An hour later, the team was as ready as they ever would be. They were on the second floor of Newberry’s, where Leonard had set up all their equipment. No fewer than four video cameras would record the session, and audio inputs were in place to take in even the smallest nuances of memory from Harvey Leach. The man himself sat against the wall wide-eyed and looked terrified. Kennedy watched Damian hand the man a small shot glass of whiskey on Gabriel’s orders, to still Harvey’s nerves. The rest of the team was spread out in a wide circle to make sure nothing was missed. The store was locked up and secured, and the feds were warned that for the time being, Newberry’s was under quarantine. They would guard outside and warn them of any activity through their radios, which Leonard would also be monitoring. Bob, Linda, Casper, and Peckerwood would sit this one out downstairs near the lunch counter. Casper was the only one disappointed he wouldn’t see his friend go through the ordeal.
Gabriel mixed the two cocktails of Demerol and other special ingredients and placed the three syringes on the table in front of him. Jennifer was assisting with the emergency equipment. She had the defibrillator and the syringes of Adrenalin and atropine, a drug used to kick-start a heart. The danger was spelled out for Harvey, and though he said he wasn’t afraid, they all noticed how his faded blue eyes jumped to the two women in the room, Julie and Jenny, when he said it. The better part of his machismo had not been lost to the old-timer. In any case, Gabriel was aware that the dreamwalk, no matter how short in duration, was extremely dangerous for a man of Leach’s age.
Gabriel rubbed his eyes, and Jennifer leaned over and asked if he was all right.
“John is right; this needs to be done to get the feel of the town that day, but he’s taxing his physical makeup by doing the dreamwalk too many times with such a short recovery window.”
Jenny smiled. “He knows I would run off with Bobby Lee if he kicked the bucket on us, so he promised he wouldn’t. Don’t worry, at least on this one. I don’t think Harvey Leach is hiding anything in that brain of his that could be considered dangerous.” She then lost her smile. “Unless he’s behind this whole thing, an evil plan to wrest Newberry’s from his father’s control.”
“Smart-ass,” Gabe said, kissing the top of Jenny’s head and then turning to face a brave-looking but totally frightened Harvey Leach, who sat on the edge of his chair, waiting.
John was sitting on the bed across from him with a casual look on his brown features. He winked at Leach, who flinched in return. Gabe approached with his best disarming smile. He placed his hands on his knees and leaned over to have direct eye contact with the old man.
“Harvey, we’re going to give you something that will send you into a light sleep. It will open your mind up, and that in turn will relax your entire body. All you have to do is sleep, and we’ll guide you to the places that we know you will be capable of going. We can’t ask you about anything you didn’t actually witness. You may be able to relay secondhand information to us, but John won’t be able to envision it, because your eyes didn’t witness it yourself, so the brain subconsciously denies John the ability to see. Clear so far?”
“Not a goddamn word of it.”
Gabriel and the others smiled. “Good,” he said, patting Harvey on the knee as he straightened. He turned back and looked at Leonard, who nodded that he was ready.
The last thing was for Jenny to kiss John, and then her small hand held his face for the briefest of moment.
“Be careful in there.” She looked at Harvey and smiled and then leaned in to whisper to Lonetree, “California authorities never caught the Zodiac killer.” Her eyes flicked over toward Leach, who tilted his head after hearing the strange comment.
“Did I ever relay the fact to you that you can be a b—”
“Good luck,” she said, and then she allowed Gabriel in to administer his injections.
“I always hated those days at school when they gave those gov’ment-funded inoculations. They hurt like hell,” he said as Gabriel frowned at him, holding the empty needle. “Oh, you done it already,” he said with a macho smile. “That wasn’t so bad.” Then he saw Julie roll over the defibrillator. “What’s that?” he asked with his eyes a tad wider than a moment before.
“Oh, it’s nothing; it’s for John. Sometimes he needs a pick-me-up after he does this,” she lied, and she also patted Harvey on the leg. “Good luck, champ.”
“You know, with all these good-luck wishes, it feels like the day I shipped off to Vietnam. You people do not inspire confidence.”
Harvey looked from person to person as his eyelids grew heavy. Lonetree, sitting directly to his front, was already drifting, but his own excitement delayed the reaction to his Demerol enough so that the world became an echoing mockery of its real self. Then he was gone. His eyes closed and his body relaxed. Gabriel and Jennifer both checked his vital signs and were satisfied that Harvey was sound asleep. Gabriel sat down.
