Veil

Chapter 27

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Veil stared through the glass partition built into the wall of the Army hospital room at the still figure of Sharon, who was dressed in a lacy, blue nightgown Veil had bought for her. On a table next to her bed, bellows attached to an oxygen tent rose and fell in perfect, mindless rhythm. Needles slipped into her veins carried nourishment—and the Lazarus Gate drug mixture—into her system and carried away waste. Electrodes attached to her body recorded her heartbeat, as well as a brain-wave pattern that indicated to Veil that Sharon was still somewhere beyond the Lazarus Gate, wandering alone in the gray mist where he had lost her. On her face was the same expression of rapture and longing that Veil had seen in the hospital clinic.

"I haven't had a chance to thank you for bailing me out of the Army compound," Veil said in a flat voice. "I'm thanking you now."

Orville Madison grunted as he lit a cigar, ignoring the NO SMOKING sign posted in the small observers' gallery outside Sharon's room. "You know better than to thank me, Kendry. You're mine to kill, if and when I choose to, not the Army's. I was just protecting my prerogatives."

"Yeah? Well, I'm here to tell you that you shaved this particular prerogative pretty close. How the hell did you think I was going to get out of the compound itself?"

"Funny thing about that; there was never any doubt in my mind that you'd find a way. What's the matter? Age catching up with you?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. You don't look so hot yourself. You're even fatter than when I last saw you, and that stupid toupