"My program?" I stared back at him, feeling a jolt. With my thoughts completely focused on Sarah, the last thing on my mind was my own baby.
"Now that you're here"-he smiled-"there's no reason we shouldn't proceed. This is, after all, a place of miracles."
Right. You let Sarah destroy her mind and now you want me to…
Don't even think about it.
"I have to tell you, I'm not overly impressed thus far with your 'program,' " I said. "First I passed out in your clinic, and then my doctor in New York told me those drugs Ramala gave me are highly illegal, and for good reason."
"What is 'legal' is more often than not the judgment of medical reactionaries." He dismissed the issue with a wave of his hand. "My work has moved far beyond anything the FDA has ever dreamed of." Then his look turned grave. "I hope you'll give me a chance to try to help you. I've been giving your case a lot of thought since our first examination, about what we should do. But first let me ask you… do you have a partner who could come here soon?"
Okay, maybe the thing to do was appear to play along for a while, move under his radar, and then get Sarah and split.
"It's a possibility."
He smiled again. "Excellent. If this person can come here to the clinic for a… deposit, then we could put you on a fast-track schedule."
"One thing at a time. First I'd like to know exactly what it is you have in mind." Would his "program" include stringing me out on the toad drug, the way he'd done with Sarah?
"Of course." He leaned forward in his chair. "I believe that, given your history, an in-vitro procedure would have the highest chance of success. You undoubtedly know how it works. We remove a number of eggs by aspiration and grade them for maturity and viability, after which we fertilize them to begin embryos growing. Then we pick the most promising for implantation."
"In vitro is invasive and dangerous and there's a lot that can go wrong." I genuinely hated the idea.
"To some extent." He examined his watch for a moment, then looked up. "But let me just say this. Since any reproductive therapy, particularly in vitro, is strongly dependent on the factor of timing, I've developed experimental compounds down here that can regulate egg maturities very precisely. It minimizes a lot of uncertainties, which is why we're so lucky you're…" He paused. "Look, the first thing we need to do is put you on a strict regimen of diet and spiritual discipline, using my system for regulating your Chi, your energy flows. Then, if you respond we can start thinking about the procedure. And should you eventually decide you want to go ahead and you can have your partner come here, we could possibly have everything done in just a few days."
"Well, you can forget about me taking any 'experimental compounds.' " How long could I stall him?
"Morgan, there's more to this." His look grew pained. "It's awkward to bring it up, but your presence here creates no small difficulty for me. I told you certain people in the military high command have concerns about the film you're making. And then the next thing they know, you show up here. It's just going to heighten their paranoia. But if I can convince them you're here for fertility treatment… In any case, it's important that nothing you, or I, do is at odds with that presumption. I hope it's true, but even if you chose to forgo it, I still need to put you on my normal regimen. You understand."
That's baloney. Somebody had me brought to Baalum. Whoever did it knows full well why I'm here. The problem is, I still don't know what they really want.
"Well, you can say I've come to take Sarah home," I told him. "That seems reason enough."
"The other story is simpler to explain." He took a last bite of gazpacho, then rested his pewter spoon on the table. "Take my word for it."
"And what if I don't choose to go along with this charade?"
"We would both be in jeopardy. They're entirely capable of… things I'd rather not have to elaborate on."
I sat there, feeling a chill envelop the room. How was I going to get out of this place?
"By the way, a while ago Sarah mentioned something about a 'ceremony.' What's that-?"
"It's a special time here." His gaze shifted to the ceiling. "In fact, it's supposed to take place in three days, but the Army has informed me it has to be two days from now. That's the day they rotate the troops here, so there'll be double strength."
"But why do they need-"
"Things can get a bit frenzied." He smiled, though he seemed to be embarrassed. "However, the people will love the fact you're here to share it with them."
Did he say "frenzied"? My mind immediately flashed on the Aztec rituals of ripping out beating hearts. But the Maya didn't go to that extreme, at least so far as I knew. Once again, though, I had the feeling I was only hearing what he wanted me to know, not the whole truth. It felt like a chess game where I didn't know the location of all the pieces or how they could move.
"Tell you what." He was getting up, turning toward the hall. "Why don't you let me show you around the clinic? In fact, I'm scheduled to perform an in vitro this morning for a childless couple here. You're free to see it. Perhaps that could help you make your own decision."
"Well… do you have a phone? I need to make some calls." Would he let me call out? That would be a first test of what his intentions were. It was all getting so insidious. I had Sarah to worry about, and the Army, and now some kind of "ceremony" that he'd managed to stay cannily vague about. I only knew I wanted the whole world to know where I was.
"Of course," he said. "You're welcome to use my office." He was pointing down the hall. "It's right this way."
