Dance Of Death

Hayward breathed out. "I believe it. God help us, I believe it."

FORTY-ONE

ELI Gli

The office lights had been turned off, and the only illumination came from a large flat-panel monitor, which carried a high-definition digital feed from an office in the basement of the EES building. The video feed showed two people: the subject, Pendergast, with EES's psychological specialist, Rolf Krasner, who was preparing the subject for questioning.

Gli

While still watching the proceedings on the monitor, the audio turned off, he turned again to the folder Pendergast had given him.

Although unimportant in the larger scheme of things, Pendergast's case was not without its points. For example, there was the near mythical Cain and Abel relationship between these two extraordinary brothers. For Pendergast was extraordinary-Gli

Gli

On the other hand, Krasner had never had a subject like this one.

Gli

"Mr. Pendergast," Krasner was saying cheerily, "is there anything I can get you before we begin? Water? A soft drink? A double martini?" A chuckle.

"Nothing, thank you."

Pendergast appeared ill at ease, as well he should. EES had developed three different modes of interrogation, each for a particular personality type, along with an experimental fourth mode to be used only on the most difficult, resistant-and intelligent-subjects. After they had read through Pendergast's folder and discussed the situation, there was no argument over which mode would be used. Pendergast would be only the sixth person to undergo this fourth type of interrogation. It had never failed.

"We use some of the techniques of good, old-fashioned psychoanalysis," Krasner said. "And one of them is that we ask you to lie down on a couch, out of view of the questioner. Would you please make yourself comfortable?"

The figure lay down on the richly brocaded couch and folded his white hands on his chest. Except for the ragged clothes, he looked alarmingly like the corpse at a wake. What a fascinating creature this man is, Gli

"Perhaps you recognize the office we're in, Mr. Pendergast?" Krasner said, bustling about, getting ready.

"I do. Number 19 Berggasse."

"Exactly! Modeled after Freud's own office in Vie

"German is not one of my languages, much to my regret. I should have liked to read Goethe's Faust in the original."

"A marvelous work, vigorous and yet poetic." Krasner took a seat on a wooden stool out of Pendergast's view.

"Do you employ the free-association methods of psychoanalysis?" Pendergast asked dryly.

"Oh, no! We've developed a technique all our own. It's very straightforward, actually-no tricks, no dream interpretations. The only thing Freudian about our technique is the office decor." He chuckled again.

Gli

"I'm going to help you through some simple visualization techniques, which will also involve questioning. It's simple and there is no hypnosis involved. It's just a way to induce a calm and focused mind, receptive to questioning. Does that suit you, Aloysius? May I call you by your first name?"

"You may, and I am at your disposal, Dr. Krasner. I am only concerned that I may not be able to give you the information you desire, because I do not believe it exists."

"Do not concern yourself with that. Simply relax, follow my instructions, and answer the questions as best you can."

Relax. Gli

"Wonderful. Now I'm going to turn down the lights. I will also ask you to close your eyes."

"As you wish."

The lights dimmed to a faint diffuse glow.

"Now we will allow three minutes to pass in silence," said Krasner.

The minutes crawled by.

"Let us begin." Krasner's voice had taken on a hushed, velvety tone. Another long silence, and then he resumed.

"Breathe in slowly. Hold it. Now let it out even more slowly. Again. Breathe in, hold, breathe out. Relax. Very good. Now, I want you to imagine you are at your favorite place in all the world. The place where you feel most at home, most comfortable. Take a minute to place yourself there. Now turn around, examine your surroundings. Sample the air. Take in the scents, the sounds. Now, tell me: What do you see?"

A momentary silence. Gli

"I am on a vast green lawn at the edge of an ancient beechwood forest. There is a summerhouse at the far end of the lawn. There are gardens and a millhouse to the west, where a brook flows. The lawn sweeps up to a stone mansion, shaded by elms."

"What is this place?"

"Ravenscry. The estate of my Great-Aunt Cornelia."

"And what is the year and season?"

"It is 1972, the ides of August."

"How old are you?"

"Twelve."

"Inhale the air again. What scents can you smell?"