"Detective Dimarco, I know who killed the Fenton's," the short, sandy haired man said with a sigh, staring through his thick glasses with bloodshot eyes, the faint smell of alcohol on his breath. The splash of the fountain from the central garden of the Stamford Court Hotel rippled in the background. "I know why he killed them," Dr. Domminick Tessloff said, pushing his glasses up on his nose, "and I know how he killed them. You will find it impossible to believe. It can be proven with the proper approach, he said, his eyes narrowing. It can be," he said with intensity, as if the force of his words could make it true. He stared for a moment at nothing and let out a sigh. "It must be, he said softly, as if talking to himself. Dr. Tessloff sat for a moment then opened his briefcase and shuffled through a disorderly stack of papers, slowly sorting them into two stacks. "You are going to find this incredible," Tessloff said hurridly without looking up, his voice almost a whisper," but I have the background information to prove it." He carefully laid two pages aside and resumed his shuffling.

Charley waited for the psychiatrist to get his papers together, wondering if he had, a lead, a nut case or a case closer. Brutal, well publicized murders often brought the nut cases out and he had never trusted psychiatrists in the first place. Half the psychiatrists were crazier than half their patients by his estimation. Shrinks were usually nothing but word weasels thinking up new profitable terms for psychological conditions as old as humanity while doing little to cure them.

He watched the small man who passionately shuffled his papers with a look of complete concentration. Dr. Tessloff had called him from the Stamford Court Hotel less than an hour before, requesting a meeting as soon as possible, only telling him he was a psychiatrist who was a close friend of David Fenton and that he had information about the couples murder. Jim would have to be filled in when he returned that evening from interviewing one of Fentons co-workers.

The final paper fell into its pile. Dr. Tessloff's eyes shifted to the floor as if trying to find the words somewhere beneath the concrete. "I have a lot that I must tell you, some is fact, some, I admit, is conjecture," Dr. Tessloff said slowly, almost having to drag the words out. "Yes," he said, twirling his pen between his index fingers and thumbs and nodding his head, "you will find what I have to say quite unbelievable," his eyes a well of sadness. I understand the problems you will . . ."

"If it's alright with you, Dr. Tessloff" Charley said, his voice carrying his annoyance at the delay, "why don't you just tell me who killed them so we can move this investigation along."

"I apologize. I tend to be long winded. They were killed by Henrich Jaegar."

"Why would Dr. Jaegar want to kill the Fenton's? Charley asked, hiding his interest in the linking of Dr. Jaegars name to the killings.

The doctor seemed to explode. "Don't call Jaegar a doctor," Tessloff growled, eyes flashing in anger, his face contorted in hate. "Hes not a doctor. He's not a man. He is not even human. None of them are. They are beasts of prey in human form. They are not fit to be called human.

Charley calmed him, noting his reaction, not at all sure what he had on his hands. "Exactly why did Jaegar kill the Fenton's?" Charley asked when Tessloff had regained some of his composure.

"I worked with Henrich Alfred Jaegar years ago on a government project having to do with hypnosis, will and memory," Tessloff said, ignoring the irritation on Charley's face. "We worked on developing psychoactive drugs that increase an individual's susceptibility to deep hypnosis and ones that change and erase memory. Drugs that would allow someone to program a person almost like a computer but with the programming hidden deep beneath the surface. We jokingly nicknamed the program Wind," he said, a painful half smile coming from within. "You might say we were trying for an effect without any visible cause."

Did they know they were subjects, Charley asked, temporarily putting Dr. Jaegar on the back burner.

Im afraid that Im not able to discuss that with you, Detective.

"Where did you get your subjects for these little experiments," Charley asked, a feeling of disgust growing for the elderly gentleman who looked like a friendly college professor," did they know they were guinea pigs in you little laboratory?"

Tessloff lowered his head and there was a moment of silence and stared at the table as if in penance. Then he stiffed. "I understand your feelings for what we did but I signed a secrecy agreement with the government of the United States of America. If you want information concerning the exact nature of the experiments you will have to contact them."

"I see," Charley said, his eyes narrowing, wanting to reach out and thump the man for his clever little statement. "That takes care of that, for the time being. Please continue Dr. Tessloff." Charley watched the man as he grappled with some inner devil that seemed to torment him.

"Jaegar decided to conduct his own research without the ball and chain of regulations. He had three homeless men almost beaten to death by two violent male subjects that he drugged and hypnotized outside the parameters of our program. Jaegar has a love of violence, both physical and psychological. He wasn't alone. There were four of them altogether and they talked of making money with the drugs. One, Benson, is deceased. The other two are his director Monique Deffosse and Dr. Benrubi Saliban who works at his institute. I pray they all burn in hell."

"And just how did you discover that Jaegar and his associates were involved in these actions," Charley asked, turning over the possibilities in his mind, a dark fear settling over him. Charley noticed a slight tic in Fenton's right eye as he went into a rambling explanation of how Jaegar and the deceased associate had at first used the drugs they were developing to seduce several women. They had used cameras to record the conquests. One of the drugged women went into acute, chronic schizophrenia. "A beautiful young woman," he said, his voice breaking, his tic accelerating." Tessloff hesitated for a moment, staring into space as if Charley wasn't even there, the tic quivering, his eyes misting over. Finally he brought himself back. "The associate had bragged about the conquests and showed the films to several close friends and invited them to join in the fun and the search for new conquests. They were going to have hunting expeditions in local bars.

Jaegar was a part of this? Charley asked.

Jaegar was obsessed with the research. He wanted to expand the research and pull out all the stops, to completely take over the subjects minds and rebuild them to his specifications. The women were just a pleasurable interlude."