“John, can you hear me?” Gabe asked with a soft and gentle voice in the chair next to Lonetree. He watched as John’s eyes moved rapidly under the lids.
“EKG jump,” Leonard said from his darkened corner with only the light from his many monitors illuminating his face. “He heard you.”
“Harvey Leach, can you hear me?”
Nothing. Gabriel looked back in the darkness, and Leonard shook his head.
Gabriel checked the leads on Harvey’s chest, and they were attached correctly. He then looked at George, who was holding Harvey’s hand and then released it after getting the feel for the man’s brain activity. He also shook his head. Gabriel sat back and thought a moment. Harvey may have a hard time relaying his memories because he was a nonbeliever in John’s abilities. He had to make Harvey think while he dreamed. What could he say to get the man’s attention?
Julie cleared her throat from her chair in the circle. She pointed at the far wall as lightning flashed through the windows. Gabe didn’t see what she was suggesting until she mouthed the word. Then he saw the painted logo on the wall that said Newberry’s, the Family Department Store! Gabriel smiled understanding.
“Harvey! You clocked in late again!” Gabe said loudly, making Harvey jump in his sleep. George smiled and nodded. Leonard in the far corner gave a thumbs-up as he watched the brain activity on his monitor increase.
The idea was to get Harvey’s attention, and Gabe’s voice was falling short of the mark. So, at Julie’s suggestion, he had used the two things that terrified Harvey more than anything, and these were things he had mentioned in passing throughout the day as they spoke with him—the department store as an attention getter and his father’s commanding voice as the root of his base fear.
“Harvey, are you there?” Kennedy asked in a more forceful voice. “I need more soft-drink syrup brought up from the basement! Harvey, are you hearing me?”
“Yes, goddamn it, I hear you!” George said, repeating what he heard from the feelings of Harvey Leach.
John was actually viewing the boy wherever he was in his memory.
“Harvey, your father says never mind about the syrup; the cans they already have behind the counter will be enough.” Gabe waited.
“Of course they are; you’re so damn cheap with the syrup, we never run out! Always complaining about the yield!”
George finished explaining what Harvey was saying in his mind.
“John, where are you?” Gabriel asked.
“I’m in the basement of Newberry’s, I think. Oh, come on!”
“What is it, John?” Gabe asked, becoming concerned.
“In a slow walk-through,” John answered. His voice was low, conspiratorial as he watched the scene as played out in Harvey’s memory.
“This guy has the largest collection of girlie magazines I have ever seen. He has them stashed in an old boiler.”
Julie and Jennifer stifled a laugh.
“Harvey, do you recall the day of the thirty-first—I believe it was Halloween 1962—and the whole town was excited. The Cuban Missile Crisis was finally put to bed by President Kennedy, and everyone was happy. Do you remember? You must go all the way back to when you were sixteen. Halloween 1962. Do you recall that day?”
“We were thinking that most of the things planned for that night were going to be rained out. I was sure I was going to have to work the lunch counter that night. My dad always pushed me into working when the store was busy.”
“How did your day start?” Gabe asked.
“School that day was canceled because of the rain. Didn’t break our hearts. We hung out the bus stop for a while before we were told that there was no school. All hell broke loose over some stupid crap started by Jimmy Weller. He and his two buddies, Sam Manachi and Steve Cole. They usually hung out with Dean, but he was late picking them up that morning, and they were pissed off at the prospect of having to ride the lame school bus. No, not a good way to start out that day.”
George reached over and raised a glass of water to his lips and drank after speaking for Harvey. He nodded that Harvey was totally under and in the past, and Leonard had to agree. Harvey was in a deep REM sleep, just the place they needed him.
John’s eyes moved under the lids, and Gabriel knew the big man was watching the life and times of Harvey and his memories of that morning. George started talking, but his words were becoming slurred as the dream was now running far faster in Harvey’s mind than Cordero could keep up with. Now it would be up to John to remember all that happened after that.
Gabriel sat back, and the others watched as John Lonetree connected with the past of Moreno to get just a little more of the tale.
