Jackal Read online

  Daryl gestured to Ron. The waiter opened the bottle and poured the wine into a splendid crystal decanter and swirled it.

  “You seem to appreciate your wines. Did the sparkling wine remind you of anything?”

  “The subtlety of a Dom Pérignon.”

  “Thanks for the compliment. In a way it’s very similar. We specialize in mixing grapes, just as the brilliant old Benedictine monk, Dom Pérignon, did back in the 1600s.”

  Ron poured the wine, then served the Chateau-briand. He straightened up and proffered a subtle nod. “Chef sends his regards and hopes you’ll enjoy your meal.”

  “Thanks Ron. I’m sure we will.” Daryl raised his glass, sniffed the wine, and tasted it. “Give me your honest opinion.” He winked at Karla.

  She sipped the wine and closed her eyes. “It’s delicious. A hint of Tempranillo?”

  “I’m impressed. It’s a blend of Carignan grapes from France, our own Napa Syrah grapes, with a nice combination of Tempranillo and Graciano grapes from Spain.”

  “And the name Chanteuse?”

  Daryl’s eyes darkened and his jaw tensed. “Father fell in love with my mother when he heard her sing. She had a beautiful voice and loved to sing. He named his first vineyard Chanteuse to honor her. I’ve considered changing the name, but we’re too well established and it wouldn’t be wise. From a business point of view.” He looked away from her and focused on his meal.

  Perplexed, Karla followed suit, wondering why he disliked the label. After a few moments, she looked up to find him staring at her. In spite of herself, she blushed.

  His morose mood had dissipated and he flashed her another one of his Andrew smiles.

  “Sarah, Sarah…” Sonia whispered softly as she gently nudged her friend. “We’re back, honey.”

  Sarah blinked. “What?”

  “We’re back at the hotel. Are you all right? You were out of it, staring out the car window, stiff as a board,” Iris said.

  Sarah nodded hesitantly. “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “You were real quiet all the way back, wouldn’t answer our questions or engage in conversation. We couldn’t decide whether you were taking the whole experience in or had simply fallen asleep. Anyway, we let you be, but since we got back we’ve been trying to…well get you out of your trance. But you didn’t react. You simply sat there,” Sonia said sheepishly.

  “Trance?” Sarah asked meekly.

  Iris grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the car. “C’mon, what you need is a stiff drink and some food.”

  “We all need both.” Sonia reached for Sarah’s free hand.

  “We promise not to interrogate you about what happened or who cast the spell on you.” Iris winked.

  “That promise might be a tall order, Iris.” Sonia giggled. “Your record on keeping promises is not stellar.” Sarah grinned.

  “I will this time,” Iris protested. “We figured that maybe the book spirit got into your head and you went visiting with him, or her—or them. To tell you the truth, watching you like that turned out to be enough paranormal stuff to last me a lifetime. I can’t imagine how you can cope with all this shit going on in your head.”

  “It’s surprising at times.” Sarah cocked her head. “And, frankly, very annoying when it zaps me out of reality.”

  “Well, you’re back with the living, and we won’t talk anymore about spirits. We’re done for the day—or days. First a warm bath, followed by a nice meal,” asserted Sonia as they marched arm in arm into their hotel.

  Sarah rushed into her room, went straight for the book and opened it. “Seriously, you give me a poem?” She stared at the book in frustration. “Where are the scenes in the Aldercrest offices?” She flipped through the book but all she found was page after page of poems.

  Exasperated, she tossed the book on the bed, removed her shoes, shed her blouse, and stomped into the bathroom. She ran hot water in the tub, and poured in some bubble bath for good measure. She cast off her remaining garments, snatched the book, and eased into the tub. “All right, let’s take a look at the poem.”

  NIGHT

  The moon was singing

  The other night

  And the stars

  Joined in the chorus

  Their music

  Spoke of happiness

  Of loneliness

  Of multitudes

  And dark

  Of watching sheep

  That flock together

  Of reflections in a mirror

  And the sound of

  Crickets in the breeze

  They loved the things

  That night provides

  The silence cool

  The quiet calm

  The nightingales

  The June bugs

  And the tide

  But

  When I asked

  If they

  Liked roses

  Humming birds

  And honey bees

  When I spoke

  To them

  Of children playing

  The changing colors

  Of the leaves

  And mornings by the sea

  They stared at me

  Bewildered

  And simply said to me

  Day

  May have the golden sun

  Flowers bees and kids

  But night’s a time of living peace

  The time when lovers

  Love

  9

  The Chameleon

  “A trance?” Conrad’s concern came across loud and clear.

  “That’s what they said. They were quite worried.”

  “I can’t blame them. What did you say?”

  “I described what I went through last year with Alexander. They loved that story. At least it kept them entertained. We never went back to my so-called trance, or spell as Iris labeled it.”

  “Spell?”

  “She’s concluded that the ghost in the book had cast a spell on me. It’s her way to grasp what’s going on.”

  Conrad laughed. “She’s not that far from the truth. How are you feeling?”

