The Supernaturals (26 page)

Cordero next surveyed the small black man sitting beside the Indian. He had introduced himself as Leonard Sickles, and then quickly told them all to call him “Too Smart” instead. Leonard was not as well dressed as the big man next to him. He wore tan Dockers with a red polo shirt. He was doodling on one of the expensive notepads that had been placed at every seat around the table. Every once in a while the black kid would look up suddenly, as if he expected the police to break in at any moment.

Cordero poured the expensive whiskey, then considered the small woman at the window, who seemed even more out of place than the rest of the menagerie at the table. She didn’t move at all, wasn’t the least bit curious about her surroundings, and every once in a while she would look up and to her left as if someone were sitting next to her. She would frown, her delicate brow pinching as if she were about to cry. The short-haired woman looked like a lost soul. She had not said a word.

George moved to his chair across from John Lonetree, and smiled as he sat. Lonetree looked Cordero in the eyes for the briefest of moments, and then looked away. He sat up a little straighter and then glanced at the door. The Indian raised his index finger and pointed to the conference room’s large double doors. At that very moment, the doors opened. Lonetree’s smile grew and he winked at Cordero.

Julie Reilly, Kelly Delaphoy and Lionel Peterson entered the room, followed by the man who had been introduced to them earlier as Harris Dalton, dressed in a blue shirt and tan sport jacket. Behind the mysterious project’s director, Professor Gabriel Kennedy entered, clean shaven and carrying a small briefcase. He stood rooted just inside the door for a moment, looking at each of his friends in turn. Then he smiled and came forward, laying his briefcase on the table as the others settled in around it.

“John, I hoped you would come,” he said, taking the larger man’s hand in his own.

Lonetree slapped the hand away and took Kennedy into an embrace, patting his back so hard that Gabriel thought it would knock the wind out of him.

“What can I say? Rez life ain’t what it used to be—figured I needed some crazy shit to lighten my burden.”

Leonard Sickles waited patiently until John released Kennedy. Gabriel smiled and took Sickles by the shoulder. “Hello you little shit, how are things in the hood?”

“Too Smart” smiled and slapped Kennedy’s outstretched hand.

“Man, the hood don’t have nothin’ on those vultures in the business world. Those cats are dangerous!”

“I told you when we last spoke, watch out what you ask for—”

“Yeah, yeah—I just may get it. Well, I got it.”

Kennedy gave Sickles a low five and then turned his attention to Cordero, who stood on the far side of the table. He was admiring Kelly Delaphoy’s ass as she leaned over to place her own case by her chair. He looked up and raised his eyebrows twice. The last time Kennedy had seen George, he had been performing on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood to sold-out crowds. He hadn’t spoken to him since his arrests on several embezzlement and fraud charges. Kennedy just smiled and pointed a finger at Cordero, who held up his hands in a mock surrender.

Jennifer Tilden hadn’t even seemed to notice that the others had filed into the room. Kennedy approached her slowly while the others took their seats around the table.

She had been cleaned up nicely and dressed well. She was wearing a green skirt with no stockings and a nice blouse covered by a sweater. She sat with her hands together, watching the goings-on in the city below. Her hair had been styled severely but neatly, suiting her pretty face. Kennedy knelt beside her and lifted her chin with his hand.

“Hi, Jenny,” he said, smiling into her tired face.

A slow moving smile started to brighten her face.

“Hello Gabriel. I see you’re trying to get back into business again.”

Kennedy touched her cheek.

“How’s Bobby Lee?” he asked.

Jennifer looked away, out the window once again.

“Oh, he’s been pointing out all the changes down on Seventh Street. He says the town’s going downhill fast.” She smiled wider and then looked up into Gabriel’s concerned face. “Did you know he recorded his last album right here in this building, just before…before...” she trailed off.

