Time to Time: Ashton Ford, Psychic Detective (Ashton Ford Series) (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-one:
 
Sweet Memory of Life

Julie's mood altered
drastically the moment she was in the car. She folded her legs beneath her and
sat with her back to the door, all troubled and sober and groping for words.
"Ashton, I...I'm scared to death and I...need to talk to... somebody about
it."

I
put the car in motion then tried to show her a reassuring smile. "You're
in luck, kid. I just happen to be somebody."

That
got a wee smile out of her but the voice was still sober and troubled. "I
don't want...anybody...to think that I'm...being disloyal. To Penny, I mean.
But something...something very strange is going on and...and I just don't know
how to cope with it."

I
sighed and showed her my own troubled self. "Tell me about it. It's been
nothing but strange piled on top of strange for days now. So what do you think
it's all about?"

She
slowly shook her head to emphasize her own confusion as she replied, "Well
either I'm crazy or..."

I
prodded her gently. "Uh-huh?"

"Well
I'm not crazy. Do I act crazy to you?"

I
said, "No, but there's still hope that you could get as crazy as me.
You're talking crazy, kid, to a guy who hears voices, sees visions, and talks
with the dead. So if you're looking for sympathy..."

She
showed me a wan smile. "I've heard those things about you. It's really
true, then?"

So,
hey, with an opening like that, this lady got the story of my life. Guess I
held the floor for twenty minutes straight. Not that I am usually all that
eager to unload myself onto people but because I figured she needed the
contrast to her own problems. It worked. She was giggling and questioning
before I even got to my days at the Pentagon, and we were warm good friends by
the time I ran dry. Sex is not always the ultimate intimacy. I mean, sure, in a
sense there is no other way that two people can so totally interface, but
sometimes that interface produces an aftermath of cover-up and retreat that is
the exact opposite of intimacy—and you can't just lie together all the time,
can you.

I
bring it up because that was the way I had been reading Julie's reaction to me
after that crazy lovin' night at Malibu. That should have forged a closer
relationship, but in fact it had not.

I
had been driving aimlessly through West Los Angeles as we talked. Now it was
about noontime and my belly was reminding me that I'd sent nothing down for
quite a while. We started looking for a likely place and found a charming
sidewalk café with a low noise level and inviting shade. The conversation
resumed as we brunched, and I got the story of Julie's life as she knew it.

All
she knew of her origins was that she was adopted at the age of four by Giorgio
Marsini. I'd heard of the guy. Probably you have, too. He'd made quite a name
for himself as a movie producer in Italy but did not do so well in Hollywood.
He'd married an unknown actress shortly after arriving in the country, adopted
Julie a year later, and the unknown actress took a powder a year after that. So
Marsini raised the kid himself. And there were hard times, though Marsini
always kept up a good front. And it seems that his home was usually well
populated with "starlets" so there was always a feminine influence in
young Julie's life though her father never married again. He died broke when
she was eighteen. In fact, he put a gun to his head and pulled the trigger—that
is how bad things were.

The
resident starlet at that moment was Penny Laker, though she was then known as
Penelope Powers. The movie that boosted her to fame was the same one that killed
Giorgio Marsini. He'd put every nickel he could beg, borrow, and steal into the
production—and the thing bombed. Penelope Powers did not, and her next outing
 
was as Penny Laker. She took Julie Marsini
with her. They'd been together ever since.

I
commented, "So you've been living beneath a very big shadow."

"I've
never been aware that I was in the shadows," Julie replied. "We're
like sisters. We've always gotten along fine. Penny tends to be a bit
disorganized. I guess I am a naturally organized person, so I've never had a
problem finding a way to be useful."

I
said, "Yeah, but life can't be all work and sisterhood, you know. How have
you gotten along with Ted?"

"By
ignoring him," she replied quietly.

"What
does that mean?"

"It
means he's a jerk. But Penny doesn't know that yet and I'm not going to be the
one to tell her."

"The
guy been hitting on you?"

She
gave me a flash of eyes. "Since the honeymoon."

I
sighed and commented, "It figures. Some guys just..."

Julie
said, "Especially that guy. He has a dozen girls on the string all the
time, and still he comes home and tries to warm my bed."

"Penny
doesn't know about that."

