The Crypt (6 page)

Sarah had listened to Parkman, had considered her options. But during their conversation she came up with an altogether different plan.

Parkman went to his room and Sarah slept. Now it was close to 5:30am. She’d left their hotel and was just now approaching the Best Western.

As far as she could tell, no one was watching the entrance. With her gone their surveillance would have been pulled. She waited for fifteen minutes, watching the vehicles passing. She checked the parked cars in the area and saw they were all empty.

Time to go. She crossed the street, stepped in the front doors and made her way through the lobby to the couch where she had stashed the gun. The night staff behind the counter had nodded at her and then turned away as she was preparing coffee. No one else was in the lobby.

Sarah grabbed a newspaper that sat on a nearby table and eased herself down beside where she’d stashed the gun.

She opened the paper and began scanning the Hungarian news even though she couldn’t read a damn thing.

One last look around the lobby confirmed no one present. She was completely alone.

With her right hand she reached down behind the cushion and into the back of the couch feeling around for the steel grip of the weapon.

Her fingers brushed something. A metal wire or the gun?

She lowered her shoulder as she half-turned and kept a watchful eye on the front desk. At this hour the hotel traffic was minimal which was one of the reasons she choose to leave her hotel at five in the morning.

Her fingers came into contact with the cop’s gun. She wrapped her hand around the butt of the weapon and began lifting it. Using her left hand she folded the newspaper in half to use it as a shield for the gun.

In one quick movement she slid the weapon out into the open and under the cover of the newspaper.

Perfect.

In that same moment a man entered the lobby from the outside. She stared at him, waiting to see his intentions. He only had a few choices. Go to the front desk and make an inquiry or walk through to the elevators. Anything other than that and her radar would be pinging.

She stood up and then stopped. Where had she seen him before? A quick look over her shoulder and she remembered. He was the man watching English and his two gypsy friends follow her the other night. He’d tipped his hat at her.

She stepped over to another couch and sat where she could watch him.

He looked like he dropped out of the fifties. As he shuffled along toward the counter, she took in his suit and spit-polished black shoes.

His beige fedora struck her as very “Cary Grant”. He looked like a 1950’s FBI agent.

She waited and watched.

He made it to the main desk. The woman stepped out from a room behind the counter with a new coffee in her hand and said something in Hungarian. From where Sarah sat watching, all she heard was a whisper of their conversation.

Fedora Man reached in his pocket and produced a wallet of some sort. He showed it to her and the woman turned from him and walked back into the room behind the counter.

Then Fedora Man spun on his heels and stared directly at Sarah.

It’s on,
she thought.
This guy is here for me.

Whatever they want to do or however long they want to do it, they will never quell her desire to exact justice on Armond. All these assholes getting in her way were only distractions.

The man started walking toward her. Sarah stayed perfectly still, the newspaper folded in her lap with the cop’s gun hidden under its shelter of ink.

One flip of the edge of the paper and she’d be arrested again as the incriminating weapon was now in her possession.

Yesterday they could prove nothing until they found the gun. She led them right to it. And then this ass waited until she had it in her hand to make his move.

Fedora Man stopped six feet from her, reached up and tipped his hat. Just like the other night.

“Good morning.”

Sarah nodded.

“May I have a seat?”

Sarah nodded again. It was killing her. Why so polite? Why not drop the ball and get on with it? She was also surprised with herself. Maybe all the years of violence and confrontations had hardened her because she didn’t feel the least bit nervous. Cops had rules they had to live by. She wasn’t going to be killed or attacked. All they could ever do was talk a lot and remove her liberties, but as O.J. proved, with enough money and a good lawyer, many liberties could be returned.

He sat across from her, adjusted his jacket and leaned back into the cushioned softness of the leather couch he occupied.

If anything, Sarah was intrigued by his entrance. There was something dangerous about him because he exuded a power only serious confidence could create. This was a man who got the job done. She didn’t know who he worked for but whoever it was they had someone solid here.

What he didn’t know was that Sarah had more confidence. There was almost nothing he could do that would surprise her. She sat poised and ready to strike at the first movement she didn’t like. He was the one who needed to be on guard. She had a weapon at the ready.

“What are you planning?”

“Excuse me?”

His English was American. She was sure of it.

“I’m a friend.”

“Then explain something to me,” she said.

He lowered his head enough to see he was attempting a slow-motion nod.

“Explain what?”

“How come I don’t know you? I know my friends. If you’re a friend, then why don’t I know you on sight?”

He lifted his head and stared at her. “Not in that sense. I’ll say it differently. I’m a friendly. This means—”

“I know what it means, but thanks anyway. Don’t need friendlies.”

“Sarah, I think you do.”

Mr. Mysterious was starting to piss her off. Sarah felt her temper rising. Playing riddle man, and acting like this dance was a game, only served her a cold plate of
fuck you
. Time to draw him out.

“Either state your business or fuck off. I’ve got some touring of the city to do before my flight back to the States.”

“You’re not going back to the States.”

“Okay, the only way you could know my personal agenda is if you’re some kind of God. Since you’re not, then you’ve got a pair a balls the size of Texas. Either tell me your business or I’m leaving, Fedora Man.”

He brought his hands together and tented them in front of his chest. He appeared to be contemplating what to tell her and what to leave out.