* * *
The twelve kids tried their best to stay dry as the rain pummeled the world around them. The Texaco station, and that asshole Dave Deinks, the station’s owner, wouldn’t even allow them to wait inside the garage to keep from getting soaked. Instead, they were all huddled against the wall of Dr. Lawrence Lillywhite’s office. The eave edging of the roof was just enough to keep most of the rain off them, but every time the wind picked up, so would their discomfort at getting soaked. Harvey was by himself as he waited at the end of the line of teenagers and their despair at the prospect of school. Harvey reached into his coat pocket and brought out a Phillips transistor radio, extended the ridiculously long aerial, and tuned it in. He caught the tail end of a country and western hit that made the kids waiting moan and groan and threaten Harvey’s life if he didn’t find decent music.
“And that was Patsy Cline, and this is KWOW, fifty thousand watts of power in Pomona. The time is seven fifteen on this rainy Halloween morning. Now here’s—”
The threats as to the manner of Harvey’s imminent murder drowned out the DJ, and he quickly spun the small knob on the Phillips. He breathed a sigh of relief when K-Rave came across loud and clear. The strains of Dee Clark calmed those teens listening, and they settled back trying to avoid the downpour.
There must be a cloud in my hea-ea-ea-ead, rain keeps falling from my eye, eyes … oh no they can’t be teardrops … for a man ain’t supposed to cry …
The Dodge pickup pulled to the curb, sending a wave of rainwater crashing over the sidewalk and onto the shoes of those waiting. They all tried to jump at the same time as the wave, but most failed, and that earned many shouts and curses—until, that is, they saw the man driving. It was Frank, and as of late, most kids stayed out of his way. He had been in a terrible frame of mind for the past five years after losing his wife. The only time old man Perry was decent to anyone was when his daughter was around. Luckily, she was this morning. The truck’s door opened, and Harvey saw Gloria step out and then lean back inside while her father gave her a light kiss on the cheek.
“Sorry I can’t take you all the way into school again, baby.”
“I’ll survive, Daddy,” she said as she turned and opened an umbrella. It seems the blind girl was the only one smart enough to bring one. Harvey pursed his lips as he thought about how far ahead in life this girl was than they. Lonetree watched as Harvey admired the girl, as most did without her knowing it.
“You still meeting that little—”
“Daddy, stop it. He was assigned to me, and that’s that. After he missed the last five days, he’d better make it today.”
Frank looked upset but nodded anyway. “The little creep was probably out drinking with his friends, and that was why he stood you up. If he tries anything with you, you tell me.”
Gloria took her schoolbooks and cane from the front seat and then pushed her dark glasses back onto her nose. “I am capable of handling Dean Hadley. Stop worrying.” She pursed her lips and then closed the door as she moved away. Her father lingered for the briefest of moments and then gunned the Dodge forward, sending another wave of water hurtling toward the teens lined up like a firing squad against the wall. Harvey was amazed as Gloria, the one who didn’t have the use of her eyes, blithely jumped up as the wave reached her. The others who saw it coming fell short, and more curses sprang from their mouths. The girl took a spot near Harvey at the end of the long line as she too waited for the bus.
“I love Dee Clark’s voice,” Gloria said as she held her books in one hand and the umbrella in the other. “Is that you, Harvey Leach?” she asked, tilting her head.
“How do you know who’s standing next to you without seeing them?” Harvey asked with a dumbfounded look on his acne-covered face.
“It’s no big mystery, Harvey; you always smell like french fries.”
Leach got a hurt look on his face but raised his arm nonetheless and smelled his armpit. “Really?”
Gloria smiled politely. “Really.” She leaned over and Harvey got the brief benefit of her umbrella and the soap that she used. Gloria always treated him nice, unlike the others. “A secret, Harvey,” she said with conspiracy lacing her voice. “There are far worse smells coming from others right now. More of a wet doggy smell.” She smiled at him.
Harvey laughed.
“Why listen to that Black Sambo music all the time?” came a sour voice from the front of the line. “Sam Cooke, Chuck Berry, all them jiggaboos are ruining music.”
Harvey sighed, but Gloria’s left brow rose so high that it eclipsed her dark glasses.
“Uh-oh,” Harvey said as he tried to blend into the brick wall they were leaning against.
“That is something I would expect a dumbass like you to say, Jimmy Weller,” Gloria said loudly enough to be heard over the cascading rainfall. “If it weren’t for the Negro sound of Chicago and Detroit, the rock and roll you listen to today wouldn’t be anything special, but a backward asshole like you would never understand that.”