Charley sat back in his chair and looked at the man. Did you contact the police?

No. I couldnt . . .

Did you contact your superiors? Charley asked, cutting him off from his explanation.

I tried to explain to them what Jaegar was doing. At first they didnt listen. Finally they did but all the government was truly interested in was the completion of the project and plausible deniability. Everyone wore blinders and kept the faith. Top secret programs are very different from the regular government workplace. But I tried to get him removed from the program and he finally was after a year. Dr. Tessloff fell silent for a moment, his bloodshot eyes looking at nothing in particular.

Give me the details of what you did, Charley said.

Dr. Tessloff began to recount his efforts to have Jaegar removed from the program, his anger growing again. It had been an uphill fight against a well-respected researcher with friends who could pull strings and sway opinions. For a while he had feared for his own safety, afraid that Jaegar and company might program someone and send them against him. An investigation was finally conducted. A hearing was held, the results were classified and sealed. Jaegar and his friends were removed from the program.

Charley wondered if any of what Tessloff was saying about his efforts were true. People were always braver the second and third time a story was told. The more the story was told, the braver they got, the bigger the enemy, the greater the struggle.

"Jaegar is a piece of filth," Tessloff said, spitting the words out, his breath coming harder. "He completely destroyed a sensitive young woman just to satiate his lust for sex and power over another's mind. And it's too late to prove it." Charley watched the tic quicken as and he wondered if and how the doctor had been involved with the young woman who had the nervous breakdown.

"I can tell you," he said, looking hard into Charley's eyes, "it is entirely possible to have someone commit crimes under hypnosis and not remember. Even murder, particularly if certain drugs are used with the hypnosis. And Jaegar has them," his voice growing louder and more forceful. "He has them." Tessloff paused for a moment to gain control. "Let me give you some background information," he said, handing the stack of papers over to Charley. Over the next half an hour the homicide detective listened to an increasingly disturbing history of one human being seizing control of another human's mind backed up by Tessloffs papers and reports on the incidents. A hypnotized bank robber in Norway who couldn't remember robbing banks, a CIA study that determined it is possible to induce someone to involuntarily commit an assassination under hypnosis, LSD-25 experiments, the MK-Ultra Mind Control Program, psychiatrists having sex with drugged and hypnotized patients. Tessloff finally finished his list of horror stories and dropped the last of the papers on the table. He sunk back into the couch.

Charley scanned the papers seeing nothing that was hard evidence. "Just how did you find out about Fenton?"

"Professor Fenton had been suspicious of Jaegar for quite some time, they had been working together for over a year. He was researching Jaegar's background under the pretense of doing a book on the new pioneers of psychological research. He would mention he had heard rumors of Jaegar doing some unorthodox experiments to try and draw out any information about Jaegars past that someone might know. An associate of mine, a mutual acquaintance, gave him my name as someone who had worked with Jaegar. My name and Jaegar's are not unknown in the field of psychological research. It wasn't until he brought up the subject that I gave him the generalities of Jaegar's actions in the government experiments. It was such a relief to find someone else who knew who Jaegar truly was."

"How did Professor Fenton become suspicious of Jaegar?" Charley asked, studying the bespectacled man intently, trying to determine how much he could trust what he said, afraid that the man might be telling the whole truth.

"Fenton began investigating Jaegar after a student of his, a young woman who worked at the institute as an secretary told him about irregularities in the research. Jaegar was seeing patients for whom there were no records. One young woman who was an after hours patient developed severe mental problems, returned to her hometown and was hospitalized for four months. She is still on medication and in psychotherapy. Dr. Tessloff paused for a moment and stared into space, listening to the sound of the fountain. "He destroyed a beautiful young woman, he said, shaking his head, several beautiful women. He murdered the Fentons. It can be proven," he said, staring at the floor, his eye ticking. "It must be. It is the truth.

Charley leaned back in his chair and quickly went over the points a lawyer would bring up. "You haven't given me anything that comes close to being concrete evidence. A part time secretary doesnt see certain records, that doesnt mean they dont exist. A young woman who is seeing a psychiatrist has mental problems?" He held out his open hands. "Your alleged victims of hypnotic suggestion don't remember a crime being committed against them?" He shook his head. "Your information on Dr. Jaegar and the experiments is locked in a top secret government file that can't be opened? There's no trace that a crime has been committed though I believe that it's certainly possible. And why would Jaegar want to kill Fenton just because he suspected Jaegar of seducing a young woman? If he used hypnotic drugs that erase memory where is the threat from the girl? There would be nothing that could be proven. Jaegar could just as easily accuse you and Fenton of brainwashing and sexually using the lady if she can't remember."

"I have papers from the institute. Tessloff said with hesitation, not sure he should give out the information. And we had a vial of one of the drugs Jaegar was using. It has to be refrigerated. Fenton had it at his house and now it is gone. I called his daughter and had her look for it. Its gone.

How long after he received the drug was he killed?

Three days.

The secretary took the drug and papers for you?

Yes, Tessloff said with hesitation.

Where are the papers?

The papers are in some type of code. Im trying to decode them now. I have a copy of some of them, he said, looking into his briefcase.

Dont worry about the copies. The young woman still works at the Instutute? Charley asked, planning his statement carefully.

Yes, but she doesnt want to be involved any more. She has changed completely. I spoke with her last night while I was packing in Orlando. She didn't want to meet with me and says she now thinks Professor Fenton was trying to steal Jaegar's research. Jaegar must have opened her mind," he said, his face contorting in anger. "He must have her under his control. He is a complete animal. There is nothing he won't do."