  “Anxious. I have absolutely no recollection of the drive back to the hotel. Somewhat similar to what Alexander put me through. At least I wasn’t driving.”

  “Alexander actually wrote the screenplay he played in your mind. Could the woman whose voice you sense be the author?”

  “No, not likely. I’m miffed at this psychotic book, though.”

  Conrad laughed. “Psychotic book. What a description.”

  “Well, it is.”

  “You must admit that the image of a book being psychotic is quite funny.”

  “Nonetheless, it’s psychotic.”

  “Who do you suppose is the author?”

  “I have no idea. Which makes it even more frustrating.”

  “And no sign of James?”

  “None. I left him a voicemail, but he hasn’t called back. Did you find out anything from Sheriff Williams?”

  “He didn’t find anyone by the name of Austen in Eureka. He’s searching nearby cities.”

  “Ask him to try San Francisco.”

  “Why there?”

  “The Big 4 restaurant, the galleries, and the bar Karla went to, are all in San Francisco.”

  “Okay, I’ll ask Williams to check San Francisco.”

  “I’m getting the impression that the book, or the story, is getting impatient.”

  “How come?”

  “The person behind the book is showing me what’s happening now, and I’m expected to do something about it.”

  “How did you arrive at that conclusion?”

  “Gerard, the art magazine editor asked Karla to write about the Chinese miniatures, remember? So I looked
it up. There’s currently a Chinese miniatures exhibit in San Francisco. I’m pretty sure that means that the McKenzie woman must’ve died fairly recently.”

  “It makes sense. By the way, I haven’t found a thing about an artist named Andrew Stuart.”

  “Me neither. I also asked around here, but nobody’s heard of him. They don’t recognize the name Aldercrest either, although I thought it might be the town that’s located south of Eureka, the one called Alderpoint, and the book might have changed the word point to crest. But there’s no lake there and it’s a very isolated, unwelcoming place. ”

  “All these names could be fake.”

  “Why use fake names?”

  “Maybe so you don’t get distracted looking them up and reading about them online. From what James told you, this entity needs to be in control.”

  “That certainly makes sense. I haven’t been able to find anything online about the art magazine she works for either.”

  “It appears as if you’re getting glimpses of real events, real places, and even real people, that are somehow hidden in some elaborate maze.”

  “James said that maybe whoever is communicating all this is ashamed or afraid for some reason. That somehow Karla is in danger. The look and demeanor of this new twin is creating some serious internal conflicts for her.”

  “What’s your take on Daryl?”

  “He appears to be all right—unyielding and decisive in his business, kind to his employees, and in complete control of his life. He’s definitely full of himself, though.”

  “Interesting.”

  “What?”

  “You speak with fondness about Andrew, although there are clear indications he might be the killer, but your tone is a bit dry and reserved when you describe Daryl.”

  “Mm…” Sarah paused. “It could be that I’ve only now met Daryl.”

  “You only glanced briefly at Andrew.”

  “True, but that glance gave me more of a clear sense about him. So far Daryl has offered a rollercoaster of emotions. He’s much more difficult to read. Curious, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it certainly is. Listen, it’s time for you to get some rest. We’ll chat tomorrow night. Maybe I’ll have some news for you by then and James will have called you back. Enjoy the time with your buddies tomorrow.”

  She switched off the lights, curled up in bed, and drifted off to sleep.

  Aberrance

  Inside a seedy hotel room, a woman in her mid-twenties lay totally nude on the cracked linoleum floor, a pink sheer scarf tied loosely around her neck. A circle of small white candles in dainty crystal cups surrounded her. Her unblinking eyes focused on nothing.

  Masculine hands gently caressed her inert body, the tips of the fingers stroking it with sensuous pleasure, the red birthmark visible on the back of the left hand.

  He slid the scarf from her neck, closed her eyes, straightened her hair, and curled up beside her to nuzzle against her neck.

  Sarah, heart pounding and sweat dotting her upper lip, shot upright in bed and glanced about the darkness apprehensively. She caught sight of the clock on the bedside table. “It’s four in the morning! What the hell?”

  She jumped out of bed and ran to the bathroom. Trembling, she gripped the rim of the sink. She plashed cold water on her face and the back of her neck, slumped onto the edge of the bathtub, and buried her face in a towel.

  “This is too much. Whoever you are and whatever it is that you have in mind, I cannot be witnessing these things. They’re macabre. You’re transferring your pain and anguish to me—It aches… deeply.” Tears flooded her eyes. “Please, stop.”

  She forced herself to regain her composure, took a long shower, and allowed the water to wash away the nightmare. She dried off and turned the television to the early morning news. She removed the towel from her head, and shook her hair loose.

  “We’ve received many calls, as well as Twitter, and Facebook messages,” the news anchorman announced, “requesting a replay of last night’s report, given that many viewers missed the late evening news coverage. So we’re pleased to rerun it throughout our morning coverage. Here is Armando Garcia.”

