“Unlike most stimulants, MDA does not increase motor activity. It suppresses it in a remarkable way. Inhibitions normally present in group situations are reduced(although it can have an opposite effect on a small percentage of users, causing paranoia).
“In group MDA experiences, people typically want to explore mutual touching and the pleasures of physical closeness. Even a group of strangers may feel very loving toward one another. They describe a ‘warm glow’ that radiates gradually into the penis or clitoris, but the experience is not always explicitly sexual because MDA tends to decrease the desire for orgasm.
"Some subjects, however, feel it heightens the sexual experience because pleasurablesensations do not end abruptly with orgasm…”
After several seconds, Beryl said, “My God, that describes exactly the way I felt. Sort of dreamy and unreal. I loved everybody. And the part about people in groups, the way they behave…” She hesitated. “Did you tell Shay about this?”
“I’ll print it out. I may drop it at the hospital tomorrow-or you can give it to her. We need to make sure she’s strong enough.”
Beryl read the article again. “Those damn little manipulators. I suspected, but it’s so obvious now. You know what’s most humiliating? That night in the swimming pool, with this guy-a stranger. A sort of weaselly kid, really. For the first time, I… I-” She turned away, then shook her head and made a growling sound. “-I’m too mad to talk about it.”
“No need.”
She said it again. “They drugged us.”
“I think it’s probable.”
“It would explain a lot. In the pool, it was never like that with Elliot. It was always routine with him, more like exercise. Never really… exciting. And all because of some damn drug?” Now she sounded unconvinced. Or disappointed.
I said, “My friend, the hippie-looking guy, he says a drug can’t give you anything you didn’t bring to the party. You felt what you felt.”
“But they used me-all four of us. Like those sick blow-up dolls they sell at sex shops. If that was all they did, it wouldn’t bother me so much. But now they’re making a small fortune off us, too, while they ruin our lives. Ford? They’re not going to get away this. I won’t let them get away with it. You have to let me help.”
Her hand was on my shoulder now. I put my hand on hers-comforting, but also to free myself. “You already have. Get dressed while I shower. It’s late.”
As I opened the screen door, Beryl stopped me, saying, “Can I ask you something? The video-where is it?”
Before I could answer, she added, “What I’m thinking is, it would be smart to watch it-for information. You’ll know what the guys look like instead of just descriptions. And personally? I’d like to find out if we really were drugged, or just drunk and high. I’ll know from the way we act.”
I said, “Even if you were serious, I don’t have a TV.”
“If it’s a cassette tape, won’t it play through a video camera? I have a little Sony in the car that we use at the resort. It plugs into a computer monitor.”
I looked at her until she added, “I am serious. I’m willing to watch. We’re both adults, for God’s sake, and if we can learn something, isn’t it kind of adolescent not to have a look?”
Her breathing had changed again. Mine, too, as I watched her combing fingers through wet hair, head back, neck exposed. Blue eyes brighter now as her skin flushed.
Instead of asking, Without permission from the other girls?, I heard myself reply, “Maybe. Think it over while I shower-” But then I stopped when I heard a distinctive bong-bong-bong chiming in the next room.
A phone was ringing. My government-issue satellite phone. Someone had reactivated it.
When I answered, a male voice said, “Don’t talk, just listen. I’m doing this for a dear, departed lady, not for you.” He sounded like a robot that had inhaled helium because the voice was digitally scrambled.
It was Bernie Yager. By referring to his sister, Eve, he sent a message that also confirmed his identity.
The computerized voice said, “There’s a place nearby that’s safer. Go now. Order a drink. Five minutes.”
He hung up.
I stood for a moment, looking dumbly at the phone. Did he mean the 7-Eleven on Tarpon Bay Road? I’d used the pay phone there before. No. ..
Order a drink.
No… he meant Sanibel Grille. It was closer than the 7-Eleven, only a couple hundred yards from the marina entrance. The bar was open until 1 a.m. The year before, I’d called him from there. Bernie would’ve saved the number.
I pulled on a shirt, traded sandals for boat shoes, then poked my head into the lab. Beryl smiled from the computer desk until I told her, “I’ve got to go-but I won’t be long. Fifteen minutes. Twenty-five at the most.”
Her smile faded. “You’re kidding.”
“It’s a business emergency-sort of.”
She stood, reknotting the towel. “Was it Shay? I bet it was Shay-”
“No. It’s business. That’s the truth. Twenty minutes-I promise. I’ve got to go.”
I heard Beryl say, “Marine biologist. Right,” as I went down the steps.
Exactly four minutes later, I was reaching for the door at Sanibel Grille when Matt, the owner, came out with the portable phone, and said, “So you are here. It’s some guy asking for you.”
I took the phone to a private spot on the balcony before putting it to my ear. “Bernie?”
“No. Just listen.”
It was Bernie. His real voice now.
I listened to him say, “The trouble your friends are having can be traced to a health resort on the island you mentioned. The Hooded Orchid Retreat and Spa. Got that? Don’t answer.”
He repeated the name twice, before adding, “Take a lot of money ’cause it’s expensive. Exclusive, too-the place is booked way in advance. Which is why someone took the liberty of pulling some strings and holding a reservation. If you think it’s the right move, check-in’s Tuesday morning. You’re booked through Sunday. But don’t be surprised if they’re a little confused because of a glitch in their computer system.”
I could guess what that meant, but I said, “I can’t wait until Tuesday-”
“Then work it out for yourself. Or cancel. Understand what I’m telling you-Dr. North?”
One of my bogus passports identifies me as Marion W. North. The middle initial had once been significant. It defined my operative boundaries. The W stood for world, as in World License.
I said, “I understand,” and noticed car lights on the marina’s shell road. A Volvo convertible.
“This place, I don’t even want to guess what they pretend to heal. It’s couples only. So you’ve got to take a girlfriend. You’ve also got to take a dinner jacket, ’cause it’s fancy.”
I said slowly, “A girlfriend,” watching the car. It was at the four-way stop now, brights on, no turn signal even though it turned left, tires kicking shell, then squealing as they hit asphalt.
Bernie said, “Yes, a girlfriend or a wife-unless you changed teams all of a sudden, ’cause it’s gotta be you and a partner. No singles without special permission. One more thing, Dr. North-the instrument that was deactivated. Get rid of it. The thing has ears-understand?”
The satellite phone. It was a passive monitor. Not that anyone could’ve heard much, locked away in the floor. Still…
As I watched Beryl speed away in her Volvo, top down, I said, “Thanks. I’ll let you know how it goes.”
Bernie was already gone.
A beautiful predator…
That’s what I was thinking-about sea jellies, not about Beryl, although maybe it applied. Same for Kathleen Rhodes and Shay. A secret predaceous creature lives within us all-A voice that whispers, Shay described it. Women mask it more expertly than men because fifty thousand years of misogyny have encoded patience.
I called Beryl’s cell. No answer. I didn’t leave a message. While waiting to try again, I was looking at the jellyfish where the woman’s finger had streaked the aquarium glass.