I Married An Alien (16 page)

So this was going to take all morning, was it? Terrific. Since Jordan had also finished his breakfast, he once again did the gentlemanly thing and offered me his arm. I slid my hand through the crock of his elbow and we left the cafeteria.

"Where's your com-link?" he asked as we headed back to the lift bank.

"Back in our room, I suppose."

"Well, we'd better get it. I'm sure you're going to get a rather terse message from your father at some stage today."

Anita's
father, not mine, I thought grimly, but didn't say it out aloud. We returned to the room to retrieve the tablet, and then took the elevator to another part of the building. In the hotel most of the signs had been in English, the universal Earth language, but here, where few Earthlings ventured, everything was written in Terron, a beautiful script, but totally illegible to me.

I finally found myself being shown into the good doctor's reception area, complete with Human secretary behind a large counter, and comfortable lounge chairs for waiting patients. After Jordan reported to the receptionist he sat down beside me on the lounge. I heard her contact the doctor via an intercom, informing him we were here to see him.

Expecting a bespectacled man in a long white coat, I was surprised when a Jordan look-alike emerged from a sliding door beside the reception desk. He was even wearing the same colored trousers and a crisp white shirt. Of course his features were different to Jordan's, and he wasn't as tall, but his eyes were almost the exact shade of intelligent silver blue.

"Good morning," he greeted us politely, as both Jordan and I got to our feet. "I'm Doctor Samson Coolongola, but I'm sure that's too much of a mouth-f for you, my dear, so just call me Sam."

"Thank you." I accepted his outstretched hand, which he gave a firm shake. Then he greeted Jordan the same way.

"So, will you remain while Anita and I go through the memory recovery process?"

Jordan glanced down at me. "Would you like me to stay?"

"Is it going to hurt?" I asked the doctor.

He shook his head. "Of course not. What kind of horror stories have you been spinning the poor woman," he chuckled at Jordan.

"I think she's come up with them entirely on her own. Anita seems to think she's actually from three hundred years into the past."

"Shall we go inside to discuss this?" Sam urged, extending an arm towards the still open doorway. He seemed almost as excited about his pet project as Professor Jackson had been, which to me did not bode well. Reluctantly I followed the two men.

I found myself in what could only be described as a laboratory. It didn't look like a surgery, or even an operating room. In the centre stood a bed with a curved metallic canopy over it that looked like a cat-scan machine. I supposed this was the doctor's mind reader. Other machines and computer monitors were positioned around the periphery, along with several chairs and desks. No need for massive medical tomes in this day and age. I couldn’t even see any paper charts or forms.

"So, you think you're from the past," Sam got straight to the point. He motioned towards the chairs and Jordan and myself sat down. Sam continued to pace about his lab, which I found irritating, so I gave him a brief nod in response.

"Well, we should be able to find out soon enough what your mind's been up to." He motioned towards his scanning machine. "When you lie down in this, I can record all brain activity going back about two weeks. The only problem is it takes a while for me to reverse the recordings, so you will need to come back in the afternoon for the results. Also, you will need to be sedated for the duration. That way you won't move so your brain will be at its most relaxed, and thus not interfere with the recording."

No one had mentioned being knocked out. Anything could happen while I was incognito, I thought fearfully, imagining coming back with a new brain to go along with the new body – or disappearing altogether because I was supposed to be dead. "Keep an eye one him while I'm in there," I whispered to Jordan.

"She's worried you might tamper with her mind," Jordan explained, when Sam stopped his pacing to regard us. No doubt he'd heard my whisper and wanted to know what it was about.

Even though Jordan and I hadn't tried to communicate directly with our minds since our temporary separation last night, it seemed he was still in tune with my thoughts and feelings. It was only me who had no idea what he was thinking and feeling, not that I really cared to know right now. Our lives were in danger, and it seemed only Anita's memories could help us discover why.

"No tampering," Sam said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Just recording. All right."

"And I won't leave the room," Jordan told me.

Jordan's reassurance was enough to encourage me to agree to the test. Within minutes I was lying on the bed, with my head inside the tunnel. No canellas or syringes were needed to sedate me – just one sweet-tasting tablet that dissolved on the tongue. Almost as soon as it was gone, I was out for the count.

While Anita went through the memory retrieval procedure, Jordan communicated with Logan, Mark and Brian, but none of them had managed to find out much about the Rembrandts or Anita's father that wasn't already public knowledge. Everything appeared to be above-board and legal, although Rembrandt's release of the refined
Hytana
oil to his customers was slower than it used to be, causing shortages and price hikes in some areas of Earth.

Jordan rubbed his chin, wondering if this had anything to do with Rembrandt's desire to open up new
Hytana
farms on Terron. Was there something wrong with the oil? Perhaps there was some kind of industrial action involved that the authorities hadn't been informed about. Or could Rembrandt be keeping some of it for another purpose?

As he pondered these points, Anita's tablet vibrated in his shirt pocket, and Jordan fished it out, not at all surprised to see the message portal flashing.

It was from her father.

Jordan excused himself and returned to the reception area to play it. Luckily the area was deserted. Samson's mate must have gone for a break.

Jordan activated the message, and the careworn face of a middle-aged Human man with receding grey hair greeted him. Even though he was dressed in a tie and suit, he didn't look like he'd gotten a wink of sleep.

Anita, my girl, you must come home. Your fiance has been begging us to bring you back. What's happened to you? Are they keeping you against you will? You know your freedom cannot be taken from you in this way, particularly if you're engaged. A woman about to be married does not need to take the tour. What on earth went wrong?

