Black House Chapter Twenty

20AROUND THE TIME Mouse and Beezer initiatory fail to see the little road and the NO TRESPASSING sign be perspective it, hoot sawyer beetle answers the aggravator signal of his cell ph unmatched, hoping that his c solelyer vanquish emerge turn reveal to be atomic consequence 1 Leyden with breeding much than or less the voice on the 911 memorialise. Although an identification would be wonderful, he does not expect total heat to I.D. the voice the black cat?CBurnside is Potsies age, and zany does not suppose the old villain has much of a social life, here or in the Territories. What Henry stub do, however, is to apply his finely tuned ears to the nuances of Burnsides voice and describe what he collars in it. If we did not d self-coloredsome that poops faith in his friends capacity to hear distinctions and patterns inaudible to new(prenominal) large emergence was justified, that faith would search as irrational as the belief in magic Jack trusts that a refreshe d, invigorated Henry Leyden pass on plunge up at least one or devil crucial enlarge of history or character that will narrow the search. Any intimacy that Henry picks up will interest Jack.If somebody else is concern him, he intends to get rid of whoever it is, fast.The voice that answers his greeting revises his plans. Fred marsh wholly wants to trounce to him, and Fred is so provoke up and incoherent that Jack moldiness ask him to slow down and start tot all in ally over.Judys flipping step to the fore again, Fred enunciates. middling . . . babbling and raving, and acqui scream crazy homogeneous before, trying to rip by dint of the breakwaters oh God, they ensnare her in restraints and she hates that, she wants to care Ty, its all because of that attach measure. Christ, its getting to be in either case much to heaple, Jack, Mr. sawyer beetle, I mean it, and I know Im racetrack score at the m outh, and Im truely worried.Dont tell me someone sent her the 9 11 memorialize, Jack says.No, not . . . what 911 tape? Im talking approximately the one that was delivered to the hospital today. Addressed to Judy. Can you suppose they let her see to that thing? I want to strangle Dr. Spiegle populace and that nurse, Jane adherence. Whats the matter with these people? The tape surveils in, they say, oh goody, heres a nice tape for you to listen to, Mrs. marshal, hold on, Ill be undecomposed back with a cassette pretender. On a mental ward? They dont so far some(prenominal)er to listen to it first? Look, whatever youre doing, Id be eternally grateful if youd let me pick you up, so I could drive you over there. You could talk to her. Youre the scarcely somebody who can calm her down.You dont fetch to pick me up, because Im already on the way. What was on the tape?I dont get it. Fred marshall has be go into considerably more lucid. Why are you passing game there without me? After a second of thought, Jack tells him an out respectable l ie. I thought you would in all probability be there already. Its a pity you werent.I would adopt had the sense to sieve that tape before letting her hear it. Do you know what was on that thing?The fisherman, Jack says.How did you know?Hes a gravid communicator, Jack says. How bad was it?You tell me, and whence well twain know. Im piecing it together from what I garner from Judy and what Dr. Spiegleman told me later. Fred marshals voice begins to waver. The Fisherman was taunting her. Can you believe that? He said, Your little boy is very lonely. whence he said something bid, Hes been begging and begging to call home and say hello to his mommy. Except Judy says he had a weird foreign accent, or a speech impediment, or something, so he wasnt aristocratic to understand right away. Then he says, Say hello to your mommy, Tyler, and Tyler . . . Freds voice breaks, and Jack can hear him stifling his agony before he begins again. Tyler, ah, Tyler was apparently a comparable dist ressed to do much save scream for help. A yearn, un received inhalation comes over the phone. And he cried, Jack, he cried. Un up to(p) to contain his feelings whatsoever longer, Fred weeps openly, unguardedly. His breath rattles in his throat Jack listens to all the wet, undignified, helpless noises people book when grief and sorrowfulness cancel every other feeling, and his heart moves for Fred marshall.The sobbing relents. Sorry. sometimes I debate theyll aim to define me in restraints.Was that the end of the tape?He got on again. Fred breathes noisily for a moment, clearing his head. Boasting approximately what he was divergence to do. Dere vill be morrr mur-derts, and morrr afder dat, Choo-dee, we are all goink zu haff sotch fun Spiegleman quoted this junk to me The children of French Landing will be harvested homogeneous wheat. Havv-uz-ted corresponding wheed. Who talks like that? What kind of individual is this?I wish I knew, Jack says. Maybe he was putting on an accent to sound even scarier. Or to camouflage his voice. Hed never disguise his voice, Jack thinks, hes too de absolveded with himself to hide behind an accent. Ill have to get the tape from the hospital and listen to it myself. And Ill call you as in brief as I have some nurture.Theres one more thing, Marshall says. I probably make a mis wee-wee. Wendell Green came over about an second ago.Anything involving Wendell Green is automatically a mistake. So what happened?It was like he knew all about Tyler and just demand me to confirm it. I thought he must have heard from Dale, or the state troopers. barely Dale hasnt made us public yet, has he?Wendell has a ne bothrk of little weasels that feed him information. If he knows everything, thats how he heard about it. What did you tell him?More or less everything, Marshall says. Including the tape. Oh, God, Im such a dope. provided I thought itd be all right I thought it would all get out anyhow.Fred, did you tell him anythin g about me?Only that Judy trusts you and that were both grateful for your help. And I think I said that you would probably be going in to see her this afternoon.Did you mention Tys baseball cap?Do you think Im dotty? As far as Im concerned, that stuff is between you and Judy. If I dont get it, Im not going to talk about it to Wendell Green. At least I got him to promise to stay away from Judy. He has a great reputation, still I got the feeling he isnt everything hes cracked up to be.You said a mouthful, Jack says. Ill be in touch.When Fred Marshall hangs up, Jack punches in Henrys number.I may be a little late, Henry. Im on my way to French County Lutheran. Judy Marshall got a tape from the Fisherman, and if theyll let me have it, Ill beget it over. Theres something strange going on here on Judys tape, I guess he has some kind of foreign accent.Henry tells Jack there is no rush. He has not listened to the first tape yet, and now will rest until Jack comes over with the second o ne. He might hear something useful if he plays them in sequence. At least, he could tell Jack if they were made by the aforementioned(prenominal) man. And dont worry about me, Jack. In a little while, Mrs. Morton is orgasm by to take me over to KDCU. George Rathbun only whenters my bread today, baby six or septenary radio ads. Even a blind man knows you want to treat your honey, your sweetheart, your lovey-dovey, your wife, your best friend finished thick and thin, to a mm-mmm fine dinner tonight, and theres no better place to show your appreciation to the old ball and chain than to take her to Cousin Buddys Rib Crib on South Wabash Street in beautiful downtown La Riviere The old ball and chain?You pay for George Rathbun, you get George Rathbun, warts and all.Laughing, Jack tells Henry he will see him later that day, and pushes the Ram up to seventy. What is Dale going to do, give him a speeding book?He parks in front of the hospital instead of driving just about to the park ing lot, and trots across the concrete with his mind filled with the Territories and Judy Marshall. Things are hurtling forward, picking up pace, and Jack has the sense that everything converges on Judy no, on Judy and him. The Fisherman has chosen them more purposefully than he did his first three victims Amy St. Pierre, Johnny Irkenham, and Irma Freneau were simply the right age any three children would have done however Tyler was Judy Marshalls son, and that set him apart. Judy has glimpsed the Territories, Jack has traveled through them, and the Fisherman lives there the way a cancer cell lives in a healthy organism. The Fisherman sent Judy a tape, Jack a grisly present. At Tansy Freneaus, he had seen Judy as his appoint and the gatestep it opened, and where did that adit lead barely into Judys Faraway?Faraway. God, thats pretty. Beautiful, in event.Aaah . . . the word evokes Judy Marshalls confront, and when he sees that face, a introduction in his mind, a brinks tep that is his and his alone, flies open, and for a moment Jack Sawyer stops piteous altogether, and in shock, dread, and joyous expectation, freezes on the concrete six feet from the hospitals entrance.Through the door in his mind pours a stream of disconnected images a stalled Ferris wheel, Santa Monica cops milling behind a strip of yellow crime-scene tape, light reflected off a black mans bald head. Yes, a bald mans black head, that which he in reality and truly, in fact roughly desperately, had not wished to see, so take a good look, frydo, here it is again. There had been a guitar, but the guitar was elsewhere the guitar belonged to the magnificent demanding comforting comfortless Speedy Parker, God bless him God damn his eyeball God love him Speedy, who touched its strings and sangTravelin Jack, ole Travelin Jack,Got a far long way to go, extended way to come back.Worlds spin around him, worlds within worlds and other worlds alongside them, separated by a thin membrane composed of a thousand thousand doors, if only you know how to find them. A thousand thousand red feathers, tiny ones, feathers from a robin redbreast, hundreds of robin redbreasts, flew through one of those doors, Speedys. Robin, as in robins-egg blue air, thank you, Speedy, and a song that said Wake up, bestir up, you sleepyhead.Or Wake up, wake up, you DUNDERHEADCrazily, Jack hears George Rathbuns now-not-so genial roar Eeeven a BLIIIND MAAAN coulda seen THIS one coming, you KNOTHEADOh, yeah? Jack says out loud. It is a good thing Head Nurse Jane Bond, shielden Bond, Agent OO Zero, cannot hear him. Shes tough, but on the other hand, shes unfair, and if she were to have the appearance _or_ semblance beside him now, she would probably rush him in irons, sedate him, and drag him back to her domain. Well, I know something you dont know, old buddy Judy Marshall has a Twinner, and the Twinner has been whispering through the wall for a considerable old time now. Its no surprise s he finally started to shout.A red-haired teenager in an ARDEN H.S. BASEBALL T-shirt shoves open the literal door six feet from Jack and gives him a wary, disconcerted look. Man, grown-ups are weird, the look says arent I glad Im a kid? Since he is a high school student and not a mental-health professional, he does not clap our hero in irons and drag him sedated away to the padded room. He simply takes care to engineer a wide course around the madman and keeps walking, albeit with a touch of self-conscious stiffness in his gait.It is all about Twinners, of course. Rebuking his stupidity, Jack raps his knuckles against the side of his head. He should have seen it before he should have understood immediately. If he has any excuse, it is that at first he refused to think about the case contempt Speedys efforts to wake him up, then became so caught up in concentrating on the Fisherman that until this morning, while watching his stick on the Sand Bars big TV, he had neglected to consid er the monsters Twinner. In Judy Marshalls childhood, her Twinner had spoken to her through that membrane between the twain worlds increase more and more alarmed over the past month, the Twinner had all but thrust her fortification through the membrane and shaken Judy senseless. Because Jack is single-natured and has no Twinner, the corresponding task miss to Speedy. Now that everything seems to make sense, Jack cannot believe it has taken him so long to see the pattern.And this is why he has resented everything that kept him from standing before Judy Marshall Judy is the doorway to her Twinner, to Tyler, and to the destruction of both the Fisherman and his opposite number in the Territories, the builder of the satanic, fiery structure a crow named Gorg showed Tansy Freneau. Whatever happens on cellblock D today, it is going to be world-altering.Heart thrumming in anticipation, Jack passes from intense sunlight into the vast chromatic space of the lobby. The uniform bathrobed patients seem to occupy the many chairs in a distant corner, the said(prenominal) mendeleviums debate a troublesome case or, who knows, that tricky tenth hole at Arden Country Club the same golden lilies raise their luxuriant, attentive heads outside the gift shop. This repetition reassures Jack, it hastens his step, for it surrounds and cushions the unforeseeable events awaiting him on the fifth floor.The same bored clerk responds to the proffer of the same password with an identical, if not the same, green card stamped VISITOR. The elevator amazingly similar to one in the Ritz H?tel on the Place Vend?me obediently trembles upwardly past floors two, three, and four, in its dowager-like progress pausing to admit a gaunt childly indemnify who summons the remembering of Roderick Usher, then releases Jack on five, where the beautiful ocher light seems a shade or two darker than down there in the huge lobby. From the elevator Jack retraces the steps he took with his guide Fred M arshall down the corridor, through the two sets of double doors and past the way stations of Gerontology and Ambulatory Ophthalmology and Records Annex, getting closer and closer to the unforeseen unforeseeable as the corridors grow narrower and darker, and emerges as before into the century-old room with high, close-fitting windows and a lot of walnut-colored wood.And there the spell breaks, for the attendant seated behind the polished counter, the someone shortly the guardian of this realm, is taller, preadolescenter, and considerably more sullen than his counterpart of the day before. When Jack asks to see Mrs. Marshall, the unfledged person glances in disdain at his VISITOR card and inquires if he should happen to be a recounting or some other glance at the card a medical professional. Neither, Jack admits, but if the young person could trouble himself to inform Nurse Bond that Mr. Sawyer wishes to direct to Mrs. Marshall, Nurse Bond is lots guaranteed to swing open th e forbidding metal doors and wave him inward, since that is more or less what she did yesterday.That is all well and good, if it happens to be true, the young person allows, but Nurse Bond is not going to be doing any door opening and waving in today, for today Nurse Bond is off duty. Could it be that when Mr. Sawyer showed up to see Mrs. Marshall yesterday he was accompanied by a family member, say Mr. Marshall?Yes. And if Mr. Marshall were to be consulted, say via the telephone, he would urge the young fellow presently discussing the matter in a commendably responsible fashion with Mr. Sawyer to admit the world promptly.That may be the case, the young person grants, but hospital regulations require that nonmedical personnel in positions such as the young persons obtain potentiality for any outside telephone calls.And from whom, Jack wishes to know, would this authorization be obtained?From the acting head nurse, Nurse Rack.Jack, who is growing a little hot, as they say, under th e collar, suggests in that case that the young person seek out the excellent Nurse Rack and obtain the required authorization, so that things might progress in the style Mr. Marshall, the patients husband, would wish.No, the young person sees no reason to pursue such a course, the reason being that doing so would represent a pitiful waste of time and effort. Mr. Sawyer is not a member of Mrs. Marshalls family whence the excellent Nurse Rack would under no circumstances grant the authorization.Okay, Jack says, wishing he could strangle this irritating pip-squeak, lets move a step up the administrative ladder, shall we? Is Dr. Spiegleman somewhere on the exposit?Could be, the young person says. Howm I supposed to know? Dr. Spiegleman doesnt tell me everything he does.Jack points to the telephone at the end of the counter. I dont expect you to know, I expect you to find out. Get on that phone now.The young man slouches down the counter to the telephone, rolls his eye, punches two nu mbered keys, and leans against the counter with his back to the room. Jack hears him muttering about Spiegleman, sigh, then say, All right, transfer me, whatever. Transferred, he mutters something that includes Jacks name. Whatever he hears in response causes him to jerk himself upright and abstract a wide-eyed look over his shoulder at Jack. Yes, sir. Hes here now, yes. Ill tell him.He replaces the receiver. Dr. Spieglemanll be here right away. The boy he is no more than twenty steps back and shoves his pass in his pockets. Youre that cop, huh?What cop? Jack says, still irritated.The one from California that came here and arrested Mr. Kinderling.Yes, thats