"I
hope not."

"You
should tell her. That is what a friend would do. Tell her."

"I
can't do that."

"She
know about the other women?"

Julie
sighed and bit her upper lip. "I don't know. Sometimes I wonder how she
could not know. I mean, he has no finesse, and he's a jerk, and how could she
help but know. I think she just chooses not to know. In all fairness, Ted is a
good manager. I think she needs him because..."

"Because
what?"

"Well,
because she's so scattered. Especially the past year or so."

"What
do you think is happening there? Why is she so scattered?"

Julie
shrugged delicately. "I don't know. She's always been...well, never well
organized. It's just that it has gotten worse."

"A
lot worse?"

"A
lot worse, yes."

"Like
the dolphins."

"Yes.
About six months ago she met this woman who claims to have some sort of psychic
connection with dolphins. Her name is Dee Townsend. About Penny's age,
and—"

"What
would that be?"

"Penny's
age? Oh, I—you can't ask me that."

I
grinned. "Okay. What about this psychic?"

"I
guess she's psychic only with dolphins. At least she claims to be. She leads
these groups to Zuma Beach twice a week. They sit out there and call the
dolphins." She shrugged. "I guess they come because the same people
keep going back and back."

"You
say the name is Dee Townsend?"

"Uh-huh.
I think she's quite sincere. But she's a little batty, too."

I
said, "But the dolphins come."

Julie
smiled. "Okay. Maybe she's not so batty."

"What
kind of messages are they getting from the dolphins?"

"Peace
and love and brotherhood and all the usual stuff. Dee is writing a book. So I
guess there's more to it than that. But it seems mainly, what I get from Penny,
just that they love us and are worried about us, and they're afraid we're going
to destroy the planet. Them with it, I guess."

I
said, "Uh-huh."

"Penny
has joined the antinuclear group. I guess she has donated quite a bit of money.
And she goes to their rallies. You know she was arrested last month in
Nevada."

I
said, "No, I didn't know that."

"Uh-huh.
It was a protest demonstration. They sat in the road and blocked the entry to
that underground test site. The police came and hauled them away. Penny was one
of those."

"What
else has she been into?"

"Oh
it's always something. Central America, the Middle East, whatever. Penny's
always good for a few dollars and a celebrity face on television."

"Is
this what you call scattered?"

"Wouldn't
you? She hasn't made a picture in a year and a half."

“Ted
told me that, yeah. Guess he's pretty upset about it."

"Well
it's his meal ticket, isn't it."

I
mildly suggested, "Maybe that's not entirely fair. It sounds to me like it
has been a symbiotic relationship. They feed each other. Why shouldn't he be
concerned about that?"

She
said, "I guess you're right. But where is he now? —with all this going
on?"

I
said, "All this what?"

"You
know what I mean. All this."

"The
dolphins."

"Yes."

"And
the swimming pool."

"Yes."

"And
Donovan."

"Yes."
She blinked at me, caught herself; said, "What? Who is Donovan?"

"He's
the guy in the silver suit. The kind Penny was wearing last night."

"What?"

"You
know what. Focus on it. Penny was wearing a uniform. It was like a workout suit
except silvery metallic. Donovan wore one, too. Focus."

"I—I
can't. I thought I—but it..."

"We
were aboard the spacecraft. Penny was there. Donovan was there. Silver
uniforms. Big domed room. Long ramp. Focus. We went down the ramp hand in hand
and ended up on my living room floor. Focus, Julie, dammit."

“I
can’ t.”

I
had to believe it, because I had been watching her eyes and reading the fuzzies
in there. All she was getting were phantom fragments freezing between the
synapses.

But
I thought I knew how to get at it.

"Ever
been hypnotized?" I asked quietly.

"No."

"Do
you trust me?"

She
silently debated that one for a moment, then replied, "I guess so."

"Would
you like to find out for sure how crazy you are?"

"I
think so."

"Let
me put you in trance."

Her
gaze rebounded from mine and fled to an inspection of our surroundings. Presently
her eyes rested on me and she began breathing again.

"Do
you know what you're doing? I mean, is it safe?"

