anything there? But now, I was loose in the world again and all that was left of the reporter I’d once been was the hunger to know. To know
what
, in this case, I hadn’t a clue—hunger’s unthinking, whether for food or sex. Or knowledge. Whatever is hidden in my sight must be uncovered. I
had
to know.

“What about the landlady? You weren’t at any party with her. You didn’t get into her dress.”

“That was a lie,” Max said, relieved that it was.

“No, it’s a lie if you knew there was a party and pretended you were there. How did you even know there was a party?”

I turned to Tauber. “Did she wear a green dress?” He nodded. “Was there a pocket inside?” He shrugged.

I turned back to Mr. Dulles. “If he doesn’t know, how do
you
? Is she some kind of enemy agent?”

Tauber burst out laughing. “God help the country that employs her.” He turned to Max. “You’ve got to let him in.”

Max scowled. “You know the answer. You got most of it while I was talking to her.”

“What do you mean?”

“What were you thinking—back then, while we were talking?”

I tried to take myself back, to recover what was going on in my head at the time. “I knew you were lying.”

“Right and that’s good,” he grinned. Most people don’t get all happy when you catch them lying, but I’d gotten over expecting anything sensible out of him. “But, after that? When I told her about the party? When I mentioned the green dress?”

“I got confused then. I couldn’t figure out—”

“Don’t do that,” he jumped. “These are rationalizations you made up after the fact. What did you think
right then
? In the moment?”

I tried to remember. I fished back for the look on the landlady’s face right then, her confusion—and for the expectant, offering expression on his face at the same time. “I was thinking…I was thinking you were reading…what to say…”

“How?” he encouraged, like he knew what was coming.

“Like you were reading it off her face.” It felt stupid to say it. It didn’t make any sense, but it was what I’d been thinking.

“Good! Except I
couldn’t
read a green dress off the expression on her face, could I?” Was he making fun of me? It wouldn’t have been the first time.

“I’m not making fun,” he added a second later and I shivered even before I realized I hadn’t said it out loud. “Gregor, you did great. You got as much of it as you could. You just explained it away instead of accepting the strangeness of what you knew.” He was giving me the stare but this time, the back of my skull was just tingling, not burning. “I couldn’t read a green dress in her expression, could I?”

“No.”

 “So where’s the only place I could have gotten it?” His eyes were as big as the moon over the Gulf, when it’s clipping the horizon, shimmering the size of a container ship.

“Just tell him,” Tauber interrupted.

“No! It’s crucial that he knows what he knows!” Mr. Dulles spit, suddenly fierce. “Don’t worry about making sense. Don’t worry about sounding foolish. You know the answer.
Know what you know
. Take ownership of what your senses are telling you, even if it flies in the face of everything you believe. Where did I get the information? Where’s the only place I
could
have gotten it?”

 “Her head.” It burped out of me the same as the agent names, the same way I’d known where the box was in Dave’s office—autopilot, no thought behind the words, presentation before understanding.

“That’s it,” he said. “You’ve got it,” as though everything was settled.

“Got what? What have I got?”

“We read minds, son,” Tauber answered, with a weary smile. “It’s what they paid us for, for a while.”

“Oh, come on,” I moaned. It was such a comedown, after thinking they were going to explain. Tauber shrugged so I turned back to Mr. Dulles. “Okay, fine—read my mind,” I demanded.

“Jesus, give me a break, I’m not a carnival barker.” I just stared back. If he could read minds, let him do it or shut up.

“Okay, you’re thinking that I can’t read your mind, of course. You’re thinking you never trusted me, even when I hung around Dave’s because I wouldn’t play cards and I didn’t really take part in things. You’re thinking about the Burger King billboard when we got off the highway—you’re not really hungry but you want a Double Whopper with Cheese anyhow. There’s a part of your mind that’s singing ‘I Want to be Sedated’ and there’s a part that’s still in Fallujah, in a firefight. The machine guns and rockets are echoing in the background behind everything else.”

“I’m not in Fallujah,” I said but he turned back to driving without a reply. It took a few seconds to hear them—the guns, the rockets, the shouting and screaming and all the rest, everything he’d described, all there, all at once, once I listened. I realized I didn’t really listen a whole lot. Especially to the Fallujah part. I didn’t
want
to listen to that.