Yes! Maybe I'm not completely his prisoner yet. I still have privileges. But I'd damned well better use them while I can.
I walked out and felt a breeze, and then I studied the far end of the hallway, at the opposite end from the entrance, and noticed huge slatted windows. As we walked in their direction, I realized there was a stairway on one side, at the end of the hall, leading up to the second story of the building.
"What's up there?"
"Hygenic nursery rooms." He glanced at the stairs. "Unlike U.S. practice, new mothers here aren't sent home after a day or two. Women and their newborns are encouraged to stay here at the clinic for at least a week. It's actually very much a part of their tradition, a period of bonding. You're welcome to visit with them later if you like."
I intended to. In fact, I found myself looking around and trying to memorize everything about the place. A two-story building, a marble stair, a nursery upstairs, downstairs rooms along either side of the hallway (what was in them?), and an office I was about to see. Could the clinic be locked down? What were the escape routes? How closely was the Army watching? The time would come, I was sure, when I'd need every scrap of intelligence I could collect.
When we reached the end of the hall, the fresh cool wind still blowing against my face, he stopped in front of a large, ornate wooden door with a brass knob in the very center. There was no sign of a lock, just a sense of great gravity about its purpose.
"The phone's in here." He pushed the door and it slowly swung inward on hinges that must have required ball bearings.
It was indeed an office, dimly lighted by the moving screen-savers of two computers, each on a separate desk. He flicked on the overhead lights and I noticed that one computer was hooked to a fax machine, the other to a separate printer. An impressive assembly of data-management technology for out here in the rain forest.
Then I focused on the central desk, on which sat an open, briefcase-looking box containing a mini-console labeled Magellan World Phone. A small satellite dish was bolted down next to it.
"It uplinks to the Inmarsat Series 3 geostationary satellites." He indicated the dish. "But it works like a regular phone. The international codes all apply." Then he turned to leave. "I should be ready for the procedure in a few minutes."
I picked up the handset and flicked it on. Three green diodes flashed, then two yellow ones, after which a white light came on and I heard a continuous hum, a dial tone.
Hooray. But was his satellite phone tapped? Why would he let me just call out? Was this a feint in our game of cat-and-mouse, just to lull me into believing everything here was safe and benign? Remembering Sarah's drug experience, I already knew that couldn't be true. For now, though, I had to get an SOS out while I had the chance.
I'd long since memorized the number of Steve's hotel in Belize City, and if I could reach him, he could go the embassy in Guatemala City and… I wasn't sure what. I still hoped to get out of here on my own, but if that failed… maybe some of those sturdy Marines…
When I dialed the Belize number, however, the phone just rang and rang.
Come on. Somebody please pick up.
Then they did. Thank goodness. But when I asked for Steve-
"So sorry, mon," came the proud Caribbean voice, "but Mr. Abrams check out Monday. Early in the morning."
"Right, I know that. But he came back last night, didn't he?"
"No, mon. He say he be coming back, to hold his room, but-"
"He didn't come back?" I felt my palms go icy. Who was going to know where Sarah and I were? "What do you mean?"
"He not coming back here, mon." The man paused and mumbled something to another clerk, then came back on. "Nobody seen him since. You want leave a message, that's okay. But I don't know when-"
"No." I didn't know what to say. The implication was only gradually sinking in. "No message. Thanks anyway. I'll try back later."
"Any time, mon. No problem."
I hung up, trying to stay calm. Steve, where are you?
Okay, I told myself, you don't actually know something's wrong. It could be anything. Still, it was very worrying. Steve, my one and only…
I was staring at the phone, wondering what my next move should be. Whatever else, I've got to try to reach Lou, tell him I've found Sarah. But then what? He certainly wasn't going to be any help in getting us out. If he blundered his way down here, there was a real chance he'd misread the delicacy of the situation and end up getting us all "disappeared" by the Army. But still, I had to tell him about her.
I picked up the handset again, keyed in the U.S. country code, and tried the number for his place in Soho. He'd said he was going to be released from St. Vincent's today, so maybe he was home by now.
The familiar ring jangled half a dozen times and then…
"Crenshaw residence." It was the Irish tones of Mrs. Reilly, Sarah's day nurse. Hallelujah. I guessed she was there now taking care of Lou.
"Uh, this is Morgan James. Mr. Crenshaw's niece. Remember? I came by. Is he home yet? I need to talk to him."
"He's resting, dear. I was just about to go out and get some things, milk and soup and the like."
"So… dare I ask? How is he?"
"He's weak, but I think he's going to be fine. If people will just let him be."
"Look, I hate to bother him, but it's really an emergency. I'm calling from Guatemala."
"Oh. I truly don't know if he's awake, dear. He was napping a while ago."
"Could you… could you go and see? Please. And take the phone?"