Charley ignored the last of Tessloffs statement and his face turned to stone as he eyes bored into Tessloff. "Withholding evidence in a murder investigation is a felony punishable by a considerable amount of time in the state penitentiary, he said in a low growl. I want you to listen carefully to what I say. I need all the information you have and I need it now. The originals." He leaned close to Tessloff's face and lowered his voice to his lowest growl, "Keep in mind that you have already admitted to receiving stolen property. Thats a felony. This is a murder investigation. If there is any information in that briefcase pertaining to these murders give it to me now or I will arrest you right now. We will have our own people decode it, wondering where the hell he would find someone to tackle that task. He took out his handcuffs and tossed them into the air, snatching them from their fall with his beefy hand. I don't think you'd fare well in the state penitentiary among the murders, drug smugglers and rapists." He watched his words take effect on Dr. Tessloff.

"You may be the darling of a cell block full of dirty, uneducated, violent, sex starved men. Any old port in a storm." He could see that he had Tessloff's complete attention. "You've told me some of your little research horrors, maybe I should tell you some horror stories prison guards tell me. Look on the bright side, at least you won't get pregnant."

Inside, Charley grinned his Cheshire Cat grin as he watched the images roam through Tessloff's mind. He leaned toward the doctor. "And I'll put you there for ten years minimum if I don't get all that you have right now. You have about three seconds to start talking and hand over everything."

" I . . .I was planning to give you everything, to tell you everything." Dr. Tessloff reached into his briefcase and pulled out an manila envelope of papers. "I just wanted to decode the papers first.

"Now, Dr. Tessloff, you're going answer my questions and tell me everything you know or you'll be having some two-hundred and fifty pound loser patting you on the butt and calling you sweetheart."

"It's not necessary to say things like that," Tessloff said, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "It really isn't"

Steven Raker The Wind in the Trees

Dr. Henrich Alfred Jaegar sat in the exclusive Cafe Blu drinking cappuccino, letting the day's tension wash away, observing the buffet of lithe young female bodies passing by through the trailing tendrils of vines from the hanging baskets. He eyed them the way a hunter eyed a heard for the finest trophy. A sexy one would sometimes catch his eye and he would examine her as she walked, her mannerisms, the way she carried herself, if she were aware of his gaze, how she reacted. Women are so predictable, he thought, once you analyze them and pay attention. And do a bit of planning.

He watched the rhythmic swaying of a young woman's hips as she strolled down the tree lined street of the downtown business district. She glanced at him and he smiled, gazing intently into her eyes. You value an older man's appreciation don't you, he thought as she casually looked at him and smile back as she went out of view. I wonder what the depths of your sexuality really enjoy, he thought as he laughed inside.

He glanced at his Rolex, left two dollars on the table and strolled to the silver Jaguar XJS convertible parked in front of the entrance. The engine purred into life and he pulled out into traffic briefly glancing at each pretty woman. Once out of heavy traffic, he settled into a cruising speed of seventy-five miles per hour and turned on the radar detector. Heads turned as the silver Jaguar with the handsome dark haired man purred through the late afternoon commuters.

He turned into a private drive, following the asphalt lane as it wound through tall pines toward the house on Sycamore Lake. Stopping under the cover of the gatehouse, he inserted his card in the slot and waited as the seven foot high wrought iron gates slid open. He drove slowly through the thick stands of trees that surrounded the secluded hideaway, enjoying the feel of the car, catching a glimpse of Monique Deffosse's red Mercedes as he approached the house. The twenty-acre property had no neighbors except for a small bungalow owned by a businessman in Jacksonville that lay just outside its seven-foot high chain link fence perimeter. The three-bedroom house sat back from the lake on a small rise, a board walkway ran wound through cypress trees to the boat house and dock with its twenty-seven foot Stratos and twenty foot Sunbird Oddesy floating in their bays. On the rare weekend that he took time off he would sometimes bring his employees to the lake and cook a meal in the middle of the lake on the Oddesy. There was always a business meeting afterwards. There was never a complete day off.

At the house he gathered an armload of firewood from the woodshed and carried it inside. Monique Deffosse turned to greet him as Henrich leaned over and kissed her. She stood in bare feet, all five-five of her, wearing an old pair of jeans and loose blouse, her dark brown hair disheveled around her slender shoulders. Her soft brown eyes watched him as he stacked the firewood by the stone fireplace and began to start the fire. "You're late," she said as she turned back to the counter and finished slicing the tomato for her salad.

"I stopped for coffee at Café Blu. I needed to unwind abit before the drive." When the fire was started he went to her, cupping his hands around her breasts from behind and rubbing her nipples lightly between his fingers. She squirmed, sensuous lips making a pout as she poured too much oil on the salad.

"Will you be staying the weekend?" She picked up the salad and kissed him on the cheek and slid from his grasp.

"I have to work tomorrow and part of Sunday. I'll be able to stay the nights," he said.

You always have to work. I'm taking the whole weekend off" she said, slicing a block of Gouda into small chunks and spreading it across the lettuce, "no work, just rest and relaxation. Wasn't it terrible about the Fentons?"

"A brutal and shocking calamity," Henrich said, watching her carefully, trying to discern her reason for bringing it up.

You dont sound very sincere, she said.

We had our differences but those ended with his transfer. I heard they were a very happy couple, married for thirty years. It was a tradegy. Now let us change the subject."

"Very well Henrich. Does your wife know where you're at, I mean, does she know you're with me."

"I would imagine. We've been seeing each other long enough," he said with a laugh.

"Doesn't she ever mind? I mean, you two are married and you and I spend a great deal of time together."