“Okay, Sarah, you win. My name is Rod Howley. I’m with the Sophia Project out of the University of Arizona.”

“Come again? What’s that?”

“One of our main purposes is to investigate the experiences of people who claim to channel or communicate with deceased loved ones. Our ultimate goal is to investigate if these communications can be validated under controlled conditions.”

Sarah had never heard of them before. Having spent a considerable amount of time with Dolan Ryan and Esmerelda she thought she would’ve heard of the Sophia Project. From her high school studies she knew the name Sophia meant
wisdom
, but that was the extent of it.

“I’ve never heard of you or your little group. But the important question is, why tell me?”

She knew why. They had to have gotten wind of what she’d been doing for the last five years or so and wanted to learn more from her. The proper words here were,
use her as a guinea pig
. But their timing couldn’t be worse. This was no time to be hanging around doing psychic tests while Armond was on the loose, even if she wanted to. The only way anyone would get Sarah and Vivian to perform like circus psychics was if they forced her and forcing Sarah to do anything would be a trying task.

“Sarah, we both know why I’m sitting here. You’re a very active girl. As I understand it, Vivian gives you messages and you act on them for the good of humanity. Very noble of you. But this latest job has crossed the line. We need to talk, find a resolution and continue your mission with more control involved.”

This guy knew more than she was comfortable with. Tossing Vivian’s name in to subtly display his knowledge only pissed her off further. He talked about her dead sister like she was a card being played in this game of chess he started as he strategically placed himself near a check-mate.

Wrong move asshole.

“Unless you say something to convince me to continue talking to you, I am going to stand up and walk out of here. Try to stop me. Please do. I usually wait for provocation.”

He untented his hands and showed her his palms. “I’m sorry. I can see I’m upsetting you. That wasn’t my goal.”

He paused to remove his hat. Sarah took the opportunity to scan the lobby. It remained empty as the clock behind the counter said it was coming on six in the morning. The female hotel clerk was nowhere to be seen.

“Sarah, Parapsychology research—”

“Stop using my name so freely. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. We’re strangers. It will remain that way.”

“Okay, I’m sorry.”

She could tell that was hard on him. There was something peculiar about this man. He looked like a caged raccoon. Seemingly innocent enough but get too close and he’ll attack. She decided to listen a little longer. She wasn’t psychic in the traditional sense but she could tell when someone was on the edge of a fight and Fedora Man really wanted to do some damage. It oozed off his skin. He didn’t seem comfortable sitting and discussing things. It made her think he was an interrogator and not an explainer.

“Parapsychology research is conducted in over thirty countries worldwide. The term parapsychology was first coined in or around 1889 by philosopher Max Dessoir.”

“Why the history lesson? Under other circumstances I love to learn new things but you walk in here, use my name and say you’re a friend. I ask for you to tell me what’s going on and you’re giving me a history lesson. Time is running out.”

“Fair enough. Do you expect me to take you seriously Sarah?”

Her finger itched to slide into the trigger guard of the weapon that still lay concealed on her lap.
I’ll show you just how serious I can be,
she thought.

“Absolutely. My sense of humor is like a court jester. Not seen much anymore, but when it does come around we all laugh. Today I’m serious and you should be aware that serious, by definition, actually means dangerous.”

“Then I expect you to take me seriously too. I only have a few more things to say and then you can decide.”

“Decide what?”

“Decide whether or not you will accompany me back to America where we will really do some good.”

She leaned forward slightly. “Are you saying that I’m not doing good on my own?”

“The direction this conversation is going isn’t good. Will you allow me to continue? I only need a minute more.”

Sarah leaned back and sized him up. He was American. He held no authority in Hungary. She had the gun. He only wanted to talk. She wanted to know more about the man who seemed to know a shit load about her.

She nodded for him to go ahead and then scanned the lobby again. No one around. They’d been talking for a few minutes now and no one had entered the lobby. She was starting to find that strange. If someone didn’t come through any door soon, she felt the rope of the noose would tighten.

“The Society for Psychical Research was founded in London in 1882. The American Society for Psychical Research followed suit and opened their doors in New York City in 1885. By 1911 Stanford University became the first academic institution in the United States to study extrasensory perception, better known as ESP. Finally, in 1930, Duke University followed.”

He stopped to gauge her response. She offered nothing so he continued.

“My organization usually has volunteers but sometimes we search out people who we have heard of. People who display a talent far beyond usual parameters.”

“Your organization? You mean the Sophia Project?”

Sarah looked behind him. No one in the lobby at all. The noose tightened. Something was wrong. She had to leave.

“Sort of.”

Sort of? What the fuck is that? He just said he was with the Sophia Project but now he’s sort of with them?

“You might want to qualify that comment. Do it quick. I’m about to leave.”

“I’m actually employed by the United States Government. My organization works in conjunction with the people at the University of Arizona.”

“So you’re not actually with this Sophia Project?”

“My employer is the government. I am employed to work with the people at the Sophia Project. Let’s just say I’m their recruiter.”

“While you talk in circles I’m leaving. Rarely do I meet someone who is so full of shit that they’ve lost sight of the piss they spew.” She paused for a second and wondered if he was armed. As a recruiter was he supposed to take her in? There could be no time for surprises. Not today. “Stand up.”

“You’re making a mistake. I’m the only friend you’ve got.”