Harvey Leach found that the brick wall wasn’t as pliable as he had hoped. He saw all three boys—Jimmy Weller, Sam Manachi, and the skinny Steve Cole—lean forward from their space under the eave. Leach knew it was trouble, because the guys were averse to water in any shape or form, and now they were getting soaked in their interest of Gloria’s insult.
“Yeah, Sambos are about as worthless as that coward in the White House,” Jimmy said with a smirk.
Harvey rolled his eyes, knowing that the forbidden door had been opened.
“Yeah, chickenshit if you ask me. Letting the Reds push us around like that in Cuba. My dad says Kennedy needs to be shot for treason,” Sam Manachi added as he braved the rain to make his point.
As the radio played Bobby Darin’s “Beyond the Sea,” Gloria handed Harvey her books with a look that told him that hell was about to be set loose right there at the medical plaza in the middle of a rainstorm.
“Oh, don’t,” Harvey said as he fumbled with Gloria’s books.
“Something I have to do, Harvey.”
Gloria turned and strolled over with the use of her white cane to the front of the line and faced the tallest of the three boys, Jimmy Weller. He was smiling as she did so.
“Ooooh,” both Steve Cole and Sam Manachi mocked terror as she faced the much larger boy.
Harvey Leach had no choice. His dad would kill him if he got wind that he stood by and had the daughter of one of his partners accosted right there on Main Street without him lifting a finger to stop it. It was better to have punches to his face by these assholes than that of a full-blown assault by his dad. He and John Lonetree in his dream state followed Gloria. Harvey fumbled his books, her books, and the radio as he attempted to assuage the bully of the town.
Steve Cole saw Harvey and grabbed him by his coat collar. Leach’s eyes went wide, realizing it had taken all of three seconds to get killed. He was thinking that he should have taken his chances with his father.
Gloria opened her mouth to speak but was drowned out by a car’s engine as it raced down the street. The red Corvette pulled into the vacant lot and stopped, spewing gravel and mud in all directions. The driver everyone knew. He leaned over and rolled down the passenger window.
“Hey, you dumbasses, school’s been canceled!” Dean shouted out the good news. “They’re afraid half the old lady teachers will melt away with water hitting them.”
The kids all laughed at his reference to The Wizard of Oz. Even Harvey gave a nervous twitter, and Steve Cole laughed, still holding him by his collar. Now he was just waiting for Gloria to get them both killed.
“Yeah!” Jimmy said, pushing by a fuming Gloria. He ran to the car and started to pull the door open, but Dean held it closed.
“What are you doing?” he asked Jimmy, who stood aghast.
“Going with you. No school, Halloween … let’s do something.”
“Have plans. Sorry, dude.” Dean looked up past Jimmy and saw Gloria and the situation that little Harvey Leach was in. “What’s going on here?” he asked.
Jimmy swiped water from his crew cut and then turned. He laughed. “I’m about to teach that blind bitch a lesson on how to talk to her betters, and that little creepy burger flipper, Leach, is about to meet the end he so richly deserves.”
Dean took a deep breath and then shut of the car’s powerful engine. He stepped out of the car with his letterman’s jacket on and open to reveal a white T-shirt as he went around the Corvette and then to the wall with Jimmy laughing and following, thinking that Hadley was taking up the cause.
Gloria heard Dean’s approach and then turned on him. Her attack had changed direction faster than Harvey could ever have imagined.
“You didn’t show up Saturday or Sunday, and you missed school Monday and Tuesday. I thought we had a deal, Mr. Ass Wipe.”
“Oh!” Sam and Steve voiced at one time with smiles.
Dean ignored Gloria for the moment as he stood in the rain. His attention went to Steve, who was holding a completely frozen Harvey Leach.
“Let him go,” he said calmly.
Steve lost his smile as he looked away from the much larger Hadley to Jimmy, whose eyes went narrow as he saw his friend turn on them. Finally, Steve released Harvey, who dropped most of the books just as the song “I Can’t Stop Loving You” by Ray Charles started playing on K-Rave.
“We can do that thing today if you still want,” Dean said to Gloria, but his eyes never left Sam’s or Steve’s. Jimmy took up station behind Dean.
Gloria, instead of answering Hadley, turned until she could smell Jimmy’s aftershave, a sickly blend of Old Spice and the purloined morning cigarettes he and his two cronies had smoked earlier.