"Just a minute." She sounded reluctant, but I could hear her movements as she shuffled across the loft. I listened, wondering how long Alex Goddard was going to be away, and then a moment later…
"Yeah." There was a rustle as Lou got a grip on his cordless. "Morgan, is that you? Where the hell are you now?"
It took me a second to even find my voice, I was so thrilled to hear him. He sounded just like always.
"Hey, how's it going, champ?" I said. Come on, Lou. Get well. Fight.
"I started having these migraines, but they gave me some medicine-"
"Listen." I cut him off, and immediately felt guilty I'd been so impatient. "I'm up in northern Guatemala and I've found Sarah."
"Oh, my God." That was followed by a long silence, probably an emotional meltdown. "Is she all right?"
What was I going to say? That she'd been brainwashed or worse by Alex Goddard? That we were both in his clutches, cut off from the world, and in deep, deep trouble?
"She's able to stand," I said.
I don't remember what white lies I eventually managed to tell him. I think it was something like, "She's being treated for a post-coma syndrome by a medical specialist. I've found out that when she was in Guatemala before, she was given some very bad drugs, and someone here who knows about them is trying to reverse some of the damage."
"Alex Goddard, right?" There was no BS-ing Lou for very long. "That bastard."
"Lou, I'm going to get her out of here and back home as soon as possible. Everything's going to be all right. Don't worry. It's really too complicated to try and explain over the phone."
"Yeah, well, I'm coming. Soon as I'm up. I'm gonna take that son of a bitch by the-"
"Don't. Don't you go anywhere. I'm handling it, okay?" I heard him grunt, whether from pain or frustration I couldn't be sure. "Lou, listen, I'm going to try and phone you every day. If I miss a day, then you should call the embassy down here. Tell them you're FBI. That might get their attention. The place where I am, where Sarah is, is named Baalum. It's a… kind of village. In the northern Peten Department. I don't know if the U.S. has any clout up here, but that's where they should come looking."
I got him to write it down, and then eased him off the line as gently as I could and hung up. I would have loved for him to be here, but I wanted to try to get Sarah out by stealth if I could. And stealth was scarcely Lou's style.
My calls were one for two, and there still wasn't anybody to help me. The time had come to try David. I was having the glimmerings of a new strategy.
It was lunchtime in New York, but on Wednesdays he usually just had a sandwich at his desk. Maybe I could catch him.
"Hello," declared the British female voice he'd put on his machine, hoping it would sound like he had a classy secretary. "You've reached the office of David Roth, president of Applecore Productions. We're sorry Mr. Roth is not available at this time to-"
"David," I barked into the phone. "If you're there, pick up. This is Morgan. I've got to talk to you."
While the announcement kept running, noises erupted outside in the hall, voices and a clicking sound, as though something was being rolled along the tile floor. Shit. Was Alex Goddard about to walk in? My mouth went dry. Come on, David, I know you're there, hiding-Variety with a tuna salad on rye, extra pickle. Dr. Brown's Cel-Ray soda.
"David damnit, pick up." I said it quieter this time, but I could feel my heart pounding. "This is an emergency."
"Morgy, don't!" He yelled as I heard the receiver being lifted. "Jesus, I just walked in from the deli. Listen, thank God it's you. Drop whatever the hell you're not doing and get your butt in here. Jerry Reiner called, you know, the Orion distribution deal-and he wants a rough cut of Baby Love yesterday so he can pitch it to the suits on the fifth floor. We could be staring at financial success here. I hope you can handle the vulgarity of that."
"David, you're not going to believe where I am," I began, working out my game plan as I went along, trying to sound cool and control my racing pulse. "I'm in northern Guatemala, at a place that would make a terrific feature. It's like a Maya theme park, deep in the rain forest. But it's real. I want you to contact the embassy and get them to grease the way for my crew to come here. This is too good to pass up." I thought about the costs and then added, "At least one camera and sound."
One sure way to get Sarah out was to blow the place open to the world.
"What's… where are you again?"
I gave him a glowing trailer of the Williamsburg-like qualities of Baalum-a beautiful, exciting recreation of times gone by that out-Disneyed Disney. The cable channels would be bidding for the footage.
"Hey, look, all things in time." He wasn't buying. "I'm talking an actual deal here. You know, money? Fuck the jungle wonderland. You've got exactly one more day down there on the Tarzan set, or wherever the hell it is, and then I'm gonna start finishing final cut on this damned picture myself. Don't make me have to do that, Morgy. This is not a drill. Nicky Russo came by again yesterday. He's fully prepared to call our note and impound your original negative. It's here, under lock and key, but we've got to get this project in the can and sold."