Gabriel frowned gently. “I think Bobby Lee needs to layoff for a while, Jenny. It’s nice that he’s taking you on a tour of memory lane, but it wasn’t you who had him killed, and it wasn’t you who led him to deal with the worst elements of the music industry.” Kennedy stood and took her hand. “Why don’t you join us at the table, and I’ll explain what it is we need you for—what we need you
and
Bobby Lee for.”

Jennifer Tilden tried to smile, but failed miserably. Still, she allowed Gabriel to assist her from her chair and lead her toward the conference table. Before sitting, Jennifer pulled out an empty chair to her right. She sat, then looked expectantly at the empty seat next to her. She looked as if she wanted to say something, but Gabriel leaned over and whispered in her ear. She lowered her gaze to the shiny tabletop. She didn’t look back up, but she did slide her notepad over to the space in front of the empty chair.

Kelly and Julie exchanged looks.

Lionel Peterson rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Professor, I have a busy day planned. There’s more to my job than seeing to Kelly’s wants and wishes.”

Kennedy’s dislike for Peterson had been instant, the moment they had been introduced at a breakfast meeting that morning. The man was a schemer, and was not to be trusted any more than Delaphoy or Reilly.

Gabriel walked to the head of the long conference table. He looked at the faces of the only people he trusted—his old friends.

“John, I’ll start with you.”

Lonetree eyed Gabriel. He already knew what was wanted of him. He knew he could deliver, but wondered if Kennedy remembered the toll it would take on him to do so.

“Ms. Delaphoy, we will need you to contact Mr. Lindemann to request several items from Summer Place for Mr. Lonetree’s use.”

Kelly started writing on her notepad. “Such as?”

“A family portrait, a dish or two, a piece of the drywall, water from the pool, hay from the stables, silverware—”

“What this is for, Professor?” Peterson asked, raising his right brow as if that alone was enough to show Kennedy that he was still in charge.

“I’ll explain when I’m done.”

Peterson bit his lower lip, stopping the demand that was about to burst out of his mouth. He dipped his head forward in a brief, sharp nod.

“Thank you. John needs a sampling of the house. In particular, anything from the upstairs. Bed linen, a swatch of wallpaper, a piece of drywall, anything. You’ll see to that, please?”

Kelly finished writing, then looked up as if to ask if there was anything else.

“Can you add to the list, John?” Kennedy asked.

“That may be a good start. But with less than four days until Halloween, I need the items overnighted if possible.” He smiled at Gabriel. “I’ll only have two nights in which to travel.”

Kennedy returned the smile and then looked at the curious faces around him. “Dream Walking runs in John’s family. By keeping items from the house close around him, John may be able to feel something that may help us in the long run, and it may help him key in on something during your broadcast.”

Julie glanced over at Lionel Peterson, who closed his eyes and shook his head.

“I hope you’ll let us in on whatever Mr. Lonetree comes up with so it can be used on the air?” Peterson said.

Kennedy again didn’t answer Peterson; he turned back to Kelly instead.

“Do you foresee a problem with acquiring those items, or similar ones?”

“When you deal with Wallace Lindemann, you don’t foresee. You know. Yes, he will bitch and complain, but he’ll do what’s asked.”

“Good, because if he doesn’t, I’ll need you to get out there and steal the items I have asked for—it’s key to the overall assault plan on Summer Place.”

“Assault?” Peterson asked.

“Yes, that’s the only word that fits. We have to assault that house. Its defenses will be up, and I already know its offensive capabilities.”

Peterson smiled and shook his head again. “I hope you’re writing down everything Professor Kennedy is saying, Kelly. It should make for one hell of a script.”

Kelly looked up from her notepad. Before she could retort, Peterson nodded to Kennedy. “Continue, Professor.”

Gabriel walked around the table to Leonard Sickles, who was still doodling on the notepad in front of him.

“Leonard, we come to you. The Infra-Spectroscope—how’s it coming?”

Leonard felt the pressure of Gabriel’s hands on his shoulders—still the only man alive that Leonard trusted enough to touch him. The young man ripped the first four pages from his notebook and lifted them into the air. Gabriel took them and glanced over them. While they had thought the small black man was doodling, he had actually been working.