  A young reporter in a suit and tie, microphone in hand, appeared on the screen. “Good evening, we’re coming to you from the California Medical Facility in Vacaville,” he announced, “where Dr. Clarion, head of the State prison’s psychiatric unit of the California Medical Facility, held a press conference late last night to show the filmed interview of John Rand’s twenty third personality. As reported earlier, the name John Rand is the pseudonym given to him in order to protect his victims. John is also the name of one of the many personalities of this man, who escaped from the medical facility two weeks ago, and is yet to be apprehended. By releasing this last interview with John, Dr. Clarion and the Medical Board wish to offer the public a glimpse into this man and his illness. They also hope that someone might recognize him and lead authorities to his recapture.”

  A crude video image of two men sitting at a table in a small stark room flickered into focus. Dr. Clarion, a smallish man with tiny wire-rimmed glasses wearing a physician’s white coat a couple of sizes too big, appeared on the left of the screen. A disheveled middle-aged man in hospital green pants and t-shirt sat on the right. The man twirled his hair around the index and middle fingers of one hand while shaking his head rhythmically. He had a blank stare, but somehow, also appeared fearful.

  “John,” Dr. Clarion got his attention. “I’d like to speak with Cameron, if I may. Would that be all right?”

  John answered almost inaudibly. “Yeah, yeah. That would be okay.”

  For a moment, nothing happened. Then, John’s head dropped. It moved in a circular motion that continued until his head was erect once again. He took a deep breath, blinked a couple of times, and opened his eyes into a fierce stare. His facial expression took on a threatening look for a second, then his eyes rolled, and he took another deep breath. His eyes popped open, this time with an expression of infantile surprise.

  “Hi, Doc.” His voice had a high-pitched childish quality. “Will you let me do some drawings today? I haven’t done any for a long time.”

  “Hello, Peter, I would like to speak with Cameron, not with you at the moment. Maybe later you can do some drawing.” Dr. Clarion called out, “Cameron, stop hiding. Only cowards hide behind children.”

  The man let out a loud grunt. He rose to his feet, lifted his chair above his head, and brought it down solidly onto the table. The chair clanged against the metal table. He then tossed the chair aside, and stood with his hands on his hips, head cocked in defiance.

  Unperturbed, Dr. Clarion remained seated.

  The man took a menacing step toward Dr. Clarion.

  “Who da hell d’ya think yer callin’ a coward? If you don’t let me outta dis joint, I’m gonna rip yer damn little head off!” He pushed the table away and grabbed Dr. Clarion by the neck.

  “If you kill me you can never get out,” the doctor cried out.

  “Fine.” He eased his grip. “Let’s walk out together, ya little shit.” He yanked Dr. Clarion up from the chair and propelled him against the door.

  Dr. Clarion yelled, “Cameron! Help! I need you, Cameron!”

  The man froze in his tracks. For a second, John’s body turned limp and his eyes rolled as if he were about to faint. As abruptly as before, he straightened up, opened his eyes, and looked about the room, appraising the situation. He spotted the chair on the floor. “My word.” He shook his head. “Hello, Dr. Clarion.” His voice had become several tones deeper and was cloaked in an impeccable British accent. “I notice you have met our boy, Paul. You are none the worse for wear, I trust?”

  He helped Dr. Clarion up, then dragged the table to the middle of the room, picked up the chairs, placed them on either side of the table, and sat down calmly, resting his hands on his lap. He ind
icated for Dr. Clarion to sit.

  The doctor sat across from him rubbing his neck. “Thank you, Cameron. Paul makes twenty three, doesn’t it?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Are you aware of any more?”

  “No. As I have mentioned before, although I am aware of the lot, some may wish to hide from me. Not all appreciate my,” he sneered, “ability to control. Paul, as you’ve witnessed, is quite volatile.”

  “Why hadn’t you introduced me to Paul before?”

  “My dear chap, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”

  “Not to me.”

  “We are ashamed. He is, after all, the reason we got pinched. Isn’t he?”

  “When did he first emerge?”

  “It’s quite evident. Isn’t it?”

  “I’d like for you to enlighten me.”

  Cameron leaned back in the chair with a smirk on his face. “When he killed Mommy and Daddy, of course.”

  Dr. Clarion’s eyes widened. “You,” he hesitated, “you never told me…” he shook his head. “He couldn’t have. You were, what—six years old? The carnage was—all along it’s been assumed that some unknown perpetrator committed the crime.”

  “Oh, he did it, alright. And the boys gave him a standing ovation. Even our girls enjoyed it. Afterwards, quite cleverly, Louie emerged and took charge. He organized the lot as best he could and hid the entire horde behind John, who of course, to this day, has no recollection of what happened.”

  “But you never told me he had killed your—”

  “I only found out a few months ago, and only because I caught them plotting.”

  “Plotting?”

  “Yes. Paul said he had had enough of this place and planned to get rid of John. He solicited Louie’s assistance. I overheard them and, as you can well imagine,” he jutted his chin with pride, “I put a stop to it. Paul came after me, but I have managed to garner a great deal of support amongst the team, and I sincerely hope that we put an end to that absurd plan. It’s safer for us here.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”