Raga Six (A Doctor Orient Occult Novel) (37 page)

"And if he’s not there I can contact him telepathically," Orient said, reaching for Raga’s hand. "And he can meet us there."
 

They took another cab to the beginning of the wide car studded street and then walked slowly along the sidewalk looking at the people who were sitting in the sun, sipping drinks, and watching the elegant strollers. "Everyone’s so well dressed," Raga mourned. "I feel absolutely shabby."
 

Orient looked down at the green-flecked black velvet dress that clung to the sharp curves of her body as she moved, held close to her soft sign by a wide silver thread belt hanging loosely over her hips. "If you were any lovelier," he said, "you’d have to pay a luxury tax just to walk on the street."
 

Raga laughed. "You’re prejudiced, Doctor." She turned her head. "Look, someone’s waving at us." Orient raised his head. He saw Argyle standing up at a cafe table. Sun Girl was standing with him. "How’d you know to find us here?" Argyle asked as he shook Orient’s hand. "I was just going back to the Pantheon."
 

"Just came from there," Orient said as he held a chair for Raga.
 

Sun Girl kissed him on the cheek, and smiled shyly at Raga. "I hope you don’t mind that we called you so suddenly. We didn’t know any other way of getting in touch with you."
 

"You must have been close by," Argyle commented. "I really didn’t expect you for a few days yet."

 
"We were just off Naples," Orient said as he sat down. "What do you need?"
 

Argyle scowled. "Your help, Doc."
 

Orient looked from him to Sun Girl. They seemed tired and worried. Simpson was wearing a rumpled silk shirt, and the high riding boots over his slacks were scuffed and dull. Sun Girl wasn’t in costume, dressed instead in a plain black minidress and sandals. She wore no makeup and her small face sagged with strain. "Julian is gone," she whimpered.
 

"What happened?" A small spark of anxiety jumped in Orient’s brain.
 

"We took him to the Coliseum two days ago," Argyle said wearily. "While we were there, he disappeared."

 
"Julian doesn’t do things like that." Sun Girl shook her head helplessly.
 

Argyle took her hand. "We looked everywhere for him. Asked all the cabdrivers and people hanging around. Nobody saw him."
 

Orient looked up at Argyle. There was a simple way to find Julian.
 

Simpson ran a hand through his thick Afro. "Yeah, Doc, then I tried that too." He looked questioningly at Raga.
 

"Raga knows the kind of work we’re doing," Orient said. "What happened when you tried to reach him telepathically?"
 

Argyle stared out at the street. "Nothing. Just nothing. I’ve tried calling him three times a day for two days. That’s why I finally called you."
 

Orient didn’t say anything.
 

"I thought that the two of us could combine energy and reach him. There seems to be some kind of block. And it keeps building. Will you help?"
 

Orient nodded. "I’m here," he said quietly.
 

Argyle’s brow furrowed. "Maybe I forgot something in the technique, but I keep getting bumped away every time I try to send."
 

"Bumped?"
 

"Pushed out. Lately I’ve been having trouble just getting myself into a negative receptive."
 

Orient’s question was interrupted by Sun Girl’s distracted exclamation. "We’ve been everywhere. The embassy. The police. Argyle even hired some private detectives and put ads in the personals."
 

Raga’s husky voice was soothing and concerned. "I’m sure that Owen and Argyle can find your friend."
 

Sun Girl smiled slightly. "Julian is my son."
 

"He’s only five. Argyle’s been working on teaching Julian the telepathic technique," Orient said. "Normally it would be the most effective way of reaching him."
 

A waiter approached the table. "I can wait for coffee," Raga said. "Perhaps we should have something back at the hotel. Unless you want to try to contact Julian here?"
 

"No." Orient stood up. "Probably best that we have maximum concentration."
 

The four of them left the cafe and walked quickly to a cab stand at the end of the street.
 