"I've told you, she and I came to an agreement a long time ago. We are man and wife, we enjoy each other's company when we are together, we respect each other, we just don't happen to sleep together that much anymore. She's spending the weekend in Jacksonville, perhaps with a man . . . perhaps with a woman, I hope with one or the other. I want her to have her pleasure. We have a great marriage. I feel we understand our human nature and our individual personalities well and have arranged our lives for the maximum happiness. Speaking of happiness and women together, how is that fine young filly that's been sharing your bed. Jessica's very attractive."

"We see each other from time to time. We're good friends," Monique said, taking the salad to the couch.

"You have good taste," he said, sitting on the couch next to her and sliding off his shoes. "You know you hurt me when you turned down my offer of a menage A' Trois. The three of us together for a weekend. A weekend to remember. A weekend to be proud of. Do speak to her about it. You of all people know I'm not into anything kinky."

"Henrich, you know I feel sex is a one on one affair."

"It would be so beautiful. Honestly, Monique," he said smiling and shaking his head, "sometimes you can be so . . . bourgeoisie."

She shrugged and looked at him, amusement in her eyes. "Perhaps some day, if you're a good boy."

"I'll be a very good boy," he said slyly. Henrich got up and opened a bottle of Cabernet, filling two glasses with wine. The fire crackled and cast its glow throughout the room as the sky began to redden with the setting of the sun. He paused for a moment to let the possibilities of the two women together with him dance through his head and felt himself growing hard. He walked to the couch and sat down beside her, slipping the glass of wine into her hand. She reached over and checked his hardness and smiled as she took a sip of wine.

"I have a few things I want to talk about before we start the weekend," Monique said. "What about the new formulas, are they better?"

Henrich let out a sigh, she always had something to talk about when he had a hard on. Amusement flooded Monique's eyes.

"The new formula for Psytazine makes it equally effective in a drink as it is injected, "Henrich said, "but it still has to be refrigerated until it is used. Still, that is a great step forward, an immense improvement. We still haven't found a way to keep the Memoteck in the system from breaking down. The last formula didn't work out.

"I just don't want anyone remembering anything," Monique said quietly. "Just the possibility keeps me awake at nights."

"With the deep trances and hypno-programming I am able to induce with Psytazine there will be no problem. They will supply us the information we require and remember it as a call for information about their next appointment or for one of our books in case there is ever an investigation."

"The drugs don't work all the time," she said, concern in her voice. "Sometimes they remember pieces." She looked at him for an answer.

"I will admit the drugs aren't perfect yet, it's possible that they might remember a segment of some event if the hypno-programming failed for some reason but there would be just be a fragment. The new Memotk patch will take care of that. Memoteck works best if used in a patch to constantly feed the drug into the system. I had to buy the machinery to load the patches and it wasnt cheap. But when the patch is on and the Memoteck is circulating directly in the bloodstream, that is a different matter, I can bypass short and long term memory and they remember nothing."

You don't know for certain that they remember nothing or if it's just deeply suppressed by the Memoteck. There wasn't enough time to work with it before Tessloff closed us down."

"I have been unable to find memories of actions committed under the direct action of Memoteck and I used heavy doses of Psytazine to look," he said with exasperation, wishing she would not constantly need reassurance.

"I have seen the results of some of your heavy searching with Psytazine," she said with disgust. "Did you crush them just for fun? People are not guinea pigs that can be thrown out when you are finished. You better not break your promise not to do that anymore," she said, anger temporarily flaring. "The memories could still be in some dark corner that even Psytazine couldn't reach. There is a great deal that we don't understand about the human mind," she said, staring at the last of her salad.

A dissatisfied look came over Henrich Jaegar's face. It was something they had discussed before and she was obviously unable to change her way of thinking about human beings or to remove her doubts about the drugs. "With the hypnosis inducing and trance enhancing properties of Psytazine and the memory opening and changing qualities of Memoteck there will be no problem," he said, hoping the subject would be closed. "Dr. Saliban and I have work to do on both drugs. I am cutting us an extremely wide margin of safety. Even if they did remember and isolated event they would only have a brief image not connected to anything else. Even a hypnotherapist cant get any information after I have done a complete job with them. Let Saliban and I worry about fine tuning the drugs. Now, lets talk business for a moment then get down to some serious pleasure. How did you do on that last merger?" he asked, taking a sip of wine.

"I made out like a bandit in options," she said with a smile, leaning back on the couch and stretching, her blouse firm against her breasts. "If there is one thing this girl likes, it's money," she said with a smile. "The deeper the river of money, the more I like to swim.

Henrich laughed and went to the hardwood cabinet and brought out a silver tray with a small antique gold snuff box full of cocaine. Two silver snorting tubes lay by the box. They each inhaled a line of the fine white powder and he assured her that it was the highest purity that money could buy. They discussed their profits, the stock buys made from the Caymen Islands and the profits hidden away there and in the Channel Islands. The talk turned to how to spend the money from the financial information the patients were giving, then to the few in political circles who had tried the Institute and found that it vastly increased their energy and efficiency and made them feel transcendent. They agreed there was great potential and great risk in politics and they would have to move slowly and be sure of every step. Henrich poured more Cabernet and brought Monique a glass as she sat looking at the blazing logs.

"I will be the first to truly map the unconscious," Henrich said, looking out over the lake, the cocaine speeding through his system. "Do you want to know the reason I will be first? Because when those morons in government research went home, I was still working. While they went to their churches, their dinners, their ball games, I was still working. While they were having their discussions about what to do next, I combined drugs and techniques and penetrated deep into the mind and the unconscious. Those silly twits will be arguing over rules forever. I did the work that no one else would do. I made the discoveries. I took the risks. Rules are the stepping stones to power, you must walk on them to get to the throne."

