Paradox (FBI Thriller 22)

Sala said, “Yes, we’ve been busy. We have a lot to nail down before we make any announcements.”

She understood immediately and nodded. “Fair enough. There are ears everywhere, everyone would know everything.”

They heard voices, turned as the door opened again. “Ah, here’s Dr. Hicks,” Sala said, “and Agents Savich and Sherlock.”

Leigh looked up at a tall man with beautiful dark eyes, kind eyes, eyes that saw a great deal. She said to him, “When Agent Savich called me a little while ago, he told me you impersonate Elvis and you’re really good.”

“That I do, Ms. Saks.” He studied her face as he shook her hand, careful of the IV in her wrist. “For someone who had surgery such a short time ago, you look fit as my guitar.”

“As fit as a 1956 Gibson J-200?”

Dr. Hicks grinned like a schoolboy. “Actually, a Martin D-18 is my preference. Did you know Elvis purchased that same fine instrument in Memphis in ’55?”

“I didn’t know that. Will you send me tickets to your next performance?”

“You can be sure I will. Are you ready to proceed, Ms. Saks? It’s painless, I promise you.”

“Please, Dr. Hicks, call me Leigh, particularly if you’re going to go dumpster-diving in my brain.”

He was charmed. “I’ve never heard what I do described in quite that way before. But you don’t seem at all worried, and let me reiterate you don’t need to be. I know you still have some pain, Leigh—”

She waved that off. “Only a bit, Dr. Hicks. The meds help dial it down if I need them.”

“Very well. I can help you with that later myself. I understand, Leigh, you’ve been through a great deal. Agent Savich has filled me in. You understand your surgeon, Dr. Ellis, thinks you had a seizure disorder for a very long time, and it’s under control now? Does that worry you?”

“Yes, both Dr. Ellis and Mom told me. All I really know is I’m different now, Dr. Hicks, but I’m very happy about it. Ecstatic, really, and no, I’m not worried at all. I know I’ll keep my new self.”

Dr. Hicks looked into her very pretty eyes and saw intelligence shine out at him. And humor. The truth was, he didn’t know if Dr. Ellis was right about the seizures. He rather would like to believe her transformation was a miracle. He believed in miracles. He smiled at her. “I can’t wait to see what’s inside your head.”

“I think a lot of folk would also like to know that. Onward, Dr. Hicks.”

“Very well. What I want you to do, Leigh, is simply relax that busy mind of yours, and then Agent Savich will ask you some questions.” Dr. Hicks pulled out the shiny gold watch that had belonged to his grandfather. “Look at the watch, nothing more, and relax. All you have to do is listen to my voice and look at the watch. Let your mind empty and float away, into my voice, all right?”

“I’ll try, but it might take a while. My brain is so full, so many ideas, so many questions.”

He only nodded. Leigh began to follow the movement of the swinging gold watch, wanting to laugh at the silly thing that was supposed to empty her brain into the ether. Then, without warning, she began to feel warmer. The world became smaller until it was only the gold watch swinging in front of her and there was only her and Dr. Hicks. She yielded herself to it.

Dr. Hicks nodded to Lulie and said to Savich, “She’s under and very quickly, too. I find creative people are a treat to hypnotize.” He looked back at Leigh’s mother. “Does she sing or paint? Something like that?”

Lulie slowly shook her head. “No, but she always loved books, all kinds of books in the house, even though I knew she never understood much. Still, she’d go cover to cover. Maybe it was the words themselves that fascinated her. Not the pictures, most of the books didn’t have pictures. I read to her every night.” She shook her head. “And she knew about Elvis’s guitars? I remember I went through an Elvis phase, had all sorts of books about him around the house. She was very small, but I’d see her turning each page slowly, studying them. There were pictures, so that’s what I thought she was looking at.”

Leigh must have taken in a lot of those words, and now, perhaps, she had a deep reservoir of knowledge to draw on. Hicks said, “Tell me, Leigh, do you remember when you first read about Elvis and his guitars?”

“Elvis,” she repeated slowly. “I was a little girl. Mama was humming one of his songs, ‘Heartbreak Hotel,’ I think, and we were dancing. She had lots of books about Elvis. I remember I read all of them—well, looked at all of them.”

“You obviously did more than look. Now, our first order of business—you will have no more pain in your head.”

She looked perplexed, then in the next moment, she looked quite pleased. “No, there’s no more pain. Thank you. It’s very nice. It’s tough being brave, but I hated seeing Mama so scared for me.”

“You don’t have to be brave anymore, Leigh. Your mother’s not scared now.” Dr. Hicks nodded to Savich.

Savich leaned close. “I’m glad you feel good now, Leigh.”

“I feel better than good, Agent Savich.”

“I would like you to go back five years and revisit Henry LaRoque, the day you took a birthday cake to him.”

“All right.”