Chapter Text
. . . belief in the occult leads to a deterioration in reason.
MONDAY: SEANCE 1
Victoria woke in Ivan's arms. She lay for several minutes, eyes closed, trying to ignore the fact her hand, wedged under his back, was tingling from reduced circulation.
"You're awake." Ivan shifted so she could extract her hand. "I should leave. Can you see time?"
She opened an eye and located the clock, visible over his shoulder. "Six o'clock. No one will expect us downstairs until 8."
His arm tightened. He shifted position onto his back, pulling her onto his chest. "It will be easy to take risks here. We must be careful, not greedy."
"I agree." Against her lips, his cheeks were rough with stubble. Against her body his skin was warm and a little damp where they had been touching as they slept. "Does it matter where you shower?"
By the time they showered together, and Ivan departed through the secret panel, it was 7:30 a.m. A glimpse between her bedroom curtains showed the weather outside had not improved overnight.
Joe Deauville was the only one in the breakfast room, but coffee, a tank of heated water, and basket of muffins had already been placed on the sideboard. The table was back in the center of the room.
"Good morning." Joe put down the paper he had been reading and stood. "Mrs. Evelyn said there would be additional food in a few minutes."
"Coffee is fine. Please sit down. I'm Victoria. There were a lot of introductions last night."
"I remember. I'm Joe." He gestured around them. "Crazy place. American castle."
"It has charm." Victoria took the chair next to him, casually glancing up as Ivan entered the room. "Good morning, Dr. Liebman."
Ivan was wearing the spectacles, and looked amazingly awake. "Victoria. Joe. This is a most restful place. I can't remember spending a better night in an unfamiliar bed."
A surge of heat flushed blood into her neck and face. Victoria buried her face in the coffee cup.
Joe laughed. "Yeah. Who says money can't buy a good night's sleep? And the bathroom -- I could live in that."
Victoria was saved from whatever double entendre Ivan was working on by the sound of voices in the hallway. Dulcinea and Hero entered a second later, followed closely by Fay, Hannah and Ben. Food in covered serving trays began to arrive as the chairs around the table filled up.
There was a friendly, quiet quality to the informal meal. Ivan behaved himself impeccably, bringing a blush to Fay and Hannah's cheeks, and made Dulcinea laugh as he charmed both young and old ladies. He was a superb actor, totally convincing as the slightly formal, but personable, academic. His vocal cadences and physical mannerisms were unique to the Liebman character; he brought his legend to life. The exhibition of tradecraft made Victoria feel a little envious, and consider whether she would do as well in a similar assignment.
When the Graylings arrived at 9:00 and Dulcinea and Hero left the room, Victoria followed.
"The lawyer will be in the library. I'm sure Mrs. Evelyn will have everything set up, but I'd like to see." Dulcinea paused to give Victoria a lengthy inspection. "You're trying to look like a secretary, and failing somewhat. It's not the clothes, exactly . . ." she shook her head. "We can drive into town as soon as the lawyer leaves. The estate doesn't have a full time driver right now, but there is a car in the garage for our use."
"Thank you." Victoria wondered what it was about her navy blue trousers, jacket and white blouse that didn't conform to Dulcinea's vision of a secretary, then put it out of her mind.
The library was floor-to-ceiling bookshelves on three of the four walls. Chairs had already been placed in front of the gleaming mahogany desk. While they waited, Victoria browsed along book titles, and assessed the rest of the room's interior. More oak paneling. More landscapes in gilded frames. Ornate plaster medallions on the ceiling and above the door and window. A wide windowseat. The desk. Everywhere she looked, a potential hiding place.
Good luck to anyone who tried to conduct a random search in this room, Victoria thought with dismay. It was obvious she needed to know more about Dr. Kokintz and Sterling Durant than the dry facts in the dossier provided, if she was going to solve this mystery.
The remaining guests gradually drifted in from breakfast. Mrs. Evelyn came in with the lawyer, who took possession of the desk. Yasmine Lee was last through the door, exactly as the second hand on Victoria's watch clicked onto the hour.
The lawyer cleared his throat. "Good morning. I'm Mr. Easterly, one of Mr. Durant's lawyers. I'll keep this short. Upon Mr. Durant's death I was instructed to arrange for a series of five consecutive seances. Fay Marie Green and Yasmine Lee were Mr. Durant's preferred mediums, although he included alternates for each category we will cover. As potential beneficiaries, the Mountjoy family and the Grayling family were requested to be present. A list of professionals who might lend their expertise to a fair judgment of the proceedings resulted in my contacting Dr. Liebman, Mr. Braeden and Mr. Deauville. Mr. Hero was also on that list, and Miss Brown is acting on behalf of the Duchy of Grand Fenwick. Are there any questions so far?"
No one spoke. Easterly continued. "The goal of the seances is to contact the spirit of Mr. Sterling Durant. If the seances fail, Durant Castle passes to Grand Fenwick. If proof of contact is achieved, Durant Castle passes to the Unified Spiritualist Church of the Americas."
"What will constitute proof?" Fay Green asked.
"That will be up to the ten participants. Audible, visual manifestation, automatic writing are among the indicators Mr. Durant has listed. At the end of the seances a vote will be taken on whether any phenomena indicate proof of survival. Mr. Durant notes that America is a democracy, and majority rules. In case of a tie, Mrs. Evelyn will be given a vote."
"But she hates us," Ruth Grayling protested. "She was always insubordinate when we had our weekends here."
Easterly snapped his briefcase shut. "Mr. Durant trusted her to make an honest judgment. I will verify and document each seance with Mr. Braeden. There are copies here of Mr. Durant's instruction document. Any further questions? Good."