"There were unnecessary causalities." said Monique, gazing at the dancing flames, "very unnecessary."

"That was a long time ago. There were casualties but not unnecessary ones, there are always casualties when there is a breakthrough. I made certain they were people who didn't matter. Most of them didn't have a great deal of mind to loose," he said with a laugh. We had a few good people like Saliban in research but we were held back. Administration saw only the negative side, never the advances that I made.

"You had too many casualties and too much talk," she said, taking a sip from her glass. "That is what almost destroyed us. We could have gone to prison if the whole truth had come out. You shouldn't have done that to that young girl. She was . . ."

"Benson was the one that brought it all down on us. Brought Tessloff down on us. All I did, Jaegar said, cutting her off, his eyes flashing angrily, "was open her mind and her sexuality. Is it my fault she couldn't handle what was there." He paused for a moment, the young woman gone from his thoughts, his anger growing. "Those fools listened to that stupid little worm Tessloff and his prancing little arguments. I was on the brink of the greatest discovery in the history of the human mind. Then I they confiscated my research and I had to work for a living because of that little toad. But he has only slowed me down a bit." He stopped, unable to go on, his face set in a mask of hate. Taking a deep breath, he looked out over the lake. "May God damn him to hell."

"Are you getting religion, Henrich?" she asked, smiling, swirling the wine in its glass. She always found it amusing when Henrich Jaegar slipped from his position of always being in control of himself and the situation.

He checked himself and waited a moment, letting his anger subside, driving Tessloff from his mind. He smiled, looked at her and chuckled. "I'm sure I've been called many things and equally sure that religious is not listed among them. We'll discuss business later," he said, stepping in front of her, cupping her face in his hands.

"Are we starting the weekend?" she asked, her hands running over his stomach.

Yes we are.

She kissed his growing hardness and stood up, undoing his belt as Henrich's hands deftly unbuttoned her blouse. He kissed her hard, his tongue probing deep into her warm mouth. She responded, one arm going around his neck, her hand sliding down his chest to his belt, fumbling with the buckle. Expert hands quickly removed her blouse and slid over her breasts feeing their heat, caressing their softness. They came out of their clothes and slid onto the couch, their hands wandering, playing over each others bodies, the heat building between them. His fingers gently caressed her then slid inside.

He parted her and entered, her legs wrapping around him, locking behind him as he began to slowly move in and out, she matching him thrust for thrust. As Monique roamed further into sea of pleasure Henrich lifted up and watched her face as he drove himself into her silky, steaming wetness. He raised himself on his knees slightly and changed the angle of attack to make her love button sing, grinding away until she began to moan. A string of orgasms racked her body, her claws dug into his back as he continued to hammer himself against her. He exploded inside her and she grasp him by the buttocks, her legs tightening around him. He continued pounding into her until he brought her to the second wave or orgasms and her head tossed from side to side, fingers digging into his back.

When they had spent themselves they lay in the afterglow, surrounded by the sweet smell of sex, barely breathing, their bodies locked together in the growing shadows. After several minutes Henrich stirred and kissed her. "I've got to make a phone call," he whispered in her ear. "Why don't you take a sunset swim while I take care of some business."

"Wonderful idea," she said, nibbling his ear.

Jaegar watched as she walked naked through the cypress trees to the lake, her body silhouetted against the reds, oranges and golds of the setting sun. Her moves were easy, a woman at home with herself and her sexuality. I wonder what she would say if she knew that Tessloff was in town and nosing around in my business yet again, he thought as he watched her lithe body disappearing into the water. She must not find out what or how much Tessloff knows or even that I am aware of his presence. I don't think she would approve of my plans for that little worm.

Steven Raker The Wind in the Trees

Chapter 7

Darkness had crept over the city when Charley pulled into his driveway and sat for a moment, a bad day still clinging, trying to drag him down. What Tessloff had told him churned inside. There were too many possibilities. That Tessloff was telling the truth. That he was lying. That he was telling part of the truth and still hiding something. That the truth would never be known and there would be no justice.

The interview with Nancy Stafford had not gone well. She had denied everything and said Tessloff was crazy.. Charley could see her sitting in her business suit next to a picture on the table of a young man she had said was her boyfriend. There had been dark bags underneath her eyes and she had been calm until they talked about Professor Fenton, then she had broken down and cried briefly.

When questioned about the papers and drug the twenty-four year old woman shook her head, saying that Fenton and Tessloff asked her several times to obtain drugs and papers from the institute and each time she refused. Charley had pressed her, telling her she would not be prosecuted if she had taken papers or samples though he knew that wasn't his decision. She became angry and insisted that she had turned over no drugs or information to anyone and she resented the implication that she had. She would be more than happy to meet with the police and Dr. Tessloff and him and discuss the accusations but she wanted her father's lawyer present at such a meeting and she wanted a record of the proceedings made. The attorney would also want to interview Tessloff concerning the allegations.

Charley had been surprised at the young womans knowledge of the law and it had been a short interview. Someone was lying, that was for sure. Who and how much would take time to tell. Charley walked slowly into the den, tossed his papers on the coffee table, stretched and rubbed his back, the pain a dull ache that had been reminding him of his spine all day. Megan sat at the computer in jeans and one of his old shirts, working on her homework amid a pile of papers, the woman shining through the clothes. She smiled and brushed back a wisp of her short blonde hair.

"Rough day?" she asked as he kissed her on the cheek and fell into his chair.

"Bad one," he said, his voice tired, his eyes heavy. "And it's not over."

"Long one for me too," said Megan. "Want a back rub?"

"Maybe later." The adopted alley cat Mr. Jones leapt into Charley's lap and he plopped the calico back onto the floor. Mr. Jones arched his back and rubbed against his leg. "Why do you wear my old shirts?"

