"There are prisons, and there are prisons," Lippitt said. "Some are a good deal worse than others."
Elizabeth Foster wasn't really listening to anything Lippitt had to say. "Victor knew what was in Mr. Lippitt's mind," she continued, taking a deep breath and drawing her shoulders back. "He knew others would be coming for him, so he decided to run. He told me he'd find a safe place and then send for me. After all, we had plenty of money in the bank. Victor planned to use the money to buy new identities, new lives somewhere where they couldn't find us.
"He left the house. There were two men waiting for him. I saw what happened, but I still don't understand it." She wrapped her arms around her body as she shuddered. "I was standing on the stoop when one of the men jumped out at him. Victor swung his suitcase at the man, but Victor was still very weak from the operations; he didn't really have much strength to begin with, and the other man was so big. The man ducked around behind Victor and grabbed Victor's arm. Victor was struggling to get away, and then … the man just seemed to go down. His knees buckled and he fell to the sidewalk. He was holding his head and moaning, as if he were in pain, and then… he just lay still. Then another man came running at Victor. I thought Victor was going to be killed, so I ran inside and called the police.
When I came back out, both men were lying on the sidewalk and Victor was gone. I started to scream again. . I couldn't stop screaming."
Elizabeth Foster's voice trailed off, and there was silence in the room. I didn't think she would speak again, but she did.
"I knew I'd never see him again," she whispered. "And I didn't." She blinked back tears. "Two days later Mr. Lippitt called and told me Victor had been killed. The day after that, I saw a report in the newspaper that Victor had died in an accident in his laboratory. Now the Russians say they've talked to him on the phone. I just don't understand how that can be."
She looked at Lippitt, who stared back at her for a few moments, then glanced quickly away.
Tal spoke quietly to Mrs. Foster. "Do you have any idea how your first husband managed to escape from the two men?"
The woman shook her head.
It was Lippitt who answered. "He killed one and he knocked the other unconscious," Lippitt said into the stillness. He paused, then added: "And he did it with his mind. Victor Rafferty could kill with his mind."
Tal gestured impatiently. "That's insane."
"Nevertheless, it's true," Lippitt replied calmly. "You see, Victor Rafferty could do much more than just 'read minds.' He discovered through a series of accidents that his mental powers were growing. First, he found out he could kill by willing it when he was attacked by my men. I don't believe Rafferty meant to kill, but he panicked; he saw himself being captured. He literally reached out with his mind into the other man's brain. I don't know what he did there, or how he did it-an autopsy showed that my man died of a massive cerebral hemorrhage. But Rafferty knew, because he was able to control it within the space of a few seconds; remember that the second man was only knocked unconscious. Can you see the implications of this power, Dr. Frederickson?"
"Assassination," I said quickly. "The same general or diplomat Rafferty leached his information from could suddenly die of a cerebral hemorrhage."
"Without anyone having laid a hand on him," Lippitt said tightly. "It wouldn't have to be a general; it could be a president, a vice president, a cabinet member. Victor Rafferty would be able to kill anyone he could get close to, and never be caught."
20
"He wouldn't have!" Elizabeth Foster cried, violently shaking her head from side to side. "You know what he did to the first man was an accident! He didn't know what he was doing!"
"But he had the capability," Lippitt said. "That's the whole point. It was conceivable that he could have been forced to use his powers against us. If they had you, Mrs. Foster, they would control him. That's what the exercise of the last few hours was all about. For as long as he lived, Victor Rafferty could conceivably be forced to spy and kill for whoever controlled him, and no nation but the one he was working for would have a military secret left. Can you understand our position now, Mrs. Foster?"
Elizabeth Foster continued to shake her head, but her eyes betrayed her: She did understand, perhaps for the first time.
"Every nation that knew of his existence had only two choices," I said. "Force Rafferty into its camp-or kill him."
Lippitt gave a curt affirmative nod, and Elizabeth Foster's head snapped back against the cushions of the sofa as though Lippitt had struck her a physical blow. Mike Foster swore softly under his breath.
"There were orders," Lippitt continued quietly. "They were the same type of orders that I'm sure went out to the intelligence divisions of the other countries."
"Victor didn't die in an accident," Elizabeth Foster whispered. "When he refused to cooperate with you, you killed him. Or you tried to kill him."
Lippitt made an end run around the implied question. "We almost had him again," he said. "We were … so close."
"The restaurant and the hospital?" I asked.
"Yes." Lippitt fixed his eyes on me. "I believe Rafferty discovered one more facet to his powers in that diner."
My mind flashed back to the old waiter, Barney, and his insistence that Rafferty had made food 'bounce.' "Telekinesis," I said, the breath catching in my throat. "He learned he could actually move objects by willing it."
"Correct," Lippitt responded evenly. "Again, an accident that enhanced Rafferty's knowledge of his own powers. He was tired and on the run. He'd lost his suitcase in the struggle with my men, and his bankbook was in that suitcase. He had no place to hide and no funds, except what he had with him. He had only the clothes on his back. When the waiter tripped and Rafferty saw that food flying at him, he instinctively reached out and pushed it away with his mind. It was a reflex action, and it must have hurt him terribly; he passed out from the pain. The waiter got a cop, who called an ambulance. Finally the cop recognized Rafferty from the description we'd sent out. I was eventually contacted in Washington … but you know the rest. By the time I got there, it was too late."
"Why hadn't the police been briefed?" Tal asked.
"Because all pertinent information concerning Victor Rafferty was-and is-Top Secret."
"That's almost funny," Tal said sardonically. "Apparently everyone knew about Rafferty except the people who could have helped you."
Lippitt ignored him. "No one was aware at the time that Rafferty could actually move objects. Also, it must be said that he learned very quickly how to control his powers. He put the guard to sleep, then used telekinesis to open the bolt. That's how he escaped from the hospital."
Lippitt, with his flat narrative, made it sound too easy. I remembered O'Connell's description of the fingernail scratches on the doorjamb, the blood on the floor: Rafferty had been in agony.
"Poor Victor," Elizabeth Foster murmured. "Poor, poor Victor."
"How did you know Rafferty was at the metallurgy lab?" I asked. "Or is that all a story too?"
Lippitt looked at me oddly for a moment. "Rafferty called on the phone and told me he'd be there," he said simply. He took a deep breath, as if preparing to swim a long distance underwater. "It was a Sunday morning. He said that he wanted to meet me in his metallurgical lab. I had a plane bring me from Washington, and I went to the building at the appointed time."