There were a great many thoughtful faces, but no happy ones. Victoria watched Yasmine Lee leave without a saying a word, closely followed by the Graylings and Ivan.
"Come on Victoria. Let's get out of the cozy castle into sleet." Hero stood at the bottom of the stairway. "You'll need your raincoat. Dulcy? Shall I get yours?"
She waved a hand at them, and continued speaking with Easterly, who looked as if he wanted to run straight out into the weather.
By the time they returned with coats, Easterly was gone and Dulcinea was staring moodily out a window.
The brief walk to the garage left them damp and chilled. The weather was fiercer and darker than when they arrived, and the unanimous decision was for Hero to act as driver. Victoria regretted that decision once they were on the road. Even though the driving was bad, she found being a passenger was too passive a role for her. In the front seat next to Hero, Dulcinea kept up a constant, nervous commentary on road hazards and conditions. Victoria shut her eyes, tried to ignore the sound of hard water bouncing off car windows, and organized the information she would have to pass to London.
"Where are we taking you?"
They had made it from country to town. Upon opening her eyes, she noted Hero's knuckles were clenched too tightly around the steering wheel, although his shoulders were fairly relaxed. Victoria gave him the directions she had been given, and a few minutes later Hero pulled the car to the curb in front of a building that advertised itself as Ye Olde Irish Pub.
"Find somewhere warm and get Dulcinea a drink. I'll meet you back here in two hours." Victoria stepped out of the car before either of them could ask questions or argue.
The interior of the Pub was scarcely populated by incurious early drinkers. Victoria found the phone in back near the toilets and rang the number HQ had given her. It took less than ten minutes for a car to respond to her coded request for pickup, and another ten to pull into a covered car park next to a private residence.
"Miss Winslow." A tall, grey haired woman in a black dress opened the door. Her expression was neutral, verging on blank.
"Yes." Victoria added the appropriate coded identification and waited. She kept her hand on the gun in the pocket of her raincoat. But the woman nodded and made the correct reply. She was shown to a small room that held only a desk, chair and phone. Victoria sat down and picked up the phone. When someone finally answered on the other end, she recognized Chief of Staff Tanner's voice.
"Yes?"
"Russian agent Ivan Simanov, and probable Chinese agent Yasmine Lee, are at Durant Castle." Victoria delivered the succinct, unemotional brief she had prepared in her mind during the ride into Boston. "What are my instructions?"
Tanner was silent, then: "This has to go upstairs. If you kill them it can't be messy. Thoughts?"
"There are sheer bluffs near the castle, overlooking the sea. The castle has steep stone stairways," Victoria said. "Something can always be arranged. You have people here who could make bodies disappear, if it's necessary to use a gun?"
"Yes. Do you believe what Simanov says about his government's intentions?"
"I have no information on which to base any judgment about his story." She'd worked on that answer, knowing the question would come up.
"That's our job, eh?" Tanner barked a laugh. "Wait by the phone until I ring back."
Victoria relaxed into the straight, uncomfortable chair. She folded her hands and waited for London to work through the clues; the self-hypnosis technique she'd developed as a child, to escape during endless night meetings she was forced to attend with her mother, came in useful now. Victoria's mind floated in a clear, calm, timeless space.
When the phone rang, she didn't jump, merely left her sea of tranquility and answered. "Yes?"
It was M. "We've verified some of Simanov's story. There are concerns about the Chinese, from several sources. Your primary mission remains unchanged. Ensure the property passes into Grand Fenwick's ownership. Find what Dr. Kokintz left, if possible. There will be more discussion here concerning Simanov and Lee. Phone tomorrow, same time."
"Yes, sir."
"Two additional things. If they had such designations, Simanov would be the Russian equivalent of 00. And there's an American agent on scene."
"Joe Deauville." He was the only one it could be.
"Joe Matheson." M almost sounded depressed. "Stay on your toes, Miss Winslow."
Victoria checked her watch as the car returned her to the Pub. One hour and fifty-five minutes had passed. She doubted Dulcinea and Hero would be on time. She walked directly to the pub's toilets and shut herself into a stall. For a whirling, terrible moment she thought she would be sick. Leaning against the battered metal wall Victoria took deep breaths, working to recover her calm. They had another day's reprieve.
She washed her hands, stopped at the bar to order a scotch, then slid into an empty booth. She forced herself to drink the liquor slowly. By the time Victoria heard Hero's voice hail her, her equilibrium was rock steady again.
The trip back to the castle was, if anything, more harrowing than the trip into town. Ice generously coated the roads in sheer black sheets. It was nearly 3:00 when they pulled into the garage.
"I'm going to curl up in a chair in my bedroom and read magazines." Dulcinea stopped just before leaving the garage. "Do either of you want to join me?"
"If I can drink and smoke," Hero said, turning his collar up around his neck.
Victoria declined. "Thank you, but I'm going to speak with Mrs. Evelyn." She followed them up the stairs, hung her wet raincoat in her room, checked to see the wedge at the bottom of the panel was undisturbed, then went in search of Mrs. Evelyn's office. She found her without trouble, as the door facing the hall to the kitchen stood wide open.
"Sit down Miss Brown. I'll tell you anything I can."
Victoria looked around the tidy office. "There's another door in the corridor, before this one."
"That was Sterling's work office. He had another private office off his bedroom suite." Mrs. Evelyn pointed to a door in the wall to the right of her desk. "You can get in through here, too. Shall I unlock it?"
"Please. I'd like to look around. But first, what can you tell me about Dr. Kokintz and Mr. Durant. Anything, casual, personal, funny, strange. You knew them both. It would help me understand them better."
Victoria spent the next forty minutes doing more listening than asking questions. When one of the boys interrupted with a domestic question, she thanked Mrs. Evelyn and asked her to open the office door.