“If you ever say anything about Negro entertainers or President Kennedy again, I’ll gouge your eyes out, you little prick,” she said so calmly that everyone listening had no doubt that little blind Gloria would do just that.
“Gloria, go wait in the car. Harvey, give her a hand, will ya?”
Gloria huffed but started moving away with Harvey assisting her in the right direction.
“Thank you, Harvey, for backing me up,” Gloria said through clenched teeth as she moved away with her cane swishing through the air ahead of her steps.
“You’re—” The word came out as a squeak, so he tried again. “You’re welcome.”
As Jimmy Weller watched Gloria leave, he turned and stepped in front of Dean. John Lonetree, instead of following Gloria and Harvey, was waiting to see what happened next. Dean looked at the three boys who stood defiantly, even ignoring the rain that was pummeling them.
“Lucky you came when you did. I was about to fuck that b—”
The punch in the face stilled Jimmy’s mouth. Dean’s strike was so hard that it slammed Jimmy against the wall before he could stop from falling. Sam was the first to react as he reached out and took Dean by the jacket and raised his fist to strike, but Dean brought his forehead forward first, connecting directly with Manachi’s wide nose. The boy screamed as blood shot from his nose and he went backward into Steve, who was in shock at how fast the day had deteriorated. Jimmy recovered faster than anyone would have thought possible. He had always respected Dean, but the straight-D-minus student had never feared him. He was up and had Dean around the neck, and then they fell into the mud and the gravel of the vacant lot.
“What are they doing?” Gloria asked a wide-eyed Harvey as he stood next to the passenger door.
“Dean’s, uh, saying good-bye, I think.”
* * *
Freekin’ Rowdy Rhoads stood at the bay window of K-Rave with the receptionist, Roberta, watching the teenage brawl across and slightly down the street as it escalated. The whole thing was being staged with “I Can’t Stop Loving You” as accompaniment. Freekin’ Rowdy turned to Roberta.
“If this is any indication how this day and night are going to go, I expect great things,” he said as he sipped his coffee with the whiskey chaser and watched.
* * *
Dean thought the gravel was going to rub his face off, but he managed to throw his head back as Jimmy was on his knees, hitting him from behind. The back of Dean’s head caught the boy square in the nose, and he flew from Hadley’s back. A bleeding Sam and a shocked Steve took over in a tag team.
The next thing anyone knew, Gloria had joined the fray. She quickly lashed out after she smelled Jimmy start to rise from where he hit the wall. Her saddle shoe caught him right on the side of the face—a glancing blow, to be sure, but well enough struck that Jimmy went back down. Gloria was thrown off balance, and she fell backward and into a mud puddle.
Two on one was never a good place to be. Dean thought his anger at the three boys would carry him through, but the sight of Gloria getting knocked down sent him into a rage where his motor functions were all but failing him. He thought he had had it until some of the weight was off him. Harvey had slammed his transistor radio into the side of Steve Cole’s head, sending him to the muck and quickly silencing Ray Charles in the process as the remains of his transistor radio fell to pieces in his clenched fist. That gave Dean an opening. He lashed out, catching Sam in the jaw and sending him sprawling next to Jimmy and Steve. He got up, dazed but alive. He grabbed Gloria, who surprisingly didn’t fight him, and they both ran for the car.
Harvey started to pick up the remains of his radio but instead kicked Jimmy in the jaw with his black Converse tennis shoe, which sent him for the last time back against the wall. He slid down into the mud and gravel for the second time, and this elicited a loud moan and oohs and aahs from the other eight witnesses at the bus stop. The legend of the great Halloween fight was born that day.
Harvey looked around in near panic and quickly decided that it was a good day to help his dad at Newberry’s. With one last look back and seeing Gloria and Dean spinning out as they left the vacant lot, Harvey ran all the way home.
* * *
Gabriel saw Harvey Leach’s relaxed face as the memory of that morning fifty-five years before started to fade back into his personal closet. He examined George, and George nodded that he was all right. They didn’t catch much of his interpretation of the events, but he was also a witness, like John, to what had happened to start that last day in Moreno.
“Amazing,” Damian said as he took a seat again after the exciting exchange. He was amazed that a prick like Dean had come to Gloria’s defense. He had to at least reevaluate his opinion of the earlier version of the president.
