He supposed he might easily have a letter or two from a Renzler tucked in his copious crackpot file. He didn’t pay much attention to the names.
“Hey, did you ever know a guy named Elias Mooney?”
Derek stiffened, never for a moment having dreamed that he would hear that name in such surroundings. He had hoped—and fully expected—that he would never hear it again from anyone, ever.
“What?” he said, forcing himself to stay calm.
“Elias Mooney. He was an old shaman out in California, I can’t remember the name of the place but I think it was near San Francisco. I corresponded with him a little, till he died a couple years back. Helped me out a lot.”
“No,” Derek said. “No, I don’t think I knew him.”
“Yeah, I guess it’s pretty ridiculous thinking you would. California’s pretty big, huh?”
“Big.”
“I just thought, you know, maybe the occult scene out there in Frisco—maybe you all know each other. Can’t be that big a circle, right?”
“Bigger than I like.”
“It’s not like he was a celebrity or anything—just a real helpful guy. He helped me out during a real rough time—and I never even met him, you know? Just through letters and tapes and stuff. I guess he had correspondents all over the world. And… this would sound funny to most people, but I bet not to you. We used to meet up in the astral, in dreams. I learned a lot from him then.”
I can’t believe he’s going on about this, Derek thought. What’s he really getting at? Could Elias have mentioned me in their correspondence? Is this some kind of clumsy attempt at blackmail?
He decided to say nothing more, to avoid feeding Renzler’s interest. The ploy seemed to work. The kid seemed at a loss for words. Derek wanted to find out exactly what his relationship with Elias had been, but he was afraid to stir up something that had lain quiet for so long. Finally Michael started off on a wild occult tangent, and Derek began to relax.
It was then the car made a terrible grinding sound.
“Holy mother,” Michael swore.
“What’s wrong?” Lenore said, leaning forward. Michael was jamming frantically at the stick shift, just pushing it around in big loose circles.
“The shift is gone! Hold on!”
He swerved sideways onto the shoulder of the dark road. They went bumping and jouncing over what felt like boulders and fallen tree branches. This is it, Derek thought. This is how it would end. Well, I guess I deserve it….
They came to a rough halt and the engine died immediately. They sat in the dimming glow of the VW’s headlights, facing a thick wall of bare trees and brambles. Michael reached past Derek, pulled a penlight from the glove box, then got out of the car and went around to the back.
Derek looked at Lenore, but she was craning around to peer out the rear window. Finally Michael banged down the engine cover. “Shit,” he said, his voice carrying clearly in the icy night.
“What is it?” Lenore called.
“I don’t know, I’m no mechanic.” He came around to the door and peered in at them. “Mr. Crowe, I hate to ask you this, but… how soon does your plane leave? Are we cutting it close?”
Derek pushed the button that illuminated the face of his watch. “I’ve got a couple hours, actually.”
“You were just going to sit at the airport?”
“It was preferable to sitting in the auditorium. Is the airport a long way from here?” He imagined hiking down dark country roads carrying his bags for half the night, or dying of exposure, or ending up in a scene out of Deliverance.
“Too far to walk, yeah. But just down the road’s a diner with a phone. Lenore, I’m gonna go call Tucker, see if he can come help us out. At the very least give Mr. Crowe a ride. Why don’t you two just sit here and take it easy, and I’ll be back as soon as I can. Tucker’s pretty good with cars.”
Derek closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
“We’ll be all right,” Lenore said, and Derek felt his spirits rising. Alone with her, he’d be fine indeed. He welcomed the occasion, unexpected as it was. As long as he made his plane on time, what harm could come of it?
“Great.” Michael zipped up his jacket, gave them a weak salute, and headed off down the road. For a minute they could see him fading out beyond the headlights, and then he was gone.
“So,” Lenore said after a while, “where you from?”
“Originally Los Angeles, but I’ve lived in San Francisco a few years. How about you?”
“Oh, uh, I grew up in upstate New York—little towns you probably never heard of. Lived in New York City for a long time, before I met Michael and we moved down here.”
“So you are a city girl.”
“I guess. No. I’m not from anywhere, really. Lived in a lot of different houses when I was a kid. Foster homes and stuff. Bouncing around.”
He wasn’t sure how to respond to that. With regrets?
“You think you could hypnotize someone like me?” she said abruptly.
Derek laughed, taken by surprise. “Hypnotize you? Why?”
“I don’t know, just to see what it’s like. I’ve always wondered.”
Derek winced. “I suppose I could,” he said. “Some people are resistant. Children, soldiers, people used to taking orders—they can be very good subjects. But I have a feeling you’re the independent type.”
She smiled. “You do, huh? How about Ms. A? What type was she?”
“Well—also very independent, but I believe the mandalas must have been stronger. They had a use for her, and they might have made her more susceptible to hypnosis.”
“Could you do me?” she said.
“Right now, you mean?”
“Sure. While Michael’s gone. We’re gonna be here awhile. Just try. No pressure if it doesn’t work. I’m curious.”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Maybe the mandalas will come through me,” she said, mischievously now, and he felt certain she was mocking him, that all this was an elaborate tease. “Maybe there’s something else they want to say to you.”
“I don’t—I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
She made a disappointed sound, and he could see the beginnings of a pout. She reached across the seat, then, and turned out the headlights.
“Good idea,” he said.
“I feel like I know you,” she said in the dark, in a hushed voice. “How could that be?”
“I—I don’t know. Do you really?”
“As soon as I saw you up there tonight, I just sort of felt this click.”
Derek cast his eyes down the road, half expecting to see Michael coming up from the total darkness. Lenore’s mouth was right beside his ear.
“What does that mean?” she said.
“I don’t know. Maybe you recognized me from my book.”
“It wasn’t that. I felt like I had to talk to you. Like, you’d understand me.”
“Talk about what?” he said.
“Don’t you ever want to talk to someone who doesn’t know you? Someone who’s not involved in all your problems?”
“I think we all feel that way sometimes.”
“It’s because you’ve looked into all these things, with the counseling you’ve done, the hypnotherapy and all—I could use some advice. God knows I could probably use some therapy too. I need some help quitting drinking, I know that, but that’s only part of it. There’s things going back—way back—I can’t remember how far back. Maybe that’s where my problems all started. Maybe you could help me remember, you know? Under hypnosis? Because I can’t. There’s like this blank area, early in my childhood. I don’t remember my mother or any of that. I was already bouncing from home to home by then. I was a troublemaker, I guess you’d say. A difficult child. I want to know—what happened to me? When did the trouble really start?”