It was a small office, scrupulously neat and sparse. There were no obvious wall or floor safes. None of the desk drawers were locked. Victoria spent several minutes reading the headings of file folders in two cabinets, and found only receipts for estate purchases, and two bulky folders stuffed with correspondence bearing letterheads from California wineries. Attached to at least half of these letters were carbon copy originals signed by Dr. Kokintz. It looked like both Durant and Kokintz had been interested in east coast wineries.
Finding nothing of further immediate interest, Victoria exited through the door in Mrs. Evelyn's office. She gestured at the large floor safe in the opposite corner of the room.
"Did the lawyers --?"
"Yes. Mr. Easterly went through that after Sterling's death. I use it for petty cash, and the estate records I handle."
"Thank you. I appreciate your help. You'll let me know if you need my help?"
"Oh. How nice." Mrs. Evelyn looked slightly embarrassed. "We always had more staff. The lawyers said we had to run bare bones until the will was settled. I feel like I'm abusing guests."
"We're not exactly guests, and you're coping wonderfully. I'll even do dishes, or help with laundry if you need an extra set of hands." Victoria saw the smile of real approval displace Mrs. Evelyn's official mask. "Do you have a minute to give me a tour of the working part of the house?"
Victoria returned to her rooms without seeing another soul. She locked her door behind her and looked at her watch. Three more hours until they would set out the dinner buffet, then two more hours before the 9 o'clock starting time for the seance. It was dim and quiet in the room; even the daylight filtering through the draperies was dusky grey. Kicking off her shoes, she sat on the edge of the bed and thought about taking a nap. Victoria had just laid her head on the pillow when she heard the single, short rap on the panel.
A little wiggling and quick tug, and the wedge holding the panel closed came free. Ivan extended his arm, waving a vodka bottle, before he stepped through. Victoria replaced the wedge and double checked the lock on her door.
"It looks like home outside." Ivan had made himself comfortable on the bed, piling all the pillows behind his back. He was removing the top of the vodka bottle when she crawled up next to him.
"I wish this room had a radio," Victoria said quietly. "Have you checked to see how much sound carries through all this oak?"
"Very little, if any from the hallway." Ivan took a drink from the bottle, then closed his eyes and sighed. He handed the bottle to her.
Victoria took two long swallows. The liquor stole her breath for a moment, then settled like a small bonfire in her stomach. "I'm to ring them back tomorrow."
Ivan took the bottle from her, replaced the top and set it on the nightstand. "Come here." He pulled her into the crook of his arm and rested his face in her hair for a moment. "That's better. We continue working together then."
"For now." The heat from his body reached her through their clothes. Victoria closed her eyes and felt the tension in her muscles disappear as the warmth from within and without spread along her limbs. "I spoke with Mrs. Evelyn. She thinks spiritualists as a species are nothing but parasites. Sterling Durant had stopped the weekend retreats six months before his death, and spent hours in the library, and in the room at the top of the castle. She says Dr. Kokintz was a darling man, who dragged Durant off into the woods for hours bird watching, when the two of them weren't puttering in the greenhouses. He would never have participated in ghost shenanigans, according to Mrs. Evelyn."
"Interesting."
Victoria raised her head and found his eyes were closed. "Are you going to sleep, or tell me what you did while I was gone?"
"Da." He grinned without opening his eyes. "Lee does not want anyone to examine that cabinet closely, so later tonight I will try. A small Chinese man has been going back and forth between hidden van, stables and house through the passages to Lee's room. "
"Does her bodyguard use the passageways? I haven't seen him yet."
"He would have difficult time in many places. He is very large. I hope not to come across him, it would be difficult to remove body." His hand stroked her hip.
Victoria replaced her head on his chest. "Deauville is an American agent. His real name is Matheson."
"Somehow this does not surprise me."
"The Graylings will need six votes to get the property. If you add Lee that makes three for sure." She felt herself begin to relax toward sleep. The thought that, until Ivan, she had never slept comfortably with another person in the same bed drifted through her mind. "Dulcinea, Hero, and I make three against. They will not know where your vote would fall."
"Putting me, Fay, Ben, and the American agent in their undecided category?"
"If we move Fay into the Grayling's column, since I would judge her to be more easily convinced than Ben, that leaves you, Deauville and Ben as the turning votes. They will need two out of three."
"Ben will be targeted during the seances," Ivan agreed. "I will be targeted after the seances. Sleep now. We will see what occurs this evening."
Secure, at home against his body, Victoria fell asleep.
"Victoria. Wake."
The room was very dark. Victoria lifted her wrist and found it was 6:30. She had slept for nearly two hours. Ivan found her chin and tilted her face into a quick kiss.
"Time to go to work." He left the room in the dark, quiet and sure-footed.
Palazzo pants had been the fashion industry's gift to the female agent, Victoria thought as she buckled on the ankle strap for the .38. Midnight blue velvet was as good for camouflage in the dark as black, and didn't make her look like a total corpse. The matching midnight blue, long-sleeved knit shirt had a high boat collar, leaving only a scoop of flesh across her collarbones visible below her face when she turned out the lights and inspected herself in the mirror. A scarf then.
Victoria turned the lights back on and found a silk scarf patterned with dark blue and deep green circles. She twisted it and tied it like a head band, letting the ends fall over her shoulders. If necessary she could shake it out, cover her hair and tie the ends around her neck for night work.
When she entered the hallway, she saw Ivan and Hero disappearing down the stairs together. She nearly followed, then turned and walked to Dulcinea's door and knocked.