"Does everyone want coffee and sandwiches?" Raga asked when they reached the suite.
 

"We’ll pass on food until after we call Julian," Orient said. "You and Sun Girl wait here."
 

Sun Girl leaned back on the couch and dosed her eyes.
 

"Will you have something while we’re waiting, Sun Girl?" Raga asked, picking up the house phone. "Thanks," Sun Girl murmured as Orient and Argyle left the room. Orient and Argyle went into the bedroom and sat down cross-legged on the carpet, facing each other, silently assuming a full lotus position. They worked slowly, concentrating on their breathing to charge their minds. Then they began sending flashes of images back and forth to each other, establishing a rhythm of alternating pulses, until the pulses began to merge as the rhythm quickened.
 

Orient went negative, received an image, went positive and sent an impulse, then suspended and went negative to receive Argyle’s next picture. As the pulses increased speed, they synchronized and merged, interlocking into a single orbiting vibration. At the same instant both men released all friction on the orbit and sent it hurtling into the void.
 

The squared reality of their merged consciousness sped out, immediately hampered by the scraping pull of interference, some thick, sticky substance that slowed the orbit progressively until the elements of its motion fell apart, shattering its being.
 

They tried again, combining pulses and synchronizing, building up the speed between them, then smoothly slinging the orbit tight into a dense orbit and its mass spun through its presence. Argyle and Orient simultaneously suspended, creating an immense vacuum of yawning negativity that pulled their condensed consciousness back, instantly doubling the speed of their interlocked orbit as it returned to a widening field of negative gravitation, creating an environment of maximum receptivity.
 

Before the orbit could reach the field, the environment was filled with an oppressive density that dogged their senses. Orient’s consciousness shrank away from Argyle’s energy, scattering their orbit as his brain tasted the acidic stench of the density. Their concentration broke and Orient opened his eyes. His face was damp and cold with sweat and his hand shook slightly as he reached for his cigarette case.
 

Argyle stared at Orient, studying him. "That’s the kind of thing I meant," he said softly. "Every time I try it gets stronger, and more difficult."
 

Orient fumbled with a match. "It’s getting strong all right."
 

"What do you think it is?"
 

Orient looked up. "I don’t know. But I think it’s serious." His mind recoiled as he remembered the foul presence that had shaken their communication. It was the same decadent fume that was present on the boat when Janice died, in Marrakesh when Presto died, and on Ischia around Francesca. Alien and predatory.
 

Lammia. The word loomed up in his mind.
 

"Want to try again?" Argyle asked quietly.
 

"Not now." Orient’s thoughts collapsed and a wave of blood rushed into his stomach. The mist was still active. A spurt of nausea seared his throat. He fought down the memory of the thick, sticky density.
 

"Are you okay?"
 

Orient nodded. "It could be dangerous going in there too often. We have to try to keep a high level of concentration."
 

"Any ideas?"
 

"I can’t think right now, Argyle." Orient looked down at the burning tip of his cigarette. It was shaking. "I want to try to sort everything out for a while." Argyle didn’t answer, but he continued to study Orient. "Think it will do any good to keep searching for Julian?"
 

"That’s the only thing we can do." Another rush of fear and confusion crumbled Orient’s thoughts and sent them flowing far away from him.
 

"Okay then." Argyle got to his feet. "We’ll keep looking. But let’s not wait too long getting it together, Doc. Sun Girl’s half nuts with worry and my head’s pretty frazzled too."
 

Orient stood up and slowly followed Argyle into the living room. As they entered, Sun Girl stood up, her hands against her face. "Did you get him?" she asked, her voice wavering. Argyle put his arm around her shoulders. "No, baby," he sighed. "We couldn’t cut it." Sun Girl put her face down and began to sob, her thin shoulders jerking as Argyle rocked her in his arms, whispering softly to her. Orient sat down heavily next to Raga. She touched his hand with her cool fingers, her fragile face clouded with concern.
 