With the small dose of Adrenalin administered to Harvey, the old man started to come out of it. He opened his eyes and then stared straight at Kennedy.
“Didn’t work, did it? I told you hypnotism was for the weak-minded.”
Gabe slapped Harvey on the leg, a new appreciation for him after his semi-heroic acts on that morning. “You were right, Harvey; your brain is too active to be hypnotized.”
“See!” Harvey said, looking around at those in the darkened room.
“Gabe,” Jennifer said softly, “John’s still dreaming.” She looked at Kennedy with worried eyes. “He’s still there.”
“How can that be?” Julie said as she joined Leonard at the medical station to check Lonetree’s vital signs. She shook her head when she saw he was still deep in REM sleep. “Gabriel, this thing isn’t over. John’s going deeper on his own. He’s made a connection here—with what or whom, I’m not sure—but he’s still walking inside someone.”
“Heart rate is dropping,” Leonard confirmed, becoming concerned. “Blood pressure is also on the skids.”
Gabriel had expected John to come out of it on his own, but instead, he found himself reaching for the second syringe of Adrenalin. He had just uncapped the needle when Jennifer reached out and touched his hand, staying him. She shook her head.
“Are you sure?”
“I think he can come out if he wants, but he’s reacting to something. Whatever he is connected into wants him there.”
“The way things have been going, I don’t think that’s a good thing.”
Jenny still held John’s hand, and her eyes never wavered.
Gabe placed the syringe down and nodded. He was tapped on the shoulder. He turned and Damian was there with a radio in his hand. His face was grave. “It’s the mobile med unit. They report the president’s blood pressure has dropped severely. They say any lower and they’ll have to call in the helicopter and evacuate him.”
“Coincidence?” Julie asked, joining them. Even Harvey was awake and listening from his chair. He was rubbing his arm from the shots he had taken, but he was now worried about the big Indian.
“We learned the hard way there’s no such thing,” Gabe said. He came to the decision Jenny hoped for. “Let John go.”
“I think I’ll step over here with the little black guy,” Harvey said as he bobbed to his feet like a prizefighter getting off the mat. Julie helped him to a chair so he wouldn’t trip in the dark.
“George, are you picking up anything?” Gabriel asked as he and Jenny took their seats.
“I know that John’s out there. I feel he’s a little scared, but not in the way we’re used to. It’s like roller-coaster scared, if you know what I mean.”
* * *
John could swear he felt his stomach being left behind in the road somewhere as he was somehow squeezed in between Gloria and her driver, Dean. An impossibility, he knew, but here he was sandwiched center line between the two, and every time Hadley shifted gears, John braced for the inevitable pain of his nuts being crushed. But the proper gear was hit without any pain. He would have to force himself to stop flinching.
“If you don’t slow down, you’re going to kill us. You may not feel it, but my ass does. Every time you take a corner, you almost lose it. It’s wet!”
Even John, who wasn’t really there, breathed a sigh of relief when Dean finally down shifted and the powerful sports car slowed.
“I’m sorry you got into a fight with your friends, but I didn’t ask you to help!”
“They’re not my friends, and you’re welcome. You know, you may think you’re so smart, but you’re really not,” Dean said as he slowed to take a corner and then immediately sped up. “You think that every action can be explained with logic and reason, but it can’t.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, finally turning his way as the Corvette moved down the road.
“It means that old saying that he would never hit a girl that you were hoping would save you in the end. Well, it wouldn’t have. I know that creep Jimmy Weller; he would have hit you and not thought twice about what would happen to him,” Dean said as he brushed his wet hair back.
Lonetree raised his eyebrows. Gloria opened her mouth to say something and then suddenly closed it. She opened it again and then closed it just as fast.
“I guess the words thank you are stuck in there, huh? The way you keep opening that mouth and closing it.”
Again, she turned her head and faced him. “Thank you.”
“I hope poor Harvey got away.” Dean laughed. “I forgot all about him.”
Gloria turned away, wishing for the five millionth time she could see the rain. She smelled it. It was to her a wondrous thing to smell rain, and she could only imagine seeing it.
Lonetree smiled as he picked up on her thought. Not exactly the way she thought them, but close enough that John knew that she was happy for this brief moment.
“Did you bring that key?” Dean asked, drawing John’s close attention.