me.Im from French Landing, and boy, that was some shock. To the whole town. Nobody would have guessed. Mr. Kinderling? ar you kidding? Youd never believe that someone like that would . . . you know, kill people.Did you know him?Well, in a town like French Landing, everybody sort of knows everybody, but I didnt really know Mr . Kinderling, except to say hi. The one I knew was his wife. She used to be my Sunday school teacher at spate Hebron Lutheran.Jack cannot help it he laughs at the incongruity of the murderers wife teaching Sunday school classes. The reminiscence of Wanda Kinderling radiating hatred at him during her husbands sentencing stops his laughter, but it is too late. He sees that he has offended the young man. What was she like? he asks. As a teacher.Just a teacher, the boy says. His voice is uninflected, resentful. She made us memorize all the books of the Bible. He turns away and mutters, Some people think he didnt do it.What did you say?The boy half-turns toward Jack but looks at the brown wall in front of him. I said, Some people think he didnt do it. Mr. Kinderling. They think he got put in jail because he was a small-town computed axial tomography who didnt know anybody out there.Thats too bad, Jack says. Do you want to know the real reason Mr. Kinderling went to prison?The boy turn s the rest of the way and looks at Jack.Because he was guilty of murder, and he confessed. Thats it, thats all. twain witnesses put him at the scene, and two other people saw him on a plane to L.A. when he told everyone he was evaporateing to Denver. After that, he said, Okay, I did it. I always wanted to know what it was like to kill a girl, and one day I couldnt stand it anymore, so I went out and killed two whores. His lawyer tried to get him off on an insanity plea, but the jury at his earshot found him sane, and he went to prison.The boy freeze offs his head and mumbles something.I couldnt hear that, Jack says.Lots of ways to make a guy confess. The boy repeats the sentence just loud enough to be heard.Then footsteps ring in the hallway, and a plump, discolour-coated man with steel-rimmed glasses and a goatee comes striding toward Jack with his hand out. The boy has turned away. The probability to convince the attendant that he did not beat a confession out of Thornberg Ki nderling has slipped away. The smiling man with the white jacket and the goatee seizes Jacks hand, introduces himself as Dr. Spiegleman, and declares it a pleasure to meet such a famous personage. (Personage, persiflage, Jack thinks.) From one step behind the doctor, a man unnoticed until this moment steps fully into sketch and says, Hey, Doctor, do you know what would be perfect? If Mr. Famous and I interview the lady together. Twice the information in half the time perfect.Jacks provide turns sour. Wendell Green has joined the party.After greeting the doctor, Jack turns to the other man. What are you doing here, Wendell? You promised Fred Marshall youd stay away from his wife.Wendell Green holds up his hands and dances back on the balls of his feet. Are we calmer today, Lieutenant Sawyer? Not inclined to use a sucker punch on the inde fattenigable iron out, are we? I have to say, Im getting a little tired of being assaulted by the police.Dr. Spiegleman frowns at him. What are you saying, Mr. Green?Yesterday, before that cop knocked me out with his flashlight, Lieutenant Sawyer here punched me in the stomach for no real reason at all. Its a good thing Im a reasonable man, or Id have filed lawsuits already. further, Doctor, you know what? I dont do things that way. I believe everything relieve oneselfs out better if we encourage with each other.Halfway through this self-serving speech, Jack thinks, Oh hell, and glances at the young attendant. The boys eyes burn with loathing. A lost cause now Jack will never persuade the boy that he did not mistreat Kinderling. By the time Wendell Green finishes congratulating himself, Jack has had a bellyful of his specious, smarmy affability.Mr. Green offered to give me a percentage of his take, if I let him sell photographs of Irma Freneaus corpse, he tells the doctor. What he is asking now is equally unthinkable. Mr. Marshall urged me to come here and see his wife, and he made Mr. Green promise not to come.Technica lly, that may be true, Green says. As an intimacyd diary keeper, I know that people often say things they dont mean and will eventually regret. Fred Marshall understands that his wifes story is going to come out sooner or later.Does he? in particular in the light of the Fishermans latest communication, Green says. This tape proves that Tyler Marshall is his fourth victim, and that, miraculously, he is still alive. How long do you think that can be kept from the public? And wouldnt you agree that the boys mother should be able to explain the situation in her own words?I refuse to be badgered like this. The doctor scowls at Green and gives Jack a look of warning. Mr. Green, I am very close to ordering you out of this hospital. I wish to discuss several matters with Lieutenant Sawyer, in private. If you and the lieutenant can work out some agreement between the two of you, that is your affair. I am certainly not going to permit a joint interview with my patient. I am in no way certai n that she should talk to Lieutenant Sawyer, either. She is calmer than she was this morning, but she is still fragile.The best way to proceed with her problem is to let her extinguish herself, Green says.You will be placid now, Mr. Green, Dr. Spiegleman says. The double chins that fold under his goatee turn a straightaway pink. He glares at Jack. What specifically is it that you request, Lieutenant?Do you have an office in this hospital, Doctor?I do.Ideally, Id like to spend about half an hour, maybe less, talking to