"Come in." Dulcinea was wearing a simple silk dress of a deep chocolate color that would have made another woman look elderly. Dulcinea looked like something that would melt in the mouth. Victoria watched her fasten a triple row of pearls with admiration.
"You look absolutely gorgeous."
Dulcinea looked startled, then amused. "Thank you. I can't really take the credit. I was given the raw material, didn't have to work for it."
"What are you studying?" Victoria walked beside her as they left the rooms.
"Business management, with forays into horticulture, psychology, politics and languages." Dulcinea paused halfway down the stairway and glanced above and below. "Are you sleeping with him?"
Victoria froze. How could she know about Ivan? "Dulcinea. What are you asking me?"
Dulcinea turned to face her full on. "Are you sleeping with Hero?"
Hero; that explained the question. Some of the relief she felt must have made it to her face. The tension went out of Dulcinea's shoulders.
"You're not. I can see it. Sorry, Victoria. I was sure . . ."
"I'm not sleeping with Hero. We just met." Victoria touched her arm. "Come on. This isn't the place. I need to return to Boston tomorrow. You can go with me. We'll have lunch and gossip."
"That sounds lovely." Dulcinea continued her unconsciously regal walk down the stairs. "You're sleeping with someone."
"Bugger." Victoria heard Dulcinea snort, then found they were both giggling like school girls. "I think you should do very well in business management."
Almost everyone was in the breakfast room. Victoria sat beside Dulcinea after they filled their plates at the sideboard. She was easy to talk to, dryly funny and piercingly observant. Joe sat near them mostly listening and laughing. The smokers had already begun to cluster around the patio doors by the time they finished eating.
"Have you seen the seance room yet? Sterling converted the music room to a kind of chapel." Dulcinea led them through an arched hallway Victoria hadn't yet explored. "This is the ground floor of the south wing. Games room here," she pointed at a heavy wooden door with massive iron workings, "old music room here."
Joe whistled as they entered. "Church at home never looked like this."
The high vaulted ceiling had been painted black, with a delicate tracery of stars and moons barely visible. The south wall from waist height to ceiling was built of three wide windows capped with half-moon shaped stained glass. The wainscotting beneath the windows, and the rest of the walls was painted eggshell grey to match the slate colored carpet.
Lee's cabinet sat beneath the apex of the ceiling, facing the windows in front of a half-moon shaped table with chairs arranged along the curving side. Victoria walked around the lacquered black box. It was about ten feet around, covered with Chinese symbols painted in red. Three sides appeared to be solid, with the front covered with a double curtain. Victoria fingered the layers. The outside curtain was semi-transparent, a neutral color of coarsely woven cloth. The inside curtain was matt black.
"Please. Do not touch." Yasmine Lee appeared at the entrance to the room. "All influences must be neutralized before I can enter the cabinet."
Victoria caught the sideways look from Dulcinea. What did that mean, influences must be neutralized? Most likely it meant Lee didn't want anyone touching the cabinet. "Of course." She removed her hand from the curtain and joined Joe and Dulcinea by the windows. It was already fully dark outside.
"Never quite got to be day. I wouldn't be surprised to wake up tomorrow and find a foot of snow on the ground."
Joe was wearing a shoulder holster under his corduroy jacket. With the leather elbow patches, the well-worn garment gave him the look of a solid academic, if you ignored the presence of the gun. He had a thin, intelligent face with laughing, clever eyes that somehow reminded her of Ivan's.
"Want to sit and talk while we wait?" Joe gestured toward the chairs.
"Victoria will keep you company; I'm going to leave you. I'll make sure everyone finds their way here."
They watched Dulcinea pass Yasmine Lee with a gracious nod.
"She's the way I imagine your queen would be," Joe said. "Imperious and gracious."
"She's not English," Victoria protested. "And although I probably shouldn't say, our queen never looked like Dulcinea. Do you think she's going to stand there until everyone comes in?"
"Lee? No. There she goes. The bodyguard has arrived to take over. What do you think he weighs?"
The Triad had arrived. Victoria assessed the man who stood next to the cabinet, feet apart, arms folded.
"An inch or two over six feet," she said. "Mixed race, Chinese and Caucasian I think. Body builder. Strong, but his muscles are too bulky."
"For what?" Joe laughed. "Are you talking aesthetics or function?"
"Maybe both, from my point of view." And carried knives at both ankles, and up his black satin sleeves.
"I'd agree. And he's got knives at both ankles, and up his sleeves."
"Probably accurate with them, too. How much do you know about Voodoo, Joe?" Victoria turned to face him.
"Quite a bit. We should have a talk." He winked at her and smiled. "I'm sure I could tell you a few things you don't know."
Ivan and Ben came into the room, heading toward the recording equipment. In a few minutes most of the guests had arrived and found seats at the table. Victoria checked her watched when Yasmine returned, followed by Dulcinea who shut the door behind them. It was 8:35.
"Since we're all here, we can get started." Dulcinea stood between the cabinet and the front of the table. "The mediums have asked for extra time at this session, to let us know what they will expect, and what we might expect. For the remaining seances, each medium will have approximately an hour of sitting time, with flexibility allowed to accommodate events. Ben will record and journal each evening's seance. Hannah will also journal each seance. Mrs. Green, I'll let you begin."
Dulcinea took a seat next to Ivan, and Fay pulled a chair to the spot Dulcinea had been standing.
"First I want to speak about receptivity." Fay looked around the table. "Most of you don't believe in what we're going to do. It would make my job easier if you did, but belief isn't strictly necessary for a successful seance. What we can't have is active negativity. I see smart, intelligent people here who can make the commitment to quiet their minds and remain passive and observant even if they don't think anything real will happen. When we gather for these seances the first thing we'll do is spend a few minutes in reflection and meditation. I usually play music during this time. While I sit, I will ask you to join hands and hold in your thoughts the objective we seek: communication with Sterling Durant.
