"What the hell's that all about?" she asked.
"Just a precaution, Rachel," Patterson reassured her. "Not too many people know about the house we're going to. Malcolm doesn't like people he isn't sure of to know where it is. If everything's okay, you won't have to wear it on the way home."
"Okay? What the hell do you mean, okay?"
"I mean, if Malcolm likes what he sees."
"And if he doesn't? Then what?"
"Let's cut the bullshit. We're late already." The man in the back reached forward again with the blindfold as he spoke. He pulled it down over her eyes and tied a small, hard knot in the dark cloth. "That too tight?" he asked.
"Yes," Rachel answered.
"Good! Let's move it, Patterson."
The car lurched away from the curb, its wheels spinning slightly on the snowy street. After nearly an hour, Rachel had a splitting headache. The cloth was biting into her flesh and cutting off circulation. Her temples throbbed, and the back of her skull felt as if it was ready to explode.
She was about to reach up and loosen the blindfold when the hardguy in the back seat said, "Take the next left. Past those trees."
"I know. I've been here before, don't forget," Patterson snapped.
"Yeah, I know, although I don't understand why."
The other stranger, who hadn't said a word during the trip, finally spoke. "Why don't the whole lot of you shut up? You're worse than a bunch of high school kids."
"He doesn't have to talk to me like that," Patterson said.
"Nobody's saying anything until we get inside. All of you, shut the hell up!"
The car bumped into a rutted road, and Rachel could hear snow blowing through trees on either side. It was coming down a lot harder now. The wind had picked up, and the snow scratched at the roof of the car. "Here we are," Patterson announced.
"Can I take this damn thing off?" Rachel Peres asked. "Or do you want me to spin around three times first?"
The man behind her snapped her head back hard and jerked the blindfold off without bothering to untie it. The rough cloth scraped the skin as it came away.
When they were out of the car, she turned to the man and smacked him across the face. He raised a fist, but the less talkative of the two strangers caught his arm.
"Leave her alone, Bert. It won't accomplish anything."
Bert rubbed his cheek, trying to ease the sting. He glared at Rachel, but said nothing. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he wouldn't forget it.
"Let's go. I need something hot to drink," Patterson said. He sounded as eager as a Boy Scout on a camping trip.
Rachel's eyes were used to the dim light by now.
She looked around and was surprised when she couldn't see a building. Three cars and a van were parked in the clearing. Otherwise, there was nothing but trees.
Trees and snow and, off to the right, an open field sweeping uphill toward another line of trees.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"Almost there. We have to walk from here because the road's no good," Patterson told her.
Bert led the way through the snow, turning now and then to glare at Rachel over his shoulder. A half-mile trudge through the trees brought them to a large frame house sitting on a hill. It was surrounded by wide lawns, which even under a covering of snow obviously hadn't been tended in a long time.
Clumps of weeds sprouted everywhere.
Inside, the house showed the same neglect. They tossed their coats in a heap in one corner, stamped the snow from their shoes and entered a large kitchen. A huge fireplace filled an entire wall. It held a small fire, and there wasn't much heat.
The windows were glazed with ice even on the inside.
A large round table dominated the center of the room. Three men, drinking from chipped mugs, were seated around it. They ignored the newcomers. At a counter two women were talking softly. One poured coffee into several mugs identical to those already on the table.
The taller of the two, a slender blonde, winked at Bert. "You guys must be freezing," she said. "Have some coffee."
The blonde took a seat at the table. Her companion added milk and sugar to one of the mugs and carried it over to the table to sit next to one of the men.
"Who's the girl?" she asked.
"Some friend of Donny boy here," Bert said.
"Rachel Peres," Rachel said. "Nice to meet you."
"I'm Connie, and that's Alice," she answered, indicating the blonde. Pointing at each of the men in turn, she continued, "And these guys are Moe, Larry and Curly."
"Put a sock in it, Connie," Bert snapped. "Where's Malcolm?"
"Upstairs, sleeping."
"Well, wake him up. He wanted to meet this broad."
"Broad?" Connie asked, raising an eyebrow. "You been reading detective stories again, Bert?"
"Nah," Alice said. "Bert can't read, Connie. You know that!"
The three stooges at the table laughed. Bert stomped out. They could hear him climbing the stairs, cursing as he went. In a few minutes he was back, followed by a tall, gaunt man. Rachel recognized him immediately. She had seen his face on the front page more than once and had attended several meetings that Parsons had spoken at.
Parsons nodded to the others before turning his attention to Rachel. "Ms Peres. How nice to meet you. I've heard so much about you."
"Oh? From whom?" Rachel asked. She didn't want to be too brusque, but she also knew Parsons was tough. Everything she had heard told her that he admired toughness in others.
Parsons smiled. "So, you're as sure of yourself as I've been told."
"Is that bad, Mr. Parsons?"
"On the contrary. And it's Malcolm."
"Okay. Malcolm."
"You and I have a great deal to talk about, Rachel. Why don't we get started? Please join me in my study." Parsons turned to lead the way out of the kitchen.
Down a long hall, he turned to the left.
Rachel followed him into a room that was actually a large library. Its shelves were crammed with books at all angles, some upright, some stuck in lengthwise. Many of the shelves were full of papers covered with notes. There was a second fireplace, this one with a huge fire raging in it. Parsons dropped onto a sofa, lying back in a luxuriant stretch.
"Please, make yourself comfortable," he said, indicating a pair of overstuffed easy chairs.
"What do we have to talk about?" Rachel asked.
"I have plans, my dear. Big plans. I can use someone like you."
"Nobody uses me, Malcolm. I won't allow it."
"Let me rephrase that. There is a real need for someone like you in our organization."
"How do you know that? You don't know anything about me."
"That's where you're wrong, Rachel. I know everything about you. I have many friends, as you might have guessed. I've had my eye on you for quite a while now."
"Why?"
"As I said, because I need someone like you. Someone intelligent, someone with courage. I have had you watched for a couple of months. Closely. At the Big Falls sit-in you didn't panic when things got rough. That alone makes you special. Most of the members ran around like lost sheep when the police moved in."
"I never cared for getting hit from behind," Rachel said. She smiled stiffly. Parsons nodded. "I gather you're planning something special."
"Oh, yes, indeed. Something very special, Rachel. Nothing like it has ever been tried before."
"What is it?"
"All in good time, my dear. It's time to explore some of your other qualities."
"Like?"
"You are a very attractive woman, Rachel."
"I see. Is this your idea of initiation?"
"You might say that, yes."
"And if I agree? Then do I get to hear about your special project?"
"You're very curious about that, aren't you?"
"Sure I am. I've never considered a roll in the hay as a political statement. If I'm going to make a difference in this world, I can't spend too much time on my back."
"Oh, you'll make a difference, all right. We all will. If I can pull this off, it will be the end of nuclear power in this country. Perhaps in the world. That's something worth doing, don't you think? Something worth enduring 'a roll in the hay' for? Besides, you might enjoy this more than you think." Malcolm Parsons looked every inch the scholar.