Mrs. Marshall in a safe, quiet environment where our conversation would be completely confidential. Your office would probably be perfect. There are too many people on the ward, and you cant talk without being interrupted or having other patients listen in.My office, Spiegleman says.If youre willing. total with me, the doctor says. Mr. Green, you will please stand back next to the counter while Lieutenant Sawyer and I step into the hallway.Anything you say. Green e xecutes a mocking bow and moves lightly, with a suggestion of dance steps, to the counter. In your absence, Im sure this handsome young man and I will find something to talk about.Smiling, Wendell Green sustain his elbows on the counter and watches Jack and Dr. Spiegleman leave the room. Their footsteps click against the floor tiles until it sounds as though they have foregone more than halfway down the corridor. Then there is silence. Still smiling, Wendell about-faces and finds the attendant openly staring at him.I read you all the time, the boy says. You write real good.Wendells smiling becomes beatific. Handsome and intelligent. What a stun combination. Tell me your name.Ethan Evans.Ethan, we do not have much time here, so lets make this snappy. Do you think responsible members of the press should have access to information the public needs?You bet. And wouldnt you agree that an informed press is one of our best weapons against monsters like the Fisherman?A single, vertical bed appears between Ethan Evanss eyebrows. Weapons?Let me put it this way. Isnt it true that the more we know about the Fisherman, the better chance we have of stopping him?The boy nods, and the wrinkle disappears.Tell me, do you think the doctor is going to let Sawyer use his office?Probly, yeah, Evans says. But I dont like the way that Sawyer guy works. Hes a police brutality. Like when they hit people to make them confess. Thats brutality.I have some other(prenominal) doubtfulness for you. Two questions, really. Is there a closet in Dr. Spieglemans office? And is there some way you could take me there without going through that corridor?Oh. Evanss dim eyes momentarily shine with understanding. You want to listen.Listen and record. Wendell Green taps the pocket that contains his cassette recorder. For the good of the public at large, God bless em one and all.Well, maybe, yeah, the boy says. But Dr. Spiegleman, he . . .A twenty-dollar bill has magically appeared folded around th e second finger of Wendell Greens right hand. Act fast, and Dr. Spiegleman will never know a thing. Right, Ethan?Ethan Evans snatches the bill from Wendells hand and motions him back behind the counter, where he opens a door and says, Come on, hurry.Low lights burn at both ends of the dark corridor. Dr. Spiegleman says, I gather that my patients husband told you about the tape she received this morning.He did. How did it get here, do you know?Believe me, Lieutenant, after I saw the effect that tape had on Mrs. Marshall and listened to it myself, I tried to learn how it reached my patient. All of our mail goes through the hospitals mailroom before being delivered, all of it, whether to patients, medical staff, or administrative offices. From there, a couple of volunteers deliver it to the addressees. I gather that the package containing the tape was in the hospital mailroom when a volunteer looked in there this morning. Because the package was addressed only with my patients name, th e volunteer went to our general information office. One of the girls brought it up.Shouldnt someone have consulted you before giving the tape and a cassette player to Judy?Of course. Nurse Bond would have done so immediately, but she is not on duty today. Nurse Rack, who is on duty, fictitious that the address referred to a childhood nickname and thought that one of Mrs. Marshalls old friends had sent her some symphony to cheer her up. And there is a cassette player in the nurses station, so she put the tape in the player and gave it to Mrs. Marshall.In the gloom of the corridor, the doctors eyes take on a sardonic glint. Then, as you might imagine, all hell broke loose. Mrs. Marshall reverted to the condition in which she was first hospitalized, which takes in a range of alarm behaviors. Fortunately, I happened to be in the hospital, and when I heard what had happened, I ordered her sedated and placed in a secure room. A secure room, Lieutenant, has padded walls Mrs. Marshall h ad reopened the wounds to her fingers, and I did not want her to do any more damage to herself. Once the sedative had taken effect, I went in and talked to her. I listened to the tape. Perhaps I should have called the police immediately, but my first responsibility is to my patient, and I called Mr. Marshall instead.From where?From the secure room, with my cell phone. Mr. Marshall of course insisted on speaking to his wife, and she wanted to speak to him. She became very distraught during their conversation, and I had to give her some other mild sedative. When she calmed down, I went out of the room and called Mr. Marshall again, to tell him more specifically about the content of the tape. Do you want to hear it?Not now, Doctor, thanks. But I do want to ask you about one aspect of it.Then ask.Fred Marshall tried to imitate the way you had reproduced the accent of the man who made the tape. Did it sound like any recognizable accent to you? German, maybe?Ive been idea about that. I t was sort of like a Germanic pronunciation of English, but not really. If it sounded like anything recognizable, it was English spoken by a Frenchman trying to put on a German accent, if that makes sense to you. But really, Ive never heard anything like it.From the start of this conversation, Dr. Spiegleman has been measuring Jack, assessing him gibe to standards Jack cannot even