Orient didn’t say anything. Wave after pounding wave of depression surged through his brain, drenching every attempt at thought with defeat. He had failed to destroy the mist. It still preyed. A roaring torrent of realization began whirlpooling through his consciousness, blurring his balance.
 

"I know Rome very well," Raga was saying. "We can start combing the city for Julian. Put his picture in the newspapers." Orient gripped the arms of his chair as the shuddering vertigo sent his senses plummeting toward despair. If the mist still preyed, then he had mistaken the object of his judgment. He still didn’t know the nature of the presence. And he had killed a man for no reason.

CHAPTER 22

Orient was up early the next morning. He paced the terrace listlessly, his limbs stiff from a sleepless, restless night. The guilt and fear lying dormant inside him for the past three weeks boiled through his thoughts, threatening to erupt and shatter his reason.
 

He should have tried to find out more about Six’s work. The rush to cover his own violence had eliminated whatever chance he might have had to find a clue to the nature of the alien presence. Instead, he had followed Pia’s instructions like a scared puppet, eager to find concealment for the blood he had spilled. Even though Francesca had recovered, it meant nothing. Sordi’s cousin was probably right. It had been the old folk healer Mafalda who had cured the girl. He had even been vain enough to believe that he was partially responsible for Francesca’s recovery. But he had done nothing for her. And could do nothing for Julian.
 

"Darling, what are you doing here?" Raga’s sleep-deepened voice blew across his grating frustration like a lubricating wind.
 

"Couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d watch the sunrise."
 

Raga put one hand on his neck and continued to brush her long silver hair with the other. "Are you worried about something? Julian?"
 

Orient nodded. "It’s all back. The same kind of disturbance. Like Janice and Presto."
 

Raga stopped brushing. "But Alistar’s dead," she said softly. It was the first time she had spoken his name since the night Orient killed him.

 
He looked at her. "Can you remember anything Alistar may have told you about his work? Anything at all."
 

"He didn’t talk about it much. Not at all for the past few years. He used to in the beginning. Until I introduced him to Pia." She looked at the brush in her hand. "Then he didn’t tell me anything more."
 

"You introduced them?"
 

"Yes. Pia was one of the models registered with me. We became good friends. She was an exciting companion, daring and free. Then she started feeling ill. I took her to see Alistar. He fell in love with her almost right away. At first I thought it was just a spree, but I was wrong, He was always ambitious, but after Pia he became sullen and mean. Ruthless. Then he became violent. He couldn’t believe that it was all just a game with Pia."
 

"Did he specialize in blood diseases?" Orient was trying to remember something. Something he’d seen.
 

"Not at first. He was a GP and a good one. Then he became obsessed with Pia’s disease. I think he wanted her to be dependent on him. He started doing research. Trying to get recognition for his findings. He seemed to be trying to prove to Pia that he was a great doctor. Then he told her he was working on something that would make all medicine obsolete. A serum that would constantly renew life. But he wouldn’t say what it was. Not even to Pia."
 

"What about Janice?" Orient was trying to find a connection, trying to remember.
 

"Alistar was treating Janice for the same disease Pia had. He often took on free patients and used their treatment in his research."
 

"You mean human guinea pigs."
 

"Yes." Raga started to brush her hair again. "He became ruthless. He would have done anything for Pia."
 

"Didn’t he tell you about the aromatics he used? Where he found his materials?" Orient pressed.
 

"Nothing." She looked at him. "You don’t believe that something
 
Alistar was dong is connected with Julian? It doesn’t make sense. How can it?" Orient took a deep breath and tried to shake the numbness in his body. "I don’t know. Maybe Pia could tell us something."
 

"But she’s in Switzerland."
 

"Do you know where?"
 

Raga’s smile faded. "She didn’t tell me what hospital she was headed for. All she did that night was go over every detail in the house. Covering our tracks." She shivered slightly. "Do you want something to eat?"