"Most of you never met Sterling. But the home he created has been all around you since you arrived. Consider what a home says about a person. Imagine what the man who finished building this wonderful place must have been like." Fay got stiffly to her feet. "That's enough for now. Miss Lee, it's your turn."
"Thank you, Mrs. Green." Yasmine Lee took center stage in front of her cabinet. "I am a physical medium. I use this cabinet to focus my energy. Dr. Braedon has been invited to inspect it, but I would prefer it not be casually touched. It is a balanced place of power, and can be disturbed. When it comes time for me to sit, I will give additional instructions. I believe it will be good if Mrs. Green begins each evening. Her ritual of preparation will serve us both." Lee nodded to Fay, then moved the chair back behind the table and sat down.
"I'm going to shuffle you all around a little. I'd like to be in the center of the table," Fay said. "Miss Lee, you may stay at that end; Ben you may stay at the other end, near your equipment. Sister Ruth next to Ben, then Franz, Dulcinea and Hero. On my right Brother John, Victoria, Joe, and Mrs. Evelyn next to Miss Lee." Fay waited for them to take their new seats. "Hannah will give each of you a pad of paper and a pen to keep in front of you. These may be used for writing down messages that come into your mind, or in the event that one of you becomes a channel for automatic writing. I know Sister Ruth has the gift for this. Hannah will operate the record player and the lights. "
The record player was situated near the master light switches at the left side of the door. Hannah hovered there, a sober expression on her pale face. She set the stylus on a record and something classical with a gentle melody began to play. The lights dimmed.
"Close your eyes and listen," Fay said. "I believe we are all children of God, brothers and sisters in a universal family. I believe in the divine energy that allows communication between physical bodies and spirits, who are part of the divine energy and so indestructible. I believe death is only a change of state. I believe we each bear personal responsibility for the use of our energy, and the readiness of our spirit, and that death does not mean the end of the spirit's growth."
Victoria studied what she could see of the participants through her eyelashes. Everyone was cooperating. Bodies and faces told the same story.
"Thank you Hannah," Fay said after several minutes. The music stopped and the lights dimmed further. "Please hold hands. I'm going to listen now."
Her mother had dragged her to a hundred similar services, but Fay had the most sincere, sympathetic presentation she had ever seen. Victoria felt the hair rise on the back of her neck as a low humming noise began to come from Fay. She hadn't heard many mediums do that. Joe's fingers tightened around hers; he'd felt a change in her grip
Victoria squeezed his fingers in response, then forced herself to relax and try to ignore the dead weight of Brother John's blocky, unmoving fingers closed around her other hand.
"I just don't feel him here, Hannah." Fay stopped humming and began to speak in a casual, conversational voice. "I hear a couple of hitchhikers, but they're slow and shy. I get an echo, an imprint of his energy from the plants, but that's just earth memory. It's so peaceful, that's why he loved his castle. So quiet. Just earth and sea. Earth and sea." She was quiet for a minute.
"If they listen, they might hear the ones who travel with them. Softly, softly, sweet heart. An apple a day, a little wine for your stomach's sake. It's not right, the things you do. Not right."
The humming began again. After a while Fay stopped. "You can drop hands now. I'd like to start with Ben and ask if anything came into your thoughts."
"My wife used to say that to me." Ben's voice was harsh. His face looked strained in the dim light. "It would be easy to find out. She said it a lot."
"Which part?" Hero asked, leaning toward him.
"She use to say - Softly, softly, sweetheart, when I was arguing with other faculty members."
"Let it go for now. Sister Ruth?"
"I felt Sterling, if you didn't," Ruth said. "Not close, but waiting."
"Dr. Liebman?"
"Nein."
"Dulcinea?"
"No. Nothing."
"Mr. Hero?"
"No."
"Mr. Deauville?"
"Nothing."
"Victoria?"
"Sorry."
"Brother John?"
"I, too felt Sterling. But Sister Ruth and I have been with him in this room many times. We are more attuned to his spiritual energy. He needs more encouragement from us."
"Miss Lee?"
"I feel energies in this place. I will probe deeper in my turn."
"Then I am done for now." Fay sighed and slumped in her chair. "I reached as deeply as I could."
"There is no need to hold hands. Please remain in your seats while I am in the cabinet." Lee pulled back the curtains and sat down in the metal frame chair in the center of the small stage.
"There is a control switch on the right arm of this chair for the cabinet lights. They are red, the only light which can be used without ill effect if I am manifesting ectoplasm. My guard will fix metal cuffs to my wrists, to keep my body from trying to wander while I am in a trance. Dr. Liebman has inspected the cuffs. Once I am restrained, the guard will pull the outer curtain to complete the integrity of the cabinet's circle about me. The secondary curtain is used for times when I need complete seclusion in the circle. When only the outer curtain is in place, you will be able to see me at all times."
The bulky Chinese man fastened a single metal cuff under each chair arm, over each of Lee's wrists, then returned to stand beside the cabinet. Lee lifted her wrists to show she had about two inches of slack in the cuffs, then bowed her head. "Please turn the lights off."
Even with the uncovered windows, the room was black. Victoria could see the tiny lights on Ben's recording instruments, and as her eyes adapted she could make out the difference in opacity between bodies and the general environment. As she focused on the outline of the cabinet, red lights began to glow and grow.
It was a sophisticated piece of equipment, no doubt. Faintly touched by the red lights, it was possible to see Lee's body as a dark shape. Her face was quite visible. She looked like a statue, eyes closed, head slightly bowed. The coarse curtain gave a quality of ancient tapestry to her pose. Minutes passed, and Lee did not move.