begin to guess. His expression remains as electroneutral and impersonal as that of a traffic cop. Mr. Marshall informed me that he intended to call you. It seems that you and Mrs. Marshall have formed a rather extraordinary bond. She respects your skill at what you do, which is to be expected, but she also seems to trust you. Mr. Marshall asks that you be allowed to interview his wife, and his wife tells me that she must talk to you.Then you should have no problems with letting me see her in private for half an hour.Dr. Spieglemans smile is gone as soon as it appears. My patient and her husband have demo nstrated their trust in you, Lieutenant Sawyer, but that is not the issue. The issue is whether or not I can trust you.Trust me to do what?A number of things. Primarily, to act in the best interest of my patient. To refrain from unduly distressing her, also from giving her fictional hopes. My patient has developed a number of delusions centered on the existence of another world someways contiguous to ours. She thinks her son is being held captive in this other world. I must tell you, Lieutenant, that both my patient and her husband believe you are familiar with this fantasy-world that is, my patient accepts this belief wholly, and her husband accepts it only provisionally, on the grounds that it comforts his wife.I understand that. There is only one thing Jack can tell the doctor now, and he says it. And what you should understand is that in all of my conversations with the Marshalls, I have been acting in my unsanctioned capacity as a consultant to the French Landing Police Depa rtment and its chief, Dale Gilbertson.Your unofficial capacity.Chief Gilbertson has been asking me to advise him on his conduct of the Fisherman investigation, and two days ago, after the disappearance of Tyler Marshall, I finally agreed to do what I could. I have no official stance whatsoever. Im just giving the chief and his officers the benefit of my experience.Let me get this straight, Lieutenant. You have been misleading the Marshalls as to your familiarity with Mrs. Marshalls delusional fantasy-world?Ill answer you this way, Doctor. We know from the tape that the Fisherman really is holding Tyler Marshall captive. We could say that he is no longer in this world, but in the Fishermans.Dr. Spiegleman raises his eyebrows.Do you think this monster inhabits the same universe that we do? asks Jack. I dont, and neither do you. The Fisherman lives in a world all his own, one that operates according to fantastically detailed rules he has made up or invented over the years. With all d ue respect, my experience has made me far more familiar with structures like this than the Marshalls, the police, and, unless you have done a great deal of work with psychopathic criminals, even you. Im sorry if that sounds arrogant, because I dont mean it that way.Youre talking about profiling? Something like that?Years ago, I was invited into a special VICAP profiling unit run by the FBI, and I well-read a lot there, but what Im talking about now goes beyond profiling. And thats the understatement of the year, Jack says to himself. Now its in your court, Doctor.Spiegleman nods, slowly. The distant glow flashes in the lenses of his glasses. I think I see, yes. He ponders. He sighs, crosses his arms over his chest, and ponders some more. Then he raises his eyes to Jacks. All right. Ill let you see her. Alone. In my office. For thirty minutes. I wouldnt want to stand in the way of advanced investigative procedure.Thank you, Jack says. This will be extremely helpful, I promise you.I have been a psychiatrist too long to believe in promises like that, Lieutenant Sawyer, but I hope you succeed in rescuing Tyler Marshall. Let me take you to my office. You can wait there while I get my patient and bring her there by another hallway. Its a little quicker.Dr. Spiegleman marches to the end of the dark corridor and turns left, then left again, pulls a fat ball of keys from his pocket, and opens an unmarked door. Jack follows him into a room that looks as though it had been created by combining two small offices into one. Half of the room is taken up by a long wooden desk, a chair, a glass-topped coffee table stacked with journals, and filing cabinets the other half is dominated by a couch and the leather recliner placed at its head. Georgia OKeeffe posters decorate the walls. Behind the desk stands a door Jack assumes opens into a small closet the door directly opposite, behind the recliner and at the nub between the two halves of the office, looks as though it leads i nto an adjoining room.As you see, Dr. Spiegleman says, I use this space as both an office and a supplementary consulting room. Most of my patients come in through the waiting room, and Ill bring Mrs. Marshall in that way. Give me two or three minutes.Jack thanks him, and the doctor hurries out through the door to the waiting room.In the little closet, Wendell Green slides his cassette recorder from the pocket of his jacket and presses both it and his ear to the door. His thumb rests on the RECORD button, and his heart is racing. Once again, western Wisconsins most distinguished journalist is doing his duty for the man in the street. Too bad its so blasted dark in that closet, but being stuffed into a black hole is not the first sacrifice Wendell has made for his sacred calling besides, all he really needs to see is the little red light on his tape recorder.Then, a surprise although Doctor Spiegleman has left the room, here is his voice, asking for Lieutenant Sawyer. How did that Fre udian quack get back in without opening or stoppage a door, and what happened to Judy Marshall?Lieutenant Sawyer, I must speak to you. Pick up the receiver. You have a call, and it sounds urgent.Of course he is on the intercom. Who can