“Looks like these parts may be expensive,” Gabriel said.

“Nah.” Leonard looked toward Harris Dalton. “The network techs may have everything we need right here in this building. I might have to contact Sperry-Rand, or maybe GE, for a few things, but nah... It should be no problem.”

“May I ask just what Mr. Sickles is going to be building?” Peterson asked. When Gabriel looked his way, he quickly held up his hand. “I have budget concerns here, Professor—and I will ask whatever I want to ask regarding this show.”

“The Infra-Spectroscope is a device Mr. Sickles started developing when he heard about my rather curious investigation.”

“What kind of device is this, kid?” John Lonetree asked, visibly curious.

Leonard “Too Smart” Sickles looked absolutely delighted to be asked a direct question. He didn’t care about the network people, but was pleased to be accepted by Kennedy’s friends.

“Well, Mister Lonetree, it’s a cross between a night-vision scope and an air density accelerator. I can use it in several different ways. If it’s ghosts we’re looking for, I may be able to see them. I made a cheap version once and was able to catch a few things that Dr. K didn’t even believe.”

“They scared the hell out of me. I still don’t know what he caught on that damn thing.” Kennedy smiled at his young friend.

“Can this device be hooked into one of our remote cameras?” Harris Dalton asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“Yeah, man, I think so… if you can spare a few of your guys to do some experimenting.”

“You’ll have a team assigned to you from any division you want, if it means we might catch a ghost on camera,” Dalton said with a smile.

“Well, failing that, I know I can at least track the bastards.”

“You’re kidding?” Julie asked, looking from Leonard to Gabriel.

“Air density,” Leonard said. He grinned appreciatively at Julie, eyeing her up and down and not caring who saw him do it. “Anything that moves—I don’t give a damn if it’s invisible and weighs nothing—even a ghost has to push aside air in order to move from place to place. No matter what, it has to change its environment—air temperature, dust in the air, or even light refraction. And when it does, old Too Smart will have its ass.”

Leonard looked around the room with an
I just ate the canary
smile on his face. Lonetree nodded appreciatively.

The double doors opened and Jason Sanborn came through them holding a giant roll of paper. He laid the sheets on the conference table, almost burying George Cordero. George politely smiled and removed half of them from his lap, then shook spilled whiskey from his hand.

“Sorry, old man,” Jason said, removing his pipe from his mouth. “And you must be Gabriel Kennedy.” He came around the table and took Gabriel’s hand in his own.

“And you must be the producer.”

“Yes, Jason Sanborn…and I have something for you, Professor.” He released Kennedy’s hand and walked back around the table. “Excuse me, young man, can you hand me that schematic at your feet, please?”

Cordero looked from Sanborn to Kennedy. He smiled without moving. “Let me guess...You found the diagrams of the original specs to Summer Place?” he asked Sanborn.

“Yes, that is correct,” the producer answered. He replaced his pipe between his teeth and pushed his glasses up on his nose.

“That’s not really a stretch, is it, Mr. Cordero?” Lionel Peterson asked with a small smirk. “I mean, it’s is quite obvious that Mr. Sanborn was carrying architectural drawings.”

“That’s not the something he was talking about,” George said. Kelly and Julie were watching him, as if they both suspected that another of Kennedy’s prodigies was about to show off. George smiled at them, then closed his eyes and held up his right hand. With a mysterious hum, he shook the hand over the table. “He’s going to tell you that the original architect was none other than F.E. Lindemann himself.”

“That is correct,” Jason said. “How could you know that? These drawings weren’t listed with the county, but in the family wing at the Philadelphia museum.”

“I’m sure we’re impressed with this gentleman’s prowess at guessing games. Can we move on?” Peterson said, frowning.

“Well, George here just demonstrated his ability to feel things,” Kennedy said. “The same with Mr. Lonetree. Now we’ll use them to—”