A current of chill wind fanned against Victoria's face, bringing smells of grass and fruit into the air around them. She heard Brother John and Sister Ruth speak almost in unison.
"He's here. I feel him."
"You've reached him, Sister Lee."
"Touched, but not touching." Yasmine Lee stared straight out at her audience. "Sterling Durant? We're ready to speak with you." Another few minutes passed, then Lee shook her head slowly. "I cannot reach him. Minds must be more prepared."
The red lights disappeared, and Victoria could see nothing.
It was only a few moments before Hannah brought the lights back up. Lee's guard was already releasing her from the chair.
"It was a good beginning," Sister Ruth said, the sound of premature victory in her voice. "I have faith we will reach Sterling before much longer."
"Sandro. What is this?" Dulcinea's sharp question cut across Ruth's words. She was pointing at the paper in front of her.
Hero picked it up. "My little sparrow." He raised his eyebrows and looked at Ivan.
"I did not put it there. Does it mean something to Countess Mountjoy?"
Dulcinea was staring at the paper with distaste. "What it means I will discuss with Sandro first." She stood. "I'm going to the breakfast room for a drink. Please join me there, if you wish." She took Hero's arm and hauled him from the chapel.
Everyone but Yasmine returned to the breakfast room. Fay, on Hannah's arm stopped just long enough to say she was going to bed. The old woman looked pale and tired.
Victoria let Joe pour her a brandy, which she took to a chair near the sofa in front of the window where Dulcinea and Hero huddled together, looking at the paper. Ivan was already lighting a cigarette for Sister Ruth near the patio door. The scent of snow came in through the hair's breadth open door.
"What does it mean to you?" Brother John stooped to put more wood into the fireplace and poke the flames to greater life.
"This is a phrase used by a family friend, who is now dead," Dulcinea said carefully. "Well known by many people."
"Similar to the phrase that Mrs. Green used." Joe looked a question at Ben, who had joined the smokers and was accepting a cigarette from Ivan.
"Yes." Ben nodded. His voice sounded angry as he added, "Well known by many people."
"If you feel you're being tricked, it will contaminate our sessions." Sister Ruth's bosom was heaving. She put her fingers on Ivan's arm and took a step closer, leaning toward him. "Franz. You were sitting next to Countess Mountjoy. Did anything alert you to another presence at the end of Miss Lee's sitting?"
Ivan smiled through the smoke. "Nein. I am sorry."
Victoria cleared her throat. "Ben, what will your routine be for securing the recordings, and journaling each evening's activities?"
"Thank you for the reminder, Victoria. I'll return to the chapel now and remove the recording media. I'd like to listen to a sample each evening. Mrs. Evelyn will secure the tapes for me in her office safe. I plan to write in my journal immediately afterward as well."
"May I suggest that either Mr. Hero or Dr. Liebman stay with you during this routine? Until you finish your journal. And perhaps, keep that in Mrs. Evelyn's safe as well?"
Ben looked perplexed. "I don't mind the company. Be boring for them, though. Why are you suggesting this, Victoria?"
She saw Hero looking at her with warm approval. "Just being proactive."
"I'll stick with Ben. Dulcy, you go to bed. I know you don't keep late nights." Hero took the note from her hand. "We'll include this with the journal and tapes."
"Right." Dulcinea stood up. "Good evening."
"I'm going as well. Sister?" Brother John put one last log onto the fire.
"Rest well, Brother. I'm going to take Franz into the library. He's interested in the work we do in the Church." Sister Ruth hooked her arm through Ivan's. "Let's find a comfortable spot to sit and put our heads together."
Victoria watched the fire as they left the room. "That leaves us, Joe." She finished the brandy and went to inspect the buffet table. She found the vodka bottle and filled her glass a third full. "There's a billard room near the chapel."
"I'd make you cry like a little girl." Joe refilled his own glass with whiskey. "Maybe we could find a game where we'd be more evenly matched."
"That's a rather big assumption. What did you have in mind?" The vodka tasted like power and Ivan. Victoria licked the roof of her mouth and thought about killing Sister Ruth with a single, quick shot. It was an unnecessary, but pleasant fantasy.
"Darts?"
"You poor man. I'd make you cry like a girl."
Joe laughed, finished his drink, then slipped the vodka bottle into one jacket pocket, the whiskey bottle into the other. "Why don't you show me your rooms? Grab glasses, if you don't mind."
The door to the library was closed. Victoria climbed the stairs beside Joe and reflected that, for as many guests as Castle Durant was presently entertaining, she seldom saw anyone casually wandering about.
"You're in the south wing?"
"Yeah. Next to the Brother and Sister, and the Lee woman." Joe stepped into her bedroom, shut the door and slid the bolt home behind them. "How long since you've been in here?"
"Three hours." Victoria watched him excavate his pockets and put the bottles on the nightstand. She added the glasses.
Without a word they divided the room between them. Victoria ran her hands over the panel as she searched, removing the wedge. She made a quick evaluation of the bathroom after they finished with the bedroom. All was as she had left it.
"There's a bug in Countess Mountjoy's room," Joe said. He kicked off his boots and made himself comfortable on her bed. "That's the only one I've found. They've got a listening post set up in a van in the woods." He patted the mattress next to him. "We need to make it look like we're having sex, so they won't get suspicious. The best way I can think to do that is have sex."
"How romantic. Consider that you might find suspicion preferable to a bullet through an irreplaceable portion of your anatomy." Victoria filled both glasses and handed him his whiskey. "You're CIA? And the real Joe Deauville?"