be calling Jack Sawyer, and why the urgency? Wendell hopes that Golden Boy will push the telephones SPEAKER button, but alas Golden Boy does not, and Wendell must be content with hearing only one side of the conversation.A call? Jack says. Whos it from?He refused to identify himself, the doctor says. Someone you told youd be visiting Ward D.Beezer, with news of Black House. How do I take the call?Just punch the flashing button, the doctor says. Line one. Ill bring in Mrs. Marshall when I see youre off the line.Jack hits the button and says, Jack Sawyer.Thank God, says Beezer St. Pierres honey-and-tobacco voice. Hey man, you gotta get over to my place, the sooner the better. Everything got messed up.Did you find it?Oh yeah, we found Black House, all right. It didnt exactly have us. That place wants to stay hidden, and it lets you know. Some of the guys are hurting. Most of us will be okay, but Mouse, I dont know. He got something terrible from a dog bite, if it was a dog, which I doubt. Doc did what he could, but Hell, the guy is out of his mind, and he wont let us take him to the hospital.Beezer, why dont you take him anyway, if thats what he needs?We dont do things that way. Mouse hasnt stepped inwardly a hospital since his old man croaked in one. Hes twice as scare of hospitals as of whats happening to his leg. If we took him to La Riviere General, hed probably drop dead in the E.R.And if he didnt, hed never liberate you.You got it. How soon can you be here?I still have to see the woman I told you about. Maybe an hour not much longer than that, anyhow.Didnt you hear me? Mouse is dying on us. We got a whole lot of things to say to each other.I agree, Jack says. Work with me on this, Beez. He hangs up, turns to the door n ear the consulting-room chair, and waits for his world to change.What the hell was that all about? Wendell wonders. He has squandered two minutes worth of tape on a conversation between Jack Sawyer and the dumb SOB who spoiled the fritter that should have paid for a nice car and a fancy house on a bluff above the river, and all he got was worthless crap. Wendell deserves the nice car and the fancy house, has earned them thrice over, and his sense of deprivation makes him seethe with resentment. Golden Boys get everything handed to them on diamond-studded salvers, people fall all over themselves to give them stuff they dont even need, but a legendary, selfless working stiff and gentleman of the press like Wendell Green? It costs Wendell Green twenty bucks to hide in a dark, move little closet just to do his jobHis ears tingle when he hears the door open. The red light burns, the faithful recorder passes the ready tape from spool to spool, and whatever happens now is going to change everything Wendells gut, that foolproof organ, his best friend, warms with the assurance that justice will soon be his.Dr. Spieglemans voice filters through the closet door and registers on the spooling tape Ill leave you two alone now.Golden Boy Thank you, Doctor. Im very grateful.Dr. Spiegleman cardinal minutes, right? That means Ill be back at, umm, ten past two.Golden Boy Fine.The soft closing of the door, the click of the latch. Then long seconds of silence. Why arent they talking to each other? But of course . . . the question answers itself. Theyre waiting for fat-ass Spiegleman to move out of hearing range.Oh, this is just delicious, thats what this is The whisper of Golden Boys footsteps moving toward that door all but confirms the sterling reporters intuition. O gut of Wendell Green, O Instrument Marvelous and Trustworthy, once more you come through with the journalistic goods Wendell hears, the machine records, the inevitable next sound the click of the lock.Judy Marsh all Dont forget the door behind you.Golden Boy How are you?Judy Marshall Much, much better, now that youre here. The door, Jack.Another set of footsteps, another unmistakable sliding into place of a metal bolt.Soon-To-Be-Ruined Boy Ive been thinking about you all day. Ive been thinking about this.The Harlot, the Whore, the Slut Is half an hour long enough?Him With Foot In Bear side drum If it isnt, hell just have to bang on the doors.Wendell barely restrains himself from crowing with delight. These two people are in truth going to have sex together, they are going to rip off their clothes and have at it like animals. Man, talk about your pay-backs When Wendell Green is done with him, Jack Sawyers reputation will be lower than the Fishermans.Judys eyes look tired, her hair is limp, and her fingertips wear the startling white of fresh gauze, but besides registering the reconditeness of her feeling, her face glows with the clear, hard-won beauty of the imaginative strength she called upon to earn what she has seen. To Jack, Judy Marshall looks like a queen wrongly imprisoned. Instead of disguising her innate nobility of spirit, the hospital gown and the faded nightdress make it all the more apparent. Jack takes his eyes from her long enough to lock the second door, then takes a step toward her.He sees that he cannot tell her anything she does not already know. Judy completes the movement he has begun she moves before him and holds out her hands to be grasped.Ive been thinking about you all day, he says, taking her hands. Ive been thinking about this.Her response takes in everything she has come to see, everything they must do. Is half an hour long enough?If it isnt, hell just have to bang on the doors.They smile she increases the pressure on his hands. Then let him bang. With the smallest, slightest tug, she pulls him forward, and Jacks heart pounds with the expectation of an embrace.What she does is far more extraordinary than a mere embrace she lowers her he ad and, with two light, dry brushes of her lips, kisses his hands. Then she presses the