I
said, "Promise, I know what I'm doing and your consciousness will be
entirely safe with me. I think it's important that we find out what is buried
in your memory gaps. I'd love to find out what is buried in mine, but I don't
know anyone competent who I would trust with that. You're lucky; you've got
me."

She
looked about her again, said in a weak voice: "Right here?"

"My
place," I said.

"Oh
dear," she said.

"What
more could you give me at my place," I pointed out, "that you have
not already given?"

She
laughed quietly, took my hand, looked down at it; murmured, "Let's go find
out."

Chapter Twenty-two:
 
Of Spoken Word

There is nothing
magical or mystical about hypnosis. A lot of phenomenal stuff can happen under
hypnosis, sure, but that is because the mind itself is phenomenal and hypnosis
can free it up to do its thing. The hypnotic trance is simply another state of
consciousness, entirely natural, during which the hypnotist directly accesses
the deeper domains of the mind.

There
is more to it than that, of course, and there are various levels of trance. The
deeper the trance, the more phenomenal the results, but even the lightest
levels of trance can produce marked alterations of personality if the therapist
is patient and persistent. What that means is that eight to ten or more
light-trance sessions may be required to achieve the same results that a single
deep-trance session would produce. Of course I did not have time for patience
and persistence, so I was hoping that Julie Marsini would prove to be a good
subject for deep-trance hypnosis.

As
it turned out, she was an excellent subject. I have worked with hypnosis quite
a bit, but I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of subjects I have
known to achieve the very deep somnambulistic level in the first session. In
that level of trance the subject can open the eyes and walk about the room
without breaking the trance, can produce startlingly strong positive and
negative hallucinations, can even produce different personalities, and of
course has absolute memory recall.

Julie
was in a somnambulistic trance five minutes after I began the induction
routines. She opened her eyes upon command—laughed, wept, sang, shivered, and
shuddered upon command—altered her own heartbeat, and raised and lowered her
own blood pressure upon command.

I
had a hot one and I loved it. At a more relaxed time I would have paid this
girl to sit for me in a research project. But the time was not relaxed, the
circumstances not right for leisurely research. So I went right to work on her
repressed memories. She was comfortably reclined on the old leather chair in my
study, eyes open and looking at me, and if someone had walked in on that
conversation there would not have been a clue as to what was actually going on
there.

"Are
you comfortable?"

"Oh
very."

"Stay
comfortable. Shift about however you'd like to remain comfortable. Remain
focused on me. Any other sounds that may come into this room will only deepen
your trance. You will find no distractions. Focus on me. Respond only to me.
Speak only the truth, only the whole truth, and speak only to me. Do not
fabricate answers for me, Julie. Do not try to please me by telling me
something simply because you think I want to hear that particular thing. It
will not please me, Julie, if you tell me anything but the truth. Do you
understand?"

"Yes.
I understand."

"What
is your name?"

"My
name is Julie Marsini."

"And
how old are you, Julie?"

"I
am—I think I am—I was told that I was four when Poppa found me. That was
twenty-four years ago. So I guess I'm twenty-eight. Is that right?"

"The
mathematics are right, yes. You say Poppa found you. Where did he find
you?"

"I
guess I was in a home."

"But
you don't know for sure?"

"I
don't know for sure. I was four when Poppa found me.

"How
about your birth certificate? Doesn't it tell you when you were born?"

"I
don't have one. I never had one. Poppa always laughed and said he found me
under a rock."

"Poppa
was Giorgio Marsini?"

"Yes."

"Was
he nice to you?"

"Oh
yes."

"You
loved him."

"Oh
yes, I loved him."

"Did
he ever talk to you about where and how he found you?”

Julie
smiled, enjoying some warm memory. "Under a rock in Never Never
Land."

"Do
you love Penny Laker?"

"Oh
yes. We are like sisters."

"Do
you like living with Penny and working with Penny?"

"Oh
yes."

"There's
nothing else you'd like to be doing with your life?”

"No.
What else would I do?"

"You're
a bright girl, a pretty girl. You could do anything you wanted to do. What do
you want to do?"

"I
must serve my sister."

"What?
You must serve her?"

"Yes,
I must."

"Who
told you that?"

"Who
told me that? Who told me that?"

"I
asked you, Julie. Who told you that you must serve your sister?"

My
subject was becoming agitated. I moved quickly to another question.