"That's the hell of it." He lifted his glass in salute and grinned. "I am the real Joe Deauville. It's my identity among the immigrant community in Florida, Louisiana and elsewhere. Voodoo, Santeria, the white boys were getting scared at the bureau. I'm head of my own department. When Durant's lawyer called, they told me to come on up to the cold, white part of the US of A and find out what I could about Dr. Kokintz' legacy."
Victoria sat down on the bed near his feet. "Talk."
"The Graylings contacted Joe Deauville with an offer. Ten thousand dollars for his vote."
"You said yes."
"I said hell yes." Joe let his head rest back against the headboard and studied her. "They need two more votes. Coming in I would have said Fay Green. Now I'm not sure. Braeden got shook tonight, but Hero will calm him down."
"I reached a similar conclusion, although you were in the undecided column."
"So by my reckoning, that only leaves Dr. Liebman in the undecided column, unless they manage to unnerve Ben. I'll bet Sister Ruth is offering a little something for Liebman's services right now. I got the impression she was more than willing to take one for the team." Joe grinned over the edge of his glass. "And while we're speaking about sex, and who's probably having it, Brother John and the bride of Fu Manchu are getting it on. She's got short leather whips in long leather cases, and they aren't quiet when they go at it."
"You can hear them?" It was a troubling idea, for several reasons.
Joe snorted. "A few thuds. All this oak and the extra space between the walls smothers sound. No, they gave me Lee's file from the San Francisco post. They've been watching her, and listening, for a while. Brother John's been out there for the past month. You know she's representing the Chinese?"
"Of course."
"She needs the Graylings to carry the vote. Once the Church takes possession, they can search the Castle methodically, take all the time they need."
"Foolish man." Victoria finished her vodka. "Durant. Taken in by common frauds."
"He wasn't the first, won't be the last." Joe set his glass down on the nightstand. "Maybe we'll have time to talk about some of the things I've seen in Louisiana bayous."
Victoria heard the soft snick of sound from the paneling. "That's a better offer than sex," she said.
Ivan paused to fish in his pocket, then pressed a wedge under the panel. "Joe. Victoria. Am I interrupting something?"
Joe, very carefully, did not move his hand toward his gun, Victoria noticed with approval.
"I feel like I should be asking that question." Joe's eyes flicked back and forth between them. "Someone in the office missed a memo."
"What are your thoughts?" Ivan stood where he was, looking a question. He made a motion with his finger, a small circle that ended pointing at the bottles.
"Joe took them from the sideboard." Victoria tossed him her glass. "We checked the room when we came in." He had taken the time to change from dinner dress, so he couldn't have been with Sister Ruth for very long. "He's worth speaking with. The Graylings bought his vote. Deauville is his cover identity."
"You're not Viennese," Joe said.
"Ivan Simanov." Ivan shrugged, his German accent disappearing. "And your name is Matheson, CIA."
"So. KGB." Joe looked at her, frowning. "Victoria Winslow, MI6. They did get that right?"
"Yes." She waited while Ivan moved the vanity chair near the bed and sat down.
"I get the feeling you two have worked together before." Joe watched Ivan fill the glass with vodka. "This raises questions."
"Miss Winslow and I previously worked on a situation that was resolved to the best interest of both our governments," Ivan said. "It seems this may again be possible."
"It doesn't seem at all possible. If you're not working on the same team, that means your people want the same thing." Joe shook his head. "You'll forgive me if I say that sounds impossible, improbable, and complete bullshit."
"And yet true." Victoria sighed. "What we do next depends on you, Joe. I do know what I'm asking, but will you tell us what your government expects you to accomplish at Durant Castle?"
Joe reached slowly for the whiskey bottle and poured a small amount into his glass. "The American government paid for Dr. Kokintz' research. The q-bomb that Grand Fenwick "captured" was United States property. At the time there were people who didn't feel good about Dr. K's success. You both know what he claimed the bomb was capable of?"
"I do." Ivan looked at her.
"I was given only a single sheet on Dr. Kokintz," Victoria said slowly. "It noted the bomb was theoretically 10 times more powerful than an atom bomb."
"Something of an understatement. Joe, correct me if what I say is inaccurate." Ivan took a moment, then began to recite, as if reading.
"The quadium bomb is triggered using a conventional atom bomb. A bomb with the potential to destroy the north American continent can be assembled as easily as one that would destroy a single city. The after-effects of such an explosion would include windstorms, tidal waves, earthquakes and volcanic eruptions on a world-wide scale, regardless of where detonation occurred. The explosion will produce radioactivity, the long term effects of which include eventual sterility of the soil, and across the animal kingdom."
There was a long silence.
"That was accurate," Joe said.
"A single detonation, and the entire world dies. Why would the Chinese, why would anyone want such a thing?" Victoria turned on the bed so she could look directly at Joe. "I'll say it first. If Dr. Kokintz left any information about the bomb here, it's in my government's best interest to find and destroy it."
Joe nodded. "My people feel the same. There is much alarm at the possibility the Chinese might get the information."
"We live much closer to the Chinese, although that wouldn't matter if they were able to build this bomb," Ivan said. "Destruction of any remaining information is my primary mission."
"What's secondary?" Joe asked.
"To make sure this property passes to Grand Fenwick, of course." Ivan grinned. "I have been offered, by way of donation to Dr. Liebman's Institute, a large amount of money to find in favor of Durant's surviving spirit. The offer was put to me -- quite delicately."
Victoria bit her tongue.
"That's all she offered?" Joe had no reason to be reticent. "I thought her cleavage was going to jump into your hands a couple of times tonight. Did you accept?"
"I told her that, presented with sufficient proof, I could with clear conscience add my voice to hers in the vote."