“Yeah, my dad’s in El Monte setting up some entertainment for the bar for the end of November. He left the keys on a hook. He would never suspect that his own little girl is a klepto.” Gloria got a concerned expression on her face and faced him angrily. “Why are we up here?” she asked. “I smell eucalyptus trees, and they only grow in one place. So, I’ll ask again, why are we here at your home? It’s the only eight-bedroom house surrounded by eucalyptus trees, so tell me why!”
Dean pulled the car over to the curb and put the emergency brake on. He faced her. “Look, I have to get some clothes. I’m wet and I’m muddy, and I think I have gravel in my underwear. But the real reason we’re here is because when you told me about what your story is about and where, I thought taking a peek at what that spooky-ass, Peter Lorre–looking Kraut doctor was up to for all those years while our fathers and the U.S. government were paying him large sums of money. My dad has something in his office, I just know it. I’m going to get whatever there is. I’ve seen these old-looking journals once or twice that I catch him looking through. I can tell they are important to him. They look really old. That may be what we need to shed some light on this wacko Nazi doctor.”
“You be careful and don’t get caught.”
“Hey, it’s me!” he said and then quickly opened his door and was gone.
* * *
John felt as trapped as Gloria. She sat and listened, and with every car that approached, she cringed, thinking it would surely be Dean’s father returning home and catching him in his office. John had tried to join Hadley inside, but he was attached to Gloria and couldn’t leave her presence. To John and Gloria, it seemed Dean was in the house for an hour, when it was actually only fifteen minutes.
The driver’s-side door suddenly opened, and Dean jumped in with an excited whoop.
“Got one of them. It was inside his locked drawer. Here, check this out.” Dean handed Gloria what looked like a leather-bound journal.
“What’s embossed here?” Gloria asked as her delicate fingers ran over the fine lettering of the imprint.
“Journal. Then below that, 1941–1943. Then at the bottom, Dr. Jürgen Fromm.”
“I don’t like that thing,” she said as she hurriedly handed the journal back to Dean.
“I know. Creepy.” Dean took the book and opened it. “It’s daily entries in German.” He looked up with hope. “Do you Sprechen sie Deutsch?” he asked, saying one of his favorite war movie lines.
“I got stuck with Mrs. McCauley’s French class,” Gloria answered with a grin.
“I got Spanish; I guess they thought I was language challenged.” As he closed the journal and started the Corvette, a bundle of paper fell free of the journal’s binding. “Look at this,” Dean said.
Gloria sat there and then slowly turned her head in exasperation. “Hello? Blind. Can’t see.”
Dean closed his eyes and silently cursed his stupidity. “Sorry.” He picked up the official-looking documents. “This is a daily report written in English. Look, it—” He caught himself again just as Gloria raised her right brow in exasperation. “Sorry, it has a Department of the Air Force header and logo. Looks like a report of some kind.”
“What does it say?” she asked.
“‘Report filed June 17, 1947, 0340 hours,’” he said as he caught the next line, “‘in the Moreno Complex.’ Let’s see. ‘Professor Fromm has misled the field reporting officers on his repeated attempts to re-create high-altitude experiment 3419—451 C. It is stated in his report and journal that he used the exact same parameters as his process did in 1941. The experiments are documented by film made by the doctor during the dates stated in last report. He insists that the experiment will continue to fail unless the direct specifications of his original discovery be followed to the letter, which this officer has stated on many occasions is an impossible request. Addendum—Colonel Robert Hadley (Ret.) has been informed of the continuing failure of Dr. Fromm.’”
Gloria heard the thunder and shivered as Dean read to her.
“January 1957.” Dean shuffled through the papers and then frowned. “None of these are in order. A lot of years missing here. He must have tossed the rest.”
“Maybe these three were the only ones your father was interested in keeping,” Gloria countered.
“This has my father’s company letterhead. Hadley Corp Gauge and Meter Company. It’s a request for more funding. ‘As of this date, transport vault #11251-A has shown no activity since arrival date of 12/15/1947. All activity inside ceased upon transport to this country. The primary cost of containment and disposal of wastewater and mercury contaminate has become a serious threat to the security of this project. Moreno is now a high priority for inspection certificates from state and local authorities. In short, gentlemen, because of the lack of internal activity from the containment vessel, it is my humble opinion and that of my partners that Operation Necromancer be canceled immediately and Dr. Jürgen Fromm be debriefed and deported to his native country. Signed, R. D. Hadley, Colonel, United States Army (Ret.)’”
