"What fascists?" Remo said, dumbfounded.
"The government. This is obviously a government plot. They learned of your existence-you, the next stage in human evolution-and they imprisoned you unjustly. Oh, you poor Homo crassi carpi."
"Government plot?"
"Yes, this fascist regime is committed to destroying anything it doesn't understand."
"Lady, I've been doing time for killing a pusher. I didn't do it, but that's why I was doing time."
"You were framed. It all fits."
"Read my lips. I said twenty years. I've been on death row for twenty years, not running around the country with a crazy old Mongol."
"Mongoloid. And who is he? I couldn't figure him out either."
"Damned if I know. But he's dead."
"Dead?"
"At least I think so. I saw him die in a dream. It seemed as real as those other dreams, the ones where I was doing stuff like you have in these files. But I don't remember being in any of these places or doing these things. Hell, before I was sent away, I'd barely ever been out of New Jersey. Unless you count a tour in Vietnam."
Naomi Vanderkloot touched Remo's arm tenderly. "Don't try to sort it all out at once," she said. "You've been through a tremendous ordeal."
Remo slapped the files in her solicitous hands. "There's nothing in these to help me. Thanks for your time."
Naomi shot to her feet. Her eyes were pleading. "Wait! I can help you."
"Yeah, how? I'm in pretty deep."
"By offering you a place to stay for a start. Here. Then we'll help you find yourself. That's what this is all about, isn't it? Finding yourself."
"I know who I am. Remo Williams."
"And Remo Durock. And Remo DeFalco. And Remo Weeks. Don't you see? These reports can't all be coincidence. You may think you've been in jail, but someone with your face and first name has been doing all these bizarre destructive things."
"Maybe I have a twin brother," Remo suggested.
"Maybe. If so, then you and he are the same species. I want to study you. Please allow me." Naomi Vanderkloot watched the changing expressions flicker across Remo Williams' troubled face. The doubt, the confusion, oh, he was everything she'd ever wanted in a man. Or a study specimen. He was perfect.
Seeing him waver, she reached up and removed her glasses. In movies, this was always the moment when the handsome hero fell for the brainy woman who, under the glasses and schoolmarm bun, was secretly gorgeous. And passionate. She wet her lips to communicate the passionate part. And waited for his reaction.
"Can you cook?" Remo asked at last.
Naomi's face fell. She struggled to get it aloft again.
"Yes," she said bravely.
"Good. I'm starving. Got any rice?"
"As much as you want. Plain white or wild?"
"Either of 'em."
"Let's continue this in the kitchen," Naomi suggested, smiling.
In the kitchen, Naomi asked, "Care for a Dove Bar while you wait?"
"I'll shower after we eat," Remo said seriously, watching in horrified fascination as Naomi Vanderkloot took a package from the freezer marked "Dove Bar" and began nibbling.
Later, over two heaping bowls of rice, she listened to Remo Williams' life story. It was not exactly a biography. More of a hard-luck story.
"And you say you simply woke up in Florida State Prison?" she asked when he was through. "And they said you'd killed a guard?"
"I did kill a guard," Remo said. "It took a while for it to come back to me, but I remember it distinctly. He pushed me to the breaking point. I guess I was treated like a criminal for so long, I became one."
Naomi placed a reassuring hand on Remo's massive wrist.
"Prison turns men into killers, even evolved men like you," she said simply. She squeezed and felt hard wrist bones.
"Why do you keep saying that? Men like me?"
"Because you're different. I've analyzed these reports. You're not like other men. You're a step ahead. I theorize that you're the leap ahead in human evolution. A mutant."
"Bulldookey. I was a beat cop who got jammed up in the justice system. End of story." He yanked free from her hands. He didn't like the creepy way she was feeling up his wrist.
"That doesn't explain how you escaped death row. How you manipulated electronic locks with your fingers. "
Remo had no response to that. He chewed his food slowly, carefully, before swallowing. Naomi wrote that down on the pad beside her plate and began to chew her food slowly for just as long as Remo. She waited until he swallowed before she did. By then, her rice had the consistency of liquid.
She wrote that down too.
"The way I figure it," she said at last, "we simply backtrack all the things you remember until we find a link."
"The name Folcroft Sanitarium seems to mean something. And a guy named Harry Smith. I thought he was the judge who sentenced me, but he seems connected to Folcroft somehow. If it exists."
"I think your dreams are tapping on the door of your subconscious. They're trying to tell you something. Yes, Folcroft would be an excellent place to start."
"But how would we find it? It could be anywhere."
"Just a moment," Naomi said, going to her telephone stand. She pulled out the white pages and brought the book to the table.
"What we'll do is call information for every area code in the country and ask if they have a listing for Folcroft. If it's out there, eventually we'll hit it."
Remo's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Smart," he said.
"Thank you," Naomi said, pleased. "We'll start with New Jersey, because that's where you think you lived."