"Why don't we just shoot someone? Your authorities would have to investigate. Surely that would put the Durant legal proceedings on hold and make a thorough, organized search of the premises possible." Victoria looked from Joe to Ivan. "I think a shooting could fall within my mission parameters."
"Messy," Joe said, "although as Plan B it isn't bad." He swung his feet over the edge of the bed. "I thought I'd take a look around the ground floor tonight."
"And I will continue finding my way around the passages. Have you found the panel in your room yet, Joe?"
"Yeah. It's blocked." Joe reached for his boots. "You're sure you don't want me to stay, Victoria? I was serious about the sex."
"I was serious about the bullet." Victoria unlocked the door.
"He gets to stay?" Joe's eyes were too shrewd and knowing as he looked at Ivan.
"He'll leave the way he came in. Goodnight Joe." Victoria locked the door and withdrew the key.
"Turn off light. Take off your clothes and come to bed." Ivan already had half his clothing off. "I need to replace the image of another man on your bed with something more pleasant."
She turned out the light and went to stand behind him as he stepped out of his trousers. When he straightened she lay a hand on each shoulder cap. His back had white traceries in places, very old scars. She had washed his back in the shower in New York, and noticed the scars. Victoria put her mouth against the nape of his neck, rubbing her face in the thick hair that curled there when he tipped his face upward.
"When I think of all the things I want to say to you, when I think of all the conversations we will never have, I do want to shoot someone." She spoke against his skin, moving her lips to his earlobe. Her body molded against his back, contours and curves matching up, fitting together. Even through her knit shirt the heat coming off his skin felt hot and immediate. One hand slipped beneath his arm, skimmed the contours of his chest. "I'm good at linear. Give me a target and an objective and I'm as good as our best, and probably better than your best."
Ivan's chest moved under her fingers, a small laugh. "Why underestimate yourself in other areas?"
"I feel like we're in a Conan Doyle mystery, but we're trying to prevent a murder, not solve one. I was trained to be an assassin, not a detective. I had an instructor who liked to say The choices you make in a moment of fear could determine the fate of the entire free world, so never let fear make your choices. Hyperbole for young trainees I always thought, but it turns out to be true."
Ivan turned in her arms. "What do you fear?"
"I look at you across a room, and only want to stand beside you." She touched his bottom lip, the small indentation on his chin. "I know what your body looks like beneath your clothes, know how strong you are. I watch your eyes for what you don't say with your voice, and know how intelligent and quick your mind is. I watch the story you act in front of others, and admire the skill you have for playing the chameleon."
He drew in a quick breath. "Victoria."
"No. That's not what I fear. I'm trying to tell you why I love you. It's not enough for me to say the words. People who have sex say the words all the time. It's a coded message that they find pleasure in a physical relationship, that they like the person they've had sex with, even that they would feel bad if their partner could no longer be with them. I mean all those things when I say I love you. I also mean that you are now so much a part of me that, back in London, it felt like one of my arms or legs had gone missing. I've never felt this way before."
"I know. It is distracting." His expression was bleak.
"They watched me very closely when I returned from New York, because of our collaboration. It was routine, a precaution only. I waited a few weeks, then had a short relationship with someone they would consider a natural, appropriate choice for an agent's bed partner." Victoria refused to let herself look away from his eyes. "I knew they would question him later."
Ivan's arms came around her in a tight hug. "I am sorry for the reason you had to take such an action."
Victoria rested her cheek against his chest. "I didn't want you to read about it in some file your people keep about me."
He slipped his hands under the knit top and pulled it over her head. "Please, take off your clothes and come to bed."
She undressed, then lay against his side, her head under his chin.
"I watch you across the room and I hear music. I want to take you in my arms, place one hand low on your back, close to the curve of your beautiful ass, and dance with you." His fingers stroked along the lower sweep of her back. "I watch your stubborn face -- you have the most intent, decided, single-minded look at times, milaya moya, and want to kiss your eyes, your mouth. I know what your body looks like, feels like. I know how strong you are, how brave." He stopped speaking abruptly.
"Ivan."
"Shh. When I look at you, I wish to be inside you. I wish to hear the sounds you make when we touch, to have your taste on my tongue. I have woken, hard, wanting you, thinking I would never have you again. Thinking what a poor thing life is without you." He pushed her gently onto her back. "I love you. I have never wanted a woman as I want you." He kissed the skin above her breasts. "I have never wanted anything as much as I want you."
Victoria sighed. She sat up and pushed him down beside her. "I like to look at your body as much as you like to look at mine." With fingers, lips and tongue she followed his scar, tested the response of his nipples. His stomach was hard with muscle and tension as her fingers outlined the trail of hair to his lower belly. When she took his cock into her mouth he made a sound that brought an answering shiver through her thighs.
She wasn't practiced at this form of love making. Other lovers had either been focused on quick, uncomplicated shagging, or had been men whose attempts to get her head between their legs met with tactics to distract them from that goal. Based on Ivan's response to her efforts, Victoria thought it might be worth the time and trouble to expand her repertoire. She concentrated on what action of mouth and tongue produced what sound and response from him.
Ivan's hand found her hair and tugged. "Enough. Enough for now." His voice had a strained, ragged quality.
Victoria kissed her way back up to the hollow of his throat. "It will never be enough." She rose on her knees, then sank with slick surety onto his cock. Their bodies came together and moved apart, a ballet of purposeful movement. His fingers found her breasts, and she arched in response to the sensation that burned from nipples to belly. Her single reality was the expression of hungry intensity on his face and the tightness of building orgasm.
She paused on the downstroke, leaned forward to take his mouth and rubbed against him. Ivan gasped away from the kiss, his fingers grabbing her hips. Victoria came on the wave of heat between her legs, laughing.