"You touch a frame of my movie and I won't be responsible for my actions." God, he was missing my SOS. "David do one thing for me, please. I can't tell you how important it is. I haven't explained everything. This situation is… It's very threatening. I need you to at least call the embassy down here and see if they'll send somebody. The Army's all over the place and-"
A loud noise intervened followed by complete, absolute silence. The diodes on the panel all began flashing yellow.
"Shit!" Had Alex Goddard been listening in and decided to cut me off before I could get word to the embassy?
I slammed the box and went for the usual maneuver: I cut the connection and tried again, but nothing. Again, and still nothing.
My hands were trembling. I'd just lost contact with the outside world. I was completely isolated in the middle of nowhere.
How convenient. Alex Goddard let me tell a couple of people I was physically okay, and then he blocked the line.
I exhaled settled into the padded chair next to the computers, and tried to think. David, David why wouldn't you listen? He was so excited he'd completely ignored my distress signal. Nobody was going to come and help me get out of here.
I gazed around the room, wondering what to do next. Was there another phone, a radio, a box of flares, for godsake?
That was when I spotted the outlines of another door- why hadn't I noticed it sooner?-this one steel, there on the left. Alex Goddard might walk in any second now, but I had to try to learn everything I could as fast as I could. What was going on besides what was going on?
Alert for any new sounds from outside, I quickly went over and tried the knob.
It was locked tight.
Figured. Now I really wanted to know what was in there. When I glanced around the office, I noticed a ring of keys on the desk. Could he have forgotten them?
More important, would I blow everything if he caught me snooping? In spite of his attempt at a cool veneer, he might go ballistic.
I made a snap decision. Take the chance and give them a try.
My hands were so moist I had trouble holding the slippery keys, but finally I managed to shove in the first one. It went in, but nothing would turn.
Come on. I managed to wiggle the next one in, my hand trembling now, but again the knob wouldn't budge. Footsteps outside marched up to the door and I stopped breathing, but then they moved on.
Hurry. I was rapidly losing hope when the fifth one slipped in and the knob turned. Yes!
Taking a deep breath and working on a story in case Alex Goddard walked in, I clicked the lock and eased the door inward just enough to look inside.
Hello, what's this? The space was a fully equipped medical research lab. The lights were off, but like the office, it was illuminated by the glow of several CRT screens stationed above a long lab bench. There also was a large machine, probably a gas chromatograph, with its own screen, flanked by rows of test tubes. Finally, there was a large electronic microscope complete with video screen.
One non-medical thing stood out, though: There in the middle of the workbench was a two-foot-high bronze Dancing Shiva presiding over whatever was going on. It was breath-takingly beautiful.
So… what was The Lord of the Dance giving his blessing to? Time to try and find out.
Now clanking noises were filtering in from out in the hall, along with the pounding of heavy boots, and my pulse jumped again. Was the Army coming to drag me away?
Just go in. Do it.
The CRT screens were attached to black metal containers, their doors closed, that all were connected to a power supply, doubtless to maintain some temperature. It looked like Goddard was incubating something in a carefully controlled environment. The whole arrangement was very carefully organized and laid out.
Finally I noticed a row of large steel jugs, six in all, near the back and covered with a sheet of black plastic, thin like a wrap. What could they be? Some kind of special gas for use in the lab?
Voices in Spanish drifted in from the hallway. A woman and a man were arguing about something.
Okay, get out of here. Come back and check this out when nobody's around.
I stepped back into the office, clicked off the thumb latch on the door so it wouldn't lock, and closed it. I realized I was pouring sweat.
What next? Well, see if the phone's working again and try calling the Camino Real and see if Steve's come back there for some reason, maybe a change in plans. It would be a long shot, but still…
My hand was shaking as I opened up the phone case. Thank God, the diodes were all quiet. Maybe…
The steel door I'd closed only moments before swung open and Alex Goddard walked through. Did he realize I'd left it unlocked? How did he get in there? Was there another door?
He'd changed clothes and was wearing a pale blue surgical gown. I shut the phone case, as though just finishing with it. Could he tell I'd turned myself into a nervous wreck? I tried to smile and look normal, but my shirt was soaking.
"Ah, I see you're finished," he said, not seeming to notice. "Good. As I said, I've got an in-vitro procedure scheduled now for one of the couples here in the village. You're welcome to observe. It might help you decide what you want to do in your own case." He was moving across the room. "You can watch on the closed circuit."
He reached up and snapped on a monitor bolted to the wall in the corner.
"Oh, just one small word of forewarning." He was turning back. "Down here I've made certain… cosmetic changes in the procedure to keep patients' anxiety levels as low as possible. It wouldn't be appropriate in your case, but… well, you'll see."
Before I had time to wonder what he meant, he disappeared back through the steel door with a reassuring smile.