Raga Six (A Doctor Orient Occult Novel) (34 page)

When Orient burst in, Six pushed Pia violendy to the floor and turned to face him. He crouched low and circled as Orient came toward him.
 

"Get out of here," he panted, his words chopped short as he tried to get his breath. His large-featured face was flushed and sweaty and his eyes were bright with rage.
 

"You, is it, Orient? What do you want here? My wife?" A choked laugh came up out of his throat. "Take
 
her and be damned. Now get out."
 

Orient stopped. "What kind of work are you doing, Doctor Six?" he asked softly, his reflexes alert for any sudden move. Six laughed again. It occurred to Orient that he was slightly incoherent. Orient took a step toward him.
 

"Your experiments, Doctor. Tell me about them."
 

Six backed away, crouching lower. "Stay away," he hissed. "I can create immortality. Get out. You’ve no right here."

 
"How, Doctor?" Orient kept his voice steady as he edged closer. "How can you create immortality?"
 

"Owen!"
 

At the sound of Raga’s voice Orient half-turned his head. In the same instant he saw Six in the corner of his vision, rushing at him. Orient dodged, but Six’s fist caught him in the back of the neck and he fell awkwardly, one leg trapped under Six’s heavy body. Another blow hit Orient’s groin, sending a sudden spasm of crippling pain blasting through his belly.
 

Orient rolled over and was stopped hard against one of the tables, upsetting most of the bottles. A beaker splintered against the stone floor. Six lunged at him. Orient threw up his arms but he wasn’t quick enough. Six’s hands found his throat and his thumbs pressed down, crushing his windpipe. He couldn’t breathe and Six’s fingers were increasing the pressure. A red film covered Orient’s eyes like a haze of blood. His skull was singing and his lungs were aching, desperate for release. Orient’s hands found Six’s face and grabbed frantically. The red haze became rockets bursting in the blackness.
 

"Alistar! Stop! Stop!" Raga’s screams were far away.
 

Orient dug his fingers into Six’s and pushed. The pressured slackened but it was too late. The blackness was closing over the lights. He pushed again and felt Six’s head hit something. Just as he passed out, he shoved once more.

CHAPTER 19

The first thing Orient saw when he regained consciousness was a blur of yellow eyes in a soft white haze. Then the blur came into focus and he saw Raga, her stark face drained and worn with concern. When she saw him looking at her, relief broke across her high forehead, erasing the lines, and her eyes became moist.
 

"Are you all right?" she whispered, gently putting her cheek across his face.
 

Orient let the softness of her cool skin soothe his heaving thoughts. "I’m okay," he said. The words scraped painfully through his constricted throat, jogging his memory. He pulled back suddenly and looked around. "Where Alistar?" he managed. He tried to get to his feet but fell back heavily as the room swerved.
 

"Just lie still, my darling." Raga was beside him again. Holding him close and brushing his neck with her lips, smoothing away the pain with her velvet mouth as she rocked him in her arms.
 

Orient relaxed and the singing in his head faded away. He got up on one knee. "Alistar?" he said hoarsely.
 

"He’s behind you." Pia’s voice came to Orient from across the room.
 

He looked up. Pia was standing against the wall looking fixedly at something. Orient turned around.
 

Alistar Six was lying on the floor, face up. His eyes were staring at the ceiling and there was a thin trickle of blood congealing on his temple.
 

Orient turned to Raga. Her pale face didn’t change its expression of dazed pity. "He’s been lying very still for a few minutes," she said.
 

Her voice was very low and Orient saw that she was on the edge of hysteria.
 

He crawled across the floor and looked at Doctor Six. He checked his pulse and heartbeat. Nothing. The gray hair near his temple was matted with dark blood. "He’s dead," Orient said, his throat protesting with each word.
 

Raga’s long fingers went to her mouth and she started to cry softly.
 

"I’m glad you killed him, Owen."
 

Pia’s flat voice jerked his head around, his neck throbbing from the sudden effort. Her words sent a cold wave of disbelief washing over his emotions. He looked down at his hands. They were trembling. He got to his feet and started weaving toward the door.
 

"Where are you going?" Raga called out, her voice high with fright.
 

"Telephone," Orient rasped. "Police..."
 

"No, wait." The urgency in Pia’s voice stopped him.
 

"Wait." Pia came toward him, walking very slowly. "Think Owen. Think of what it means to you. And Raga. They’ll never believe you."
 

Orient tried to think. What Pia was saying made sense. But nothing else did. There was a faint buzzing sound in his ears. He stood swaying and struggling to control his breath. As his diaphragm opened for a long drink of air, the memory of pushing Six’s head against the table poured into his brain.
 

"Let’s go into the other room," Pia was saying. "All of us."
 

Orient nodded. He needed some time. He turned around. Raga was still crouched on the floor with her back to her dead husband, sobbing silently. He went back and lifted her carefully to her feet, then half-carried her into the other room, her slender body limp and weightless in his arms. Easing her down onto the long leather couch, he sat down next to her and held her close. As his breathing found its rhythm, his thoughts began to link. He looked up. Pia was staring at him, her face composed and very calm.
 

"We’ll have to wait," she said evenly. "Perhaps one of the neighbors heard us."
 

Orient had a sudden thought. "I think I left the car lights on," he said slowly. Pia stood up. "I’ll go check outside. Try to calm Raga down." She moved quickly to the door.
 

As Orient watched her go, he was struck by her precise air of decision. What she said was true. The police would have to charge him with murder. And there was no evidence of what Doctor Six was doing. They would never believe him. At best they’d think he was insane. He would be separated from Raga. Because he murdered her husband. Then something occurred to him.
 