"I wash, I wear. It's time for a beer, you want one?" Megan asked getting up.

"I think I'll have a scotch."

"Not too many. Remember your liver wants to live too."

"I buy, I drink," he said with a smile as she passed by. "Jim will be stopping over for a while to talk."

"The Fenton case?" Megan said from the refrigerator.

"Yeah, there have been some developments and there are some things I need to discuss with you." He dumped a handful of ice in a glass and poured himself a scotch and water, stirring with his finger. He looked at the table full of papers. She would be finished with her Bachelors Degree in another year and already there were changes in her. She was more independent. Her interests were changing. How far would the changes go? He had seen other marriages fall apart after the children had left and it gave him a feeling of helplessness to think that it might be happening to his right before his eyes. He wondered how much of his fear was perception and how much was imagination. At least she's still wearing my old shirts, he thought with some satisfaction.

Over dinner, Charley gave Megan a brief summary of his meeting with Dr. Tessloff and the allegations he was making against Dr. Jaegar without going into specific details. A deepening concern blanketed her face. He always talked about important cases with her, leaving out the details, always aware that department regulations stated you weren't supposed to discuss cases with you spouse, also aware that just about everyone on speaking terms with their spouse did so at one time or another. With a daughter in Stamford Hill University there was no chance in hell that he wouldn't speak to his family about this one. They had all been well briefed on keeping anything they heard from the police chatter the heard between visiting officers.

"I'm going to have a talk with Susan," Megan said. "I'm going to make sure she doesn't take any of his classes. And she sure as hell isn't going to take part in any psychology experiments," she said quickly.

"That's for damn sure but remember, she's in business administration and not likely to come across Jaegar. Keep in mind, this is just one man's accusation, there's nothing even resembling hard evidence that he was involved in the killings," said Charley, "though there is enough for an investigation."

"I'm a mother, not a court of law. How can you talk about law when an animal like that is loose at Susan's university. If just part of this is true I don't want her anywhere near that degenerate. I won't give her the particulars, just a serious mother-daughter talk. I can say something without saying a thing," said Megan.

Jim arrived and the two men went into the living room to give Megan the den. Charley sat heavily on the sofa and shifted his body, trying to find the most comfortable position for his back.

"Not a good day," Charley said, "I'll start from the beginning. The Fenton's daughter called the station today," he said, remembering the young woman's strained voice almost shouting her pain. "There was an engraved carving knife missing from a set of four. David Fenton made them for his wife last year for Christmas. The daughter said her mother would never loan one of them out. They weren't even allowed outside the kitchen."

"The major piece of evidence if we find it on the killer." Jim said. "It's not on the property. I had them check a fifty meter radius around the clearing and a hundred meters wide where the killer crushed the grass. If had thrown it we would have found it."

"OK. Lab report came back today," Charley said, tossing papers and photos to Jim. Charley stretched back on the couch and briefed him on the contents. The tire was believed to be from a small pickup. Forensics had supplied two photos of the tire prints with a slash in one that could have been made by sheet metal or a similar material and what looked like a roofing nail in the other tire. The gas can indentations taken from behind the bush had several deep dents in the rim and had seen some heavy use. The tire print could positively be used for identification purposes, the gas can indentations, which were in poorer soil, maybe.

"The footprints are size 12 EE width" Charley said. He's big and heavy. We might be looking for a construction worker. We've got skin samples from underneath both victims fingernails and we'll be able to do a DNA match if we have a suspect. They took a sample of the chemical from the patch. Nothing like it that could be found in the chemical files. If we find a bottle of the chemical we'll be able to match it to the chemical in the patch," Charley said, getting up to fix another drink.

When he returned Charley filled him in on the meeting with Tessloff, the government project, Tessloffs smelling of alcohol, his obvious hatred of Jaegar and possible instability. They discussed the coded papers and where they could find someone to break them. There would be no trusting Tessloff's decoding. There would be no trusting Tessloff. He tossed two brochures that Nancy had given him on the Stamford Hill Institute of Psychological Health to Jim. Jim thumbed through the brochures as Charley briefed him.

"This gets a bit heavy," Charley said. "Dr. Jaegar markets his process, called Deep Awakening, which is a type of therapy he developed. Caters to rich businessmen and women, movers and shakers. It's expensive as hell but everyone says it's great. Deep Awakening tries to remove deep-seated psychological blocks that keep a person from enjoying life by using post-hypnotic suggestions in conjunction with relaxant drugs that produces a very deep hypnosis. He seeks out blocks and problems from the past and deals with them while under hypnosis thereby saving the patient a great deal of conscious pain."

"Then he implants suggestions deep in the person's unconscious to open up and unleash their productive side, their creativity. He has five certified therapists and several in training. You must be at least a psychiatrist with five years of the used of hypnosis on patients behind you to qualify as a therapist."

"I interviewed Nancy Stafford today," Charley said, "She's the evening receptionist at the institute." She denied everything that Tessloff claimed," he said with exasperation.

"I think Nancy did what Tessloff said she did," Charley said, "but it's going to be very difficult to get it out of her. I don't think she's ever going to admit to delivering the papers and drugs and we certainly don't have enough to hold her as a material witness. She knows a crime has been committed and she's planning on staying out of jail and out of the limelight. Doesn't look good on the old resume to have it come out in a murder investigation that you steal from your boss."

"Hell, she's sandbagging us like crazy," Jim said. "I don't think we're going to get anything out of this one either."

"Not when they start talking about lawyers."

"We got the case of a lifetime here, or a crazy, drunken psychiatrist," Jim said going back to the brochure.

