Raga Six (A Doctor Orient Occult Novel) (45 page)

"You mean the house is still mine?"
 

"For another few months, until you decide to handle the financial end of it. Personally, I hope you decide to hold on to the place."
 

Orient didn’t answer. He found that it pleased him somehow to think that there was a place in his memory he could return to, and rest.
 

It took Orient a short time to find a job as a physician in a private hospital. For a few months he put all his concentration on relearning the skills and reflexes of the journeyman doctor. Soon he found that he was able to fulfill his responsibilities as a physician and had free time for his personal projects.
 

He also found that Andy Jacobs’s estimate of how long it would take to untangle his legal affairs had been conservative. It was another six months and fourteen court appearances later before the case was dismissed. By the time it was finished, Orient had already replaced some of his videotape equipment and was cutting his first reel. The hours he spent away from the hospital were completely absorbed in the structuring of his visual examination of the psychic experience. The house remained empty except for the bedroom and study, both of which were crammed with books and pieces of electronic gear. As the days passed, he came to see that each moment had its own shape that he could understand. He became satisfied with his work and its reality filled his emptiness.
 

He was in his study one day, examining a series of color slides of occult symbols being projected on a screen from a microfilm reader, when he heard someone at the door.
 

When Orient answered, he saw a tall, bearded man wearing a hat and dark glasses climbing the stairs. His overcoat reached his ankles.
 

"Howdy, Doc," the man said happily. "You mind if I visit?"
 

There was something familiar about the man’s voice but Orient didn’t place it right away. Then the man lifted his sunglasses and he recognized the clear blue eyes. Orient grinned and stepped aside.

"Why the gear, Joker? Lose a big bet?"
 

Joker stepped inside. "Just being extra cool these days." He looked around. "You sure got a layout. You could turn this place into a first-class game parlor."
 

"Come in and relax." Orient led the way to the study. "Maybe I’ll let you talk me into it."
 

Joker lifted his hat and his orange-red hair spilled out. He took off his beard, put it in his overcoat pocket and then removed his coat. He threw everything down on a couch and sat down.
 

"Well, damn, Doc," he smiled broadly and leaned back, "you look together."

 
"Now that you’ve lost the disguise you look almost human yourself. I see you haven’t retired the birds yet."
 

Joker ran his fingers fondly over one of the green eagles embroidered into his brown silk cowboy shirt. "Not yet anyway. I’ve been out in Reno and Vegas working at my legal trade. Just in town for a sightsee, you understand. How was your little vacation?" he asked casually.
 

Orient frowned and sat down across from him. "You should have told me there was cocaine in that bag, Joker."
 

Joker hung his head. "I suppose so, Doc," he agreed. "But I figured there was better than an even chance you wouldn’t go for it. They would have snapped me off the street in a second, but the heat had no line on you. You were certified. And the stuff wasn’t going to a pusher. It was a legitimate deal." Joker looked up. "Just a transfer for a good profit." He smiled and leaned over toward Orient. "And you got to admit that a nice quiet vacation in Tangier was just the ticket."
 

"Some ticket," Orient said, looking down at his wrinkled hands. He shrugged and looked up, "Staying a while? There’s room here if you need a place to sleep. But no gaming parlors and no deals."
 

Joker slapped his palm on his knee. "Wouldn’t that be something? The fanciest, coolest, hardest-working gambling saloon in New York." He chuckled sadly as he considered it. "But we can’t do it. After coming so close to the Feds, I decided to just do my poker playing in Nevada. Man can’t concentrate on his work when he’s got to worry about the heat."
 

Orient leaned forward in his chair as he thought of something. "Listen, Joker," he said evenly, "maybe you could stay here a few days and help me work out some lab experiments with playing cards."
 

Joker thought it over. "You know," he said after a long pause, "I did some asking around on you when I first met you. Just being cool, no offense," he added quickly. "I heard about the psychic stuff you did. At one time I thought we could work something out for card games."
 

He held up his hand as Orient started to protest. "But then I thought it over again and decided cards wouldn’t be fun no more." He stood up. "I only got a few days in town and I promised this lady from Vegas I’d show her around. I just dropped by to make sure you were doing okay and weren’t sore at me."
 

Orient stood up and held out his hand. "Case dismissed," he smiled.
 

"Doc," Joker said solemnly as he shook Orient’s hand, "you got my word that from now on everything between us is absolutely cool." He pulled the beard from his overcoat pocket and put it on. "I didn’t want anyone to see me in case they’re watching the house."
 

"You really think they might be?" Orient said incredulously.
 

"Well, Doc"—Joker put on his dark glasses and began stuffing his long hair into his hat—"you can’t be too careful. Faye made me promise. She’s this lady from Vegas I’m with. This is her first time in the city and she wouldn’t forgive me if I got into trouble with my old friends. Faye is very particular about me staying respectable."
 

He pulled the hat down, buttoned up his overcoat, and ambled to the door. "Sorry I can’t stay and help you with your experiment. And I sure apologize for any hassle over that bag." He opened the door and turned to shake hands with Orient. "But you got to admit you learned something from that hand I dealt you. It’s just like Faye always tells me."
 

"What’s that?" Orient asked.
 

Joker lifted his sunglasses and winked. "Never trust a gambler."