"It's
okay, just relax, everything's okay. Tell me about the dolphins."

"Peace
and love."

"Did
you know that dolphins are carnivorous? They are predators."

"They
eat fish, I think."

"Yes,
and that makes them predators. So where is all this peace and love when the big
fish is eating the little fish?"

"Well
a dolphin is not a fish."

"I
was speaking figuratively. Dolphins are no different than men, are they? Don't
we both hunt and fish and eat flesh?"

"I
guess so."

"So
I guess peace and love depends upon the point of view."

"I
guess so."

"How
many dolphins are in your swimming pool right now?"

“Two,
I think."

"How
do you know that?"

"I
saw two. Didn't we see two?"

"Yes,
we saw two dolphins swimming in the pool. What are those dolphins eating? The
ones in your pool. What are they eating?"

"I
don't know."

"How
did they get there?"

"I
don't know."

"Who
enlarged the pool?"

"I
don't know."

"Did
Donovan enlarge the pool and bring the dolphins?"

"Yes."

"Yes?
Donovan did that?"

"Maybe
he did."

"You
know Donovan, then."

"I
must serve my sister."

"Did
Donovan tell you that?"

"No.
I don't know." She was getting flustered again. "D'Ahnov'e'n."

This
last word came with clicks and tongue trills. I had no idea what she'd said.

"Give
me that again, Julie. That last word. Say it again."

She
said it the same way. I asked her to spell it. She spelled it the way I showed
above. A phonetic spelling that comes close but does not duplicate the clicks
and trills is: Duh-awn-ove-ee-un.

I
was momentarily flustered myself.

"That
is Donovan?"

"I
think so, yes."

"Okay.
Let's take it back to the very first time you saw or met with Donovan. Drift
back to that point in time, your first meeting with Donovan. Now tell me about
it,"

"Uh,
forbidden, I cannot."

"No,
I think you can. Someone has programmed you, Julie. Now we're going to
de-program. I want you to tell me about your very first meeting with
Donovan."

"I
cannot."

"Was
Penny there?" I had encountered a block, and I was trying to get around
it.

"Penny
is always there."

"Can
you see her uniform?"

"Yes."

"Can
you describe it for me?"

"Yes.
It is like silver lamé. It fits very closely like a bodysuit."

"What
is Penny's name when she is wearing the uniform?"

"Her
name is Penny."

"What
is her other name, her real name?"

"She
is Penny. Penny loves me. I will serve my sister."

"Clear
to the grave, eh?"

"Till
it is time."

"Time
for what?"

"Time
for the change."

"What
change?"

"You
know... change, metamorphosis, the new world."

"Where
is the new world?"

"I
don't know. Return. It will return."

"Return
from where?"

"From
the depths, from the slumber."

"Where
are the depths? Where is the new world slumbering?"

"Pyramid."

"Pyramid?
What does that mean, Julie? Tell me what pyramid means to you."

"Promise.
We shall return."

"Try
triangle. What does the triangle mean?"

"Trine.
Holy trinity. Union. The triangle is perfection. It is father, son, and holy
ghost. It is three gathered together in my name. It is..."

"Go
on. What else does the triangle mean?"

I
immediately wished I hadn't asked that. Because Julie began talking a streak in
that other tongue, the click-and-trill language, and I did not get her back
again until I terminated the trance.

I
later dubbed that part of the tape and took it to a language expert at UCLA. He
thought I was playing a joke on him, wanted to know how I'd managed to get an
African Bushman and a dolphin at the same microphone at the same time. I just
let it go at that because I knew the guy couldn't help me anyway.

As
for Julie and that first trance session, I thought it best to keep the wraps on
for the moment, so I brought her back with no memory of the trance. She looked
at me with a smile and said, "Didn't work, huh?"

"We'll
do better next time," I assured her.

“When
will we try again?"

"Later
tonight, maybe," I replied.

"Oh.
Well. How will we ever fill the time between now and then?"

But
of course she knew how. We both knew how.

Time
is relative, you see. It can be a burden or a joy, a trial or a celebration.

We
both opted for joyful celebration, which is what loving should always be. Even
and especially with the new world a-dawning, and D'Ahnov'e'n waiting in the
wings to cart the old one away.