"Or a little bit of both," Charley said as he continuing his briefing. ****

****Charley pointed to the brochures that Nancy had given him. She was very much in favor of the work the institute was doing and thought Dr. Jaegar was helping a number of people with his therapy. She told him the story of the girl that had the nervous breakdown had been greatly exaggerated by Tessloff. She had jokingly said something to the effect that the woman looked like she had just had sex one night when she left Dr. Jaegar's office when talking to Professor Fenton and he must have taken it wrong. She said both Fenton and Tessloff had a thing about Henrich Jaegar, they seemed to feed on each others dislike of the man though Tessloff's feeling ran past hatred to something pathological.

BIG JIM BRINGS UP HAVING TO TAKE JAEGAR OUT OUTSIDE THE LAW ARGUMENT

They discussed the case for an hour then Megan came in and kissed Charley good night and went to bed. Two more hours went by and theirs was the only light still shining on the street.

"Well, Charley said, as they reached a break in their analysis, "let's call it a night. We aren't going to solve this one by staying up all night. Tomorrow we run a list of everyone in the area with a small pickup," Charley said, "and then we'll go out and have a look at some trucks, tires and owners and see if any of them look big and like they work in construction."

Charley watched Jim leave then strolled onto the front lawn and stood in the early morning stillness, looking at the star studded night. If what Tessloff said was true they had one hell of a problems and one hell of a case on their hands. MOVE TO FIRST OF CHAPTER But how much of what Tessloff said was true and how did you prove it? If Jaegar was using drugs to seduce young women that was one thing, drugging and hypnotizing people to kill was another. The papers could have come from Tessloff's computer, the drug at Fenton's was gone if it were actually a drug that she delivered. And there was the off chance that she was telling the truth and Tessloff was completely lying for some unknown reason. (shrinks not any saner than anyone else. Cops and booze and drugs shrinks and sanity.) Tessloff hated Jaegar that much was certain. And there was some type of involvement between Tessloff and the young woman from his days with his little government project. The young woman at Stamford Hill University didn't set his tic to working like the one from the past.

Charley turned the people and events over in his mind for several minutes then a chill ran through his body. Something evil this way comes, he thought and I'm going to be the one to find out the truth about it. He turned and went into the house and went to bed next to Megan laying close to her in the darkness, the case almost crawling into bed with him and his worries about his wife.

Steven Raker The Wind in the Trees

Chapter 8

Bobby Bayles bent over and shot the last nail of the day into the shingle, put the air gun down and stretched his large frame, looking out over the unfinished roofs of the construction site where the workers were collecting their tools and heading for the ladders. The day had warmed nicely from its cool beginning and the sun felt good on his bare back. There had been little free lance work for the Carpenter at Large and his brother had hooked him up with a roofing company after assurances that he wouldn't drink on the job. It was a promise Bobby had kept. There was always lunch and break when you weren't technically on the job and that worked out just fine with the ice and beer packed cooler on the pickup floor covered by a coat.

He took a beer from his tool box and poured it in his thermos and sat on the roof watching the workers walking through the dust to their trucks and cars. There wasn't a man among them that could out work him when he was in the mood. There wasn't a man there who could whip him no matter what mood he was in. Thought most of the time disagreements didn't come to a fight, his size, his eyes and his scowl could stop most men from antagonizing him.

Bobby liked construction, he enjoyed the physical labor of it. You could do your job and not be bothered by the ramrod as long as you did your job right. The foremen always treated him with respect and never yelled at him like they did some of the other workers. One had thought about it once and started in but changed his mind after Bobby got chest to face with him and glared into his eyes real hard and explained that the other foreman had told him to do it that way. His deep voice and wild eyes carried a totally different message. The foreman steered clear of him after that.

Construction was good but there were always big mouths on a construction site and that could be dangerous to his freedom. When he was younger and less in control they had made fun of him behind his back because he had a hard time reading even the most basic writing and that put the rage in him like nothing else. Other workers would sometime bring news of who was making jokes and what was said, looking to see him riled and maybe see a fight. That was what landed him in prison. He had already been to county jail for battery after beating a rich, smart mouth who had made fun of his size and station in life outside a country bar. He went to jail peaceably for six months and came out and resumed his trade. Sarah and the boys stayed with his brother while he was away.

It had been a message of someone laughing at him one winter day when he had drank too much during lunch that got him the aggravated battery conviction and landed him in state prison. He was with a crew putting up concrete forms and someone told him in front of the men how a carpenter had yet again joked about his lack of smarts to his crew and set everyone to laughing at Bobby. Bobby threw down his hammer and stormed off to find him a rage coming over him that he almost couldn't control. He found the man putting rebar in a column and slung him up against a wall and pounded his face and ribs into mush in a few short seconds. Two friends had pulled him off after he had gained some self control but the police were on the way. The first two officers on the scene had called for backup when they had seen his size and the rage still burning in the giants eyes. Bobby stripped off his shirt and backed against a wall, waiting like a cornered animal. The police stayed back until two more patrolmen arrived. A crowd of workers gathered and bets began to fly as to whether the four of them could take Bobby. The officers spread around him and one sprayed him down with mace and they moved in as Bobby covered his eyes with his shirt. The first one to touch him was hurled into another putting them both down on the ground. Bobby grabbed a third as he tried to stun gun him into submission and slammed him down too. The three officers crawled away and waited for more backup as some of the workers clapped, whistled and yelled encouragement to their carpenter Bobby Bayles. Bobby looked around at the sweat stained men, their eyes intently watching the struggle and knew they were with him. With the rage in his heart and the cheers and whistles in his head he paced back and forth and smiled and stretched and bellowed at the police, daring them to come a get him. He would fight them like a man and do his time like a man when they finally drove him down.