“Anything else?” Gloria asked, becoming even more afraid of the growing thunderstorm.
“‘Checked final preparation for shutting down Operation Necromancer at Moreno Complex.’” Dean looked closer at the report—and then even closer. “This isn’t my father’s handwriting,” he said, and then his eyes went to the bottom of the report. “This was signed by your father, Captain F. Perry.”
“My dad?” she asked, not feeling so good about her father’s involvement with this.
“What is a necromancer?” Dean asked without shame of not knowing.
Gloria was still deep in thought. It seemed she never even knew her dad went to the old winery. With the exception of one or two times.
“Hey, what’s a necromancer?” he asked again.
“A magician, a trickster. Magic,” she said.
Dean read again.
“‘Broke viewing port on containment vessel this date. Opportunity for viewing and documenting original subjects in high-altitude experiment and the former Operation Necromancer. The interior had been unchanged since the original experiment date in 1941, inside the borders of Axis-controlled Yugoslavia. Compartment was separated into two sections—side A and side B. Observed the remains of eighteen adults in section A and twenty-eight juveniles ranging in age from six months through pubescent stages. All subjects were deceased. Project observers suspect original example of activity inside vault B conducted in March 1945 for the benefit of operational forces of the Office of Strategic Services were completely and utterly false in nature. Suspect the high-altitude experiment was a total failure and its aftereffect a hoax perpetrated by Jürgen Fromm. Included in this final report are all graphs, medical feeds, film, written documentation, and specs on containment vessels. Request massive chemical cleanup of support structure (i.e., the town of Moreno and surrounding area). Responsibility for original report falls to the field team involved (i.e., Team Five, Colonel Hadley, who refused to cosign final report).’”
“If it was a project commanded by your father, why was it my dad who signed the papers, basically stopping whatever this Operation Necromancer was?” Gloria bit her lip as she thought how to press Dean about what his father was up to. “My father killed this thing over your dad’s objections.”
“Looks that way,” Dean said, feeling guilty for no apparent reason except for knowing for sure that his own father was in the wrong. “I guess maybe that explains the falling-out they had a few years ago.”
“I think I was there the day it happened. I never put two and two together.”
“That’s it,” Dean said, placing the papers back inside the journal as he started the engine. “I think I’ll hang on to the journal and see if maybe we can get Casper Worthington’s ma to read it. She’s German, you know?”
Gloria smiled. “No, I didn’t know that. You surprise me, Dean Hadley.”
“Why’s that?”
“You just do. Let’s just leave it at that.”
They heard a car approaching over the falling rain.
“Damn, it’s my father!” he snarled. “I forgot he was coming home early to get ready for the Halloween stuff tonight.”
John watched with Dean and Gloria as the Cadillac moved slowly down the opposite side of the street toward the house Dean had just left. Dean instinctively ducked low and with his right hand he reached out and lowered Gloria’s profile. John wanted to also hide but then caught himself. He felt the guilt of the boy and girl as Robert parked his car in the driveway and entered the house. Without hesitation, Dean placed the car in gear and slowly moved off. John once more tried to leave Gloria and Dean, and this time, he felt his body leave their presence and enter the house Dean shared with his father. John was now witness to history written by another outside of the two teenagers.
* * *
Robert went to the closet and hung up his coat and slid down the knot in his tie. He was still whistling as he went through the mail he had retrieved from his mailbox. He tossed the letters on his desk and then the whistling stopped. His eyes went to the desktop. Then they fell in a puddle of water. His smile vanished and his demeanor changed. John stood watching from the entrance hall and felt the chill as Robert moved down the long hallway toward a set of doors, opened them, and passed through.
John Lonetree followed after seeing Dean’s wet footprints on the expensive floor tile. John wished he could tell the kid he wasn’t as good a burglar as he thought.
Hadley produced his set of keys and then opened the desk drawers. He examined their contents and then looked up in anger. He knew his son had developed a curiosity that had to be reined in. He picked up the phone.
Suddenly, John was whisked from the house and was again sitting on the center console of the Corvette as it sped away toward the town of Moreno. The sun was getting lower in the afternoon skies as the thunderheads built over the Southland.
Halloween night was arriving on schedule.