The oppressive, unseen mist was gone. There was a faint trace of its bitter vibration still lingering but it was inactive. The foul presence had been dispersed. His depression lifted slightly and he began to consider possibilities. They would have to do something to conceal Six’s body. But it all depended on Raga. She was very still against him and Orient knew that she was trying to recover her strength. When she did, there was chance that she would denounce him. If it came to that, he decided, he would just give himself up.
 

Pia came back into the room. "I turned off the car lights and locked the front door. It’s very quiet out there. I don’t think anyone heard anything. There wasn’t much noise." She sat down and looked at Raga, a frown of concern passing over her calm, chiseled features. "Is she all right?"
 

Orient nodded. "Some shock," he said. "It’ll pass."
 

Pia stood up. "I’ll get some brandy."
 

Before Orient could answer, she was out of the room. He could see that Pia was maintaining her calm with great effort.
 

The nervous energy inside her kept driving her to her feet in search of something to do. She came back with a bottle of cognac and three water glasses.
 

Orient was glad she did. The burning smoky liquid warmed his throat and eased the throbbing ache in his neck muscles. Raga took a sip from his glass and it seemed to revive her. She looked up at him. Her eyes were bright and wet and tears were running down her pale cheeks. Her silver hair was blown about in disorder and she looked frantic with worry. "I don’t want anything to happen to you." Her husky voice was measured and tense. "Not anything."
 

Orient brushed away her tears. "It’s all right," he whispered. He looked at Pia.
 

She was sitting back in her chair watching them, her face devoid of any emotion. "What do you want to do with Alistar’s body?" she asked tonelessly, as if she were inquiring about the price of a dress.
 

"I don’t really know yet."
 

Raga’s hand clutched his arm. "We’ve got to hide it." Her voice sounded alarmed. "Isn’t that right, Owen?"
 

Orient shook his head. His mind tried to find justification for Six’s death but all it could claim was confusion and doubt.
 

"I know where we can put him," Pia said.
 

"Where?" Raga leaned toward her. "Outside?"
 

Pia shook her head. "Downstairs."
 

"Why was Alistar trying to kill you?" Orient asked her suddenly.
 

Pia turned and looked at him, her green eyes remote. "Because he was insane. He wanted to kill Raga and marry me. When I told him I wanted to go away, he tried to kill me."
 

"What kind of work was he doing?"
 

"At first I thought he was treating me for anemia. Then I found out Alistar had been injecting me with a rejuvenation serum. He said he was going to make me live forever."
 

"Did he kill Janice and Presto?"
 

Pia’s eyes widened. "Presto?" she asked softly. As she spoke, the calmness dissolved and she slumped in her chair. "He was just a boy. He was trying to help me."
 

"Did Alistar kill him?" Orient repeated softly.
 

"I don’t know for sure. I think so but I just don’t know. When Alistar found us in Marrakesh, Presto had become sick, he was very weak. Alistar said he’d been taking drugs. He wanted just to leave him there at the hotel, but I insisted on bringing him to a hospital. I wanted to wait, but Alistar insisted on leaving for Tangier. He hated Presto for taking me away." She shivered and folded her arms.
 

"Do you know anything about the serum he developed?"
 

Pia shook her head. "It was something strange. A blend of aromatic herbs. I wanted to stop taking it. I was becoming half-crazy, I couldn’t sleep."
 

Orient’s thoughts tumbled through his brain. He knew that aromatics, the science of the effects of different essences and scents on the human body, went back to the Egyptians. It was the basis of their medicine. Their purpose was to achieve certain vibrationary levels using essential animal and plant odors. But how and why did he kill Janice and Presto?
 

"What about Janice?"
 

Pia dosed her eyes. "I don’t know. Alistar said he was treating her for the same disease I have, Guglielmo’s syndrome. It’s a red cell disease. He said that she probably couldn’t be saved but he wanted to try. To help me."
 

"I’d like to see the serum he developed," Orient said.
 

Pia got up. "I’ll show you."
 

Orient poured some more cognac for Raga before following Pia into the laboratory.
 

When he came into the small room, she was at one of the worktables, holding a corked vial which held
 
a thick, black liquid. She handed him the vial.
 

As Orient took it, he looked across the room. Six’s body was out of sight behind a table at the far end of the room. He pulled the cork out of the vial.
 

The odor that came up was heavy and oversweet, like the scent of rotted flowers. It brought an acid edge of nausea to his stomach. He corked the vial and handed it back to Pia. There was no way to check what Six was doing except to run tests on all his materials. "Show me where you want to put the body," he said.
 

Pia went to a small door on the other side of the room. Orient avoided looking at Six’s body as he passed it. Pia went ahead and turned on a dim, electric light. Orient followed her down the wooden stairs.
 

The room was a deep cellar. There was a large barrel and winepress on one side, and the other walls were lined with dusty shelves.
 

There were rows of empty mason jars on the shelves. It was very cold and damp down there. The cellar had been used for making wine and storing preserves. The walls were made of stone and the floor was packed earth.
 

"We can bury him here," Pia said, looking around.
 

Orient nodded.
 

Pia went to the corner of the cellar and came back with two rusty shovels. She handed one of them to Orient. Then she began turning over some earth near the large barrel.
 

Alistar Six was a big man and Orient was trembling from the effort of carrying his body down the stairs. He dragged it across the floor and eased it into the shallow grave he and Pia had prepared.
 

After they had filled in the hole and stamped the earth down, they pushed the sloshing, half-filled barrel over the grave and then very patiently removed every sign of disturbance.
 

Orient fought down the urge to get out of the cellar as quickly as possible and helped Pia smooth the earth around the barrel. When it was finished, they looked around again before they climbed the stairs and locked the door behind them. Orient looked at the broken glass on the floor of the laboratory and the hundreds of jars and bottles on the tables.