The police grew to eleven and five of them pushed back the crowd as six burley officers sprayed him with mace and pepper spray then went at him with clubs and stun guns. Bobby grounded two with his fists before a club slammed into his head and knocked him to his knees, the cops piling on, driving him to the ground, their stun guns stealing his strength as he disappeared beneath a wave of uniforms. It took four of them to carry the hog tied carpenter to the patrol car as the workers booed and hissed. Bobby was charged with aggravated battery, resisting arrest with violence and battery on a police officer and went down for four years. Sarah and the boys moved into the old cabin and lived on welfare with a little house cleaning on the side until his time was up.

But that was all behind him now. All he had to do was watch his temper and drinking and stay away from loudmouths and rough bars. He had also learned to stay away from the printed word lest anyone find out about his lack of reading skills and another problem come along and force him to deal with it. All a man needs to know is how to do his job, he thought as he finished his beer and went down the ladder and out to his truck.

With a beer in his lap he cashed his check and pulled out into traffic, heading toward him, feeling tired and good. The images that sometimes haunted him had faded and at last he was getting a full nights sleep on most nights though it usually took a six pack in the evening to get him to bed and keep him there. They sometimes seemed to be travelling with him, just behind or beside him but the nights were mostly for sleeping now and he didn't spend time pacing in the living room trying to see what couldn't be seen.

He had promised Sarah to drink no more than two six packs tonight and to stay home with her and the boys and drink slow. She wanted to watch TV together on the couch. He would keep his word on that too but the two six packs would be tall ones even through

He knew she would bitch. I'm a big man, he told himself, and it takes a lot of beer to quench my thirst. Work hard, drink hard, sleep hard then get up and do it all over again. That's the way it goes for a working man. He laughed, knowing that hard work was the weak link in that chain of thought. I can out work anybody if I got to but there ain't no point in killing yourself over work.

He shivered and his mind went blank for a moment as goose bumps covered his arms. A door opened deep inside and a darkness flowed into his mind, seeping into every corner, driving out thought and memory, bringing a dead calm to the giants mental world. From the darkness a voice whispered to him. There were two jobs that he must do before he could go home. Two jobs that must be done. Bobby turned down a side street and drove to a pay phone and called the room of David Tessloff, hanging up when he answered. Bobby got back in the truck ignoring his beer and drove to a shopping center near the Stamford Court Hotel where he dialed another number and roughly asked to be put through to someone. When they answered he cursed and threatened, going into a verbal rage as the person hung up. He dialed back and the secretary put him through again and again the person hung up. He called back a third time and exploded at the secretary as she told him a record of his number was in the computer and the police would be called if he called again. As he put down the phone the rage disappeared. He returned to his truck and pulled out into traffic as a brief wave of pleasure washed over him.

He drove to a friends house where he drank a beer and talked for a few minutes then got down to business. The man said within two days he would get Bobby the pump shotgun that he needed to do a little hunting but he couldn't ask where it came from and he couldn't get caught with it or there would be big trouble. Bobby laughed and said he understood. On his way out Bobby decided to keep it at the old cabin locked in his footlocker until the day he might need it. As he pulled out of the driveway a script ran through his head then the pleasure took him again at the stop sign.

Back on the highway he trembled and felt cold as the darkness left him and the door closed and he was back in the world headed toward home. He had just been to buy some tools and he would have to explain to Sarah that he had to have them for the job. That was why they would be a little short on money this week. Bobby stopped at a discount store and picked up a small stuffed bear for his youngest. He had been whining for one to match his brother's. That would keep Sarah off his back about the beer most likely, he thought as he headed toward home. She liked it when he brought things home for the kids and the kids could play with their bears in their room while he watched a little TV with Sarah and downed a few suds.

Bobby stepped into the house with the bear behind his back as his youngest excitedly told his mother about what he had learned in his 1st grade reader while the oldest lay on the old couch with his bear, watching cartoons. They fell silent as he came in, waiting to see what kind of mood he was in. Sarah's eyes went to the two six packs and she gave him a hard look. Bobby ruffled the hair of his oldest and stood behind his youngest as Sarah watched.

"You learning to read good, boy," Bobby said, looking down at him. The boy tilted his head back to look up at him and nodded. "I picked up a hitchhiker who was looking for a home today," Bobby said, "maybe you could help me find him someplace around here to live. Might even stay here with us if somebody would look after him." He set the bear down on the boys lap and stood back and smiled as he squealed, The older brother ran over to see what the commotion was about. Sarah smiled as the boy hugged the bear to his chest. Bobby slipped the beer in the refrigerator then turned to the boys, "Now git to your room and let them two bears get to know each other and you think up a name for that bear, you hear." The boys ran down the hall with their bears and disappeared into their room.

Bobby turned to Sarah. "I bought tall ones cause I though you might have a beer or two with me tonight and watch a little TV," he said, putting his arm around her, "and we could see what pops up."

Sarah smiled. "I guess I could have one or two," she said as she got some hamburger out for dinner.

Bobby turned on the TV and took his place on the couch, drinking beer until dinner was ready. The bears ate with the boys. Sarah put the children to bed early and they sat on the worn couch in the glow of the TV, his arm around her, drinking beer and snacking on pretzels until Sarah fell asleep against his broad chest and Bobby finally dropped into slumber. He awoke in the early hours of the morning, the images bringing him abruptly awake, fleeing as he realized they were there. Bobby drove the feelings that they always brought from his mind and softly slipped his arm from around her, gathered the tiny woman in his arms and carried her to their bed and lay down beside her in his clothes and slept for the rest of the night.

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