The desperation in his voice sounded so genuine, Jordan wanted to hurl the tablet at the wall. Perhaps it was, he reasoned with himself. Maybe DeBurgh didn't know why Anita wanted to escape the Rembrandts, other then the fact that they looked like creeps. Some people could be unbelievably clueless when it came to reading between the lines. Perhaps DeBurgh had no idea that Anita didn't want to marry Rembrandt Junior.

Jordan suspected the only way he was going to discover the truth was to wait for the results of her memory scan. He sighed heavily. It was going to be a long morning, a very long morning indeed.

Chapter
Thirteen

After lunch Jordan and I headed back to the doctor's rooms. I had experienced no after-effects from the cat scan, no wooziness or nausea, as was often the case after a period of sedation back in my own time.

Jordan had showed me Anita's father's frantic message, and I too thought it simply looked like a concerned parent trying to determine their missing child's whereabouts. But after last night's kidnapping attempt, I told Jordan I thought he was just trying to make everything look more innocent than it was.

Someone was desperate for Anita to return to Earth, and it made me more nervous than ever. I had a feeling if we didn't get to the bottom of this soon, neither Jordan nor myself would be safe, no matter what part of Terron we ran to. I didn't say this out loud, but I could see from the concerned frown on Jordan's brow that he was thinking pretty much the same thing.

Such intrigue had never been a part of my staid and humdrum life, and I hoped neither of us were going to end up dead from our efforts to thwart the Rembrandts. Like Jordan I was convinced they were at the bottom of this. Anita's father could have been just as much a pawn as she was.

When Sam ushered us back into his lab, he had dimmed the lights, and the largest computer monitor was lit up like a movie screen with numerous wiggly brainwave tracks running across it. He pushed three chairs over to it and we all took our places.

"Well Anita, or should I now call you Ruth?" Sam began. Jordan and myself spun around to gape at him. "Yes, it seems you were right. Ruth Clarke took over when the mind of Anita DeBurgh died."

"Holleee Hell," Jordan gasped, sitting forward in his seat to regard Sam gravely. "So… so does that mean she really
is
from the past?"

"Where Ruth is from I cannot say, because it happened so suddenly… See how the brain waves change?" He motioned to the screen with a laser pointer. Each wave changed abruptly at a single point, as though someone had drawn a black line down the middle of the screen. Anita’s brainwaves had been jagged, erratic. But mine were smoother, rolling waves. But I didn’t like the way they were talking about me as though I wasn't even in the room.

"I'm exactly where I said I was from," I told Jordan, but he kept his gaze riveted on the screen. What was going through his mind now? I wondered. Was he wishing he'd let the thugs drag me onto their space craft last night, after all?

"What I'm more concerned about," Sam continued as though neither of us had spoken, "is why Anita died, and how the heck Ruth could take over once she was gone. Never in all my years as a mind practitioner have I seen anything quite like this. If I was an older, more superstitious person, I’d call it a soul transfer."

"You can record memories and you don't believe in time travel," I cried as he continued to sit there shaking his head in absolute wonderment.

"We won't get anywhere raking over that old ground," Jordan said. "Just show us exactly what you recorded, and we might get a better perspective on Anita's demise."

Sam shifted in his seat, but didn't touch his console. "I watched the first few minutes, just to ensure everything worked… I really don't think Ruth should see it…. I mean if she has no idea who Anita was, then I…"

"Why, what happened?" I demanded.

Sam continued to look uncomfortable.

"Samson," Jordan prompted.

He swallowed. "Anita was raped… "

I gasped, and Jordan swore in his own language. At least I assumed it had been a profanity, judging by his tone.

"By who?" Jordan croaked.

"There were two men, one after the other. An older man and a much younger one," Sam said, still unable to look either of us in the eye.

"Oh shit," Jordan swore again, this time in English.

"And I think I have a pretty good idea who they were," I added, as Jordan pulled Anita's tablet from his shirt pocket. He activated it, and lined up two pictures side by side; Ian and Oliver Rembrandt.

"Was it these two?" Jordan held it up for Sam to see.

The doctor nodded gravely.

"Fucking
bastards!"
Jordan slammed a fist against the armrest of his chair. "I am going to tear them limb from fucking limb."

I had never heard him speak with such violence before, but I could understand his impotent anger, since I longed to avenge Anita as well. The poor woman! To have that happen to her, and then to… lose her life like that.

"How about I play the rest of the recording and let you make up your minds at the end of it," Sam suggested. "I just hope there are no more scenes like that…" He shuddered visibly. "Coming from her own eyes, it's not like watching a movie, so things will appear a bit strange at first."

"Just get on with it, Samson." Jordan urged.

He nodded gravely and activated the recorder. Anita’s last memories began to appear on the big screen.

True to the doctor’s words her memories were strange to watch, but I very quickly got to feel for this courageous young woman. She had been pinned into a corner with no way out.

The rape took place after Oliver caught Anita reading some documents on his personal computer. She hadn't been snooping, she kept repeating hours later as she sobbed her heart out. She was hard to understand because she was lying face-down on a bed, her words muffled by the pillow and her tears. I caught a glimpse of one trembling hand. It had a leather belt tied around it. She had been bound hand and foot.

It had something to do with explosives they were building using
Hytana
oil.

"So
that's
where the extra shipments ended up," Jordan growled under his breath. "And I bet I know exactly what the explosives are for."

"Terron?" I ventured a fearful guess.

He nodded grimly, and then turned back to the screen.