Sliding my key into the lock, I pushed the door open to find Spyder waiting for me in my living room. “An eventful night, Lexicon.”
“Yes, it was. Why was the FBI on scene?”
“The Darkweb addresses turned out to be a plethora of information about illegal arms trade with Al-Qaeda operators. Hanasal was involved in terrorist activity. We wished we could have him under arrest for interrogation. But destiny cannot be thwarted. You helped that along.”
I nodded. I thought I’d feel more fulfilled than I did. Lighter. I thought if Hanasal had died, that some kind of burden would be off my shoulders. But I felt just as bad this morning as I did yesterday morning—as I did every morning since Dad was killed.
“My dear, keeping your eyes closed. I wish to ask you if I may use hypnotism.”
“Why is that, Spyder?”
“I have latched onto your phrases, ‘I wanted to feel triumphant. But my little victory dance felt like a farce. I slunk back to my apartment, feeling oddly defeated.’ There is something rich there. Some piece of information that your mind knows but is hiding from you. I wish to explore it, if I may.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Hypnotism was a technique that Spyder and I had used frequently. As he moved his chair over to the couch where I lay, I followed his instructions into a trance.
“Find the place and time that will give you the most information,” Spyder instructed.
I was back at the funeral. Back in the mud. Spyder carried my mother. I held the umbrella. Her wheelchair was lifted from the mud and was being carried just behind me. I described the scene to Spyder.
“And what did I do?”
“You put my mom in the back seat. There was a pillow there, and she clutched it to her stomach. It took a moment to get her to be aware enough that she released the pillow for you to put on her safety belt.”
“Continue.”
“A hand reached toward me, ‘May I have the keys? I’ll put the chair in the trunk.’”
“Do you recognize the voice?”
Did I recognize the voice…?
“Go back in time and listen to the voice asking for the keys again.”
I nodded.
“Do you recognize the voice?”
“I do.”
“Who is it?”
I shook my head.
“Move to a time where you can see the person who has that voice. Tell me when you’re there.”
“There.”
“Where are you?”
“CIA headquarters with Striker. We’re leaving a meeting about DNA art.”
“When is this?”
“Thursday as Striker and I were leaving Langley.”
“Who was it?”
“Seth Toone.”
“The name of the man who carried your mother’s wheelchair was Seth Toone. He worked closely with your father at the CIA. And since your father’s job was clandestine, he was the only representative for the CIA at the funeral.”
“Ah.”
“Which doesn’t resolve the question.”
“No.”
“Go back to a time and place that will give you the most information. Tell me when you’re there.”
“There.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at my father’s crash.”
“What do you see?”
“Hanasal is getting out of the passenger’s side of his car. He’s stumbling toward the tree line. Places his hand on the trunk. Is vomiting.”
“What do you need to see, but your brain is afraid to show you?”
“Hanasal gets out of the passenger side… I’m in a fog, thick enough to slice. I couldn’t see anything.”
“Bring in a device. What could dispel the fog?”
“A sun gun.”
“Use it.”
“I’m picturing myself with a water squirter beaming out rays of sun, burning through the mist. A man got out of the car’s driver’s side. He shook himself off. Looked at me where I was crawling from the window onto the road. He turns and walks away.”
“Zoom in on the man’s face. Do you recognize him?”
“Yes, it’s the guy Seth from the CIA.”
There was a long pause.
“I was with Seth Toone the night of your father’s death. We were on a mission. He was not there.”
“Then my brain must be conflating the two images.”
“Not necessarily. No. Not necessarily at all. This is taking an unexpected turn, Lexicon. Let us close this session so we might speak. You are deep in a meditative state. As you rise back to the surface of consciousness, you will bring all of your memories with you. Stress is removed from these pictures. They are in the past, and they now serve as vehicles of information. That is all they are, pieces of information. There is no reason for old wounds to open, old pain to be revisited. You step up from ten to nine, eight, seven, anxiety and pain are left behind as you climb back to the here and now. Six, five, four. You are starting to feel your body in present time and space—your feet on the arm of your sofa, your sits bones on the cushion, your back flat against the fabric. Three. You have weight and take up space. You are back in the room. Two. Your eyes are fluttering. You take in a deep breath, still comfortable, still just receiving facts that do not attach to emotion. One. You are fully present, solid in your body.”
I blinked at Spyder, giving myself a moment.
Spyder sat patiently to my side, no pressure, no rush.
In Spyder’s philosophy, we are given bodies. Our bodies are alive to learn lessons. We are destined to repeat our lessons until we learn our lesson, which does not bring us anything but new lessons. Circular.
There is no better ‘here’ than