back of his right hand against her cheek, and steps back. Her eyes kindle. You know about the tape.He nods.I went mad when I heard it, but direct it to me was a mistake. He pushed me too hard. Because I fell right back into being that child who listened to another child whispering through a wall. I went crazy and I tried to rip the wall apart. I heard my son screaming for my help. And he was there on the other side of the wall. Where you have to go.Where we have to go.Where we have to go. Yes. But I cant get through the wall, and you can. So you have work to do, the most important work there could be. You have to find Ty, and you have to stop the abbalah. I dont know what that is, exactly, but stopping it is your job. Am I saying this right you are a coppiceman?Youre saying it right, Jack says. I am a coppiceman. Thats why its my job.Then this is right, too. You have to get rid of Gorg and his master, Mr. Munshun. Thats not what his name really is, but its what it sounds like Mr. Munshun. When I went mad, and I tried to rip through the world, she told me, and she could whisper straight into my ear. I was so closeWhat does Wendell Green, ear and whirling tape recorder pressed to the door, make of this conversation? It is precisely what he expected to hear the animal grunts and moans of desire busily being satisfied. Wendell Green grinds his teeth, he stretches his face into a grimace of frustration.I love that youve let yourself see, says Jack. Youre an amazing human being. There isnt a person in a thousand who could even understand what that means, much less do it.You talk too much, Judy says.I mean, I love you.In your way, you love me. But you know what? Just by coming here, you made me more than I was. Theres this sort of beam that comes out of you, and I just locked on to that beam. Jack, you lived there, and all I could do was peek at it for a little while. Thats eno ugh, though. Im satisfied. You and Ward D, you let me travel.What you have inside you lets you travel.Okay, three cheers for a well-examined spell of craziness. Now its time. You have to be a coppiceman. I can only come halfway, but youll need all your strength.I think your strength is going to surprise you. evolve my hands and do it, Jack. Go over. Shes waiting, and I have to give you to her. You know her name, dont you?He opens his mouth, but cannot speak. A force that seems to come from the center of the earth surges into his body, rolling electricity through his bloodstream, tightening his scalp, sealing his vibe fingers to Judy Marshalls, which also tremble. A feeling of tremendous lightness and mobility gathers within all the hollow spaces of his body at the same time he has never been so aware of his bodys obduracy, its resistance to flight. When they leave, he thinks, itll be like a rocket launch. The floor seems to vibrate beneath his feet.He manages to look down the lengt h of his arms to Judy Marshall, who leans back with her head parallel to the shaking floor, eyes closed, smiling in a trance of accomplishment. A band of shivery white light surrounds her. Her beautiful knees, her legs shining beneath the hem of the old blue garment, her bare feet planted. That light shivers around him, too. All of this comes from her, Jack thinks, and from A rushing sound fills the air, and the Georgia OKeeffe prints fly off the walls. The low couch dances away from the wall papers swirl up from the jittering desk. A skinny halogen lamp crashes to the ground. All through the hospital, on every floor, in every room and ward, beds vibrate, television sets go black, instruments rattle in their rattling trays, lights flicker. Toys drop from the gift-shop shelves, and the tall lilies skid across the marble in their vases. On the fifth floor, light bulbs detonate into showers of golden sparks.The hurricane noise builds, builds, and with a great whooshing sound becomes a wide, white sheet of light, which immediately vanishes into a pinpoint and is gone. Gone, too, is Jack Sawyer and gone from the closet is Wendell Green.Sucked into the Territories, blown out of one world and sucked into another, blasted and dragged, man, were a hundred levels up from the simple, well-known flip. Jack is lying down, feeling up at a ripped white sheet that flaps like a torn sail. A quarter of a second ago, he saw another white sheet, one made of sensitive light and not literal, like this one. The soft, fragrant air blesses him. At first, he is conscious only that his right hand is being held, then that an astonishing woman lies beside him. Judy Marshall. No, not Judy Marshall, whom he does love, in his way, but another astonishing woman, who once whispered to Judy through a wall of night and has lately drawn a great deal closer. He had been about to speak her name when Into his field of vision moves a gentle face both like and unlike Judys. It was turned on the sam e lathe, baked in the same kiln, chiseled by the same besotted sculptor, but more delicately, with a lighter, more caressing touch. Jack cannot move for wonder. He is barely capable of breathing. This woman whose face is above him now, smiling down with a tender impatience, has never borne a child, never traveled beyond her native Territories, never flown in an airplane, operate a car, switched on a television, scooped ice ready-made from the freezer, or used a microwave and she is effulgent with spirit and inner grace. She is, he sees, lit from within.Humor, tenderness, compassion, intelligence, strength, glow in her eyes and speak from the curves of her mouth, from the very borderline of her face. He knows her name, and her name is perfect for her. It seems to Jack that he has fallen in love with this woman in an instant, that he enlisted in her cause on the spot, and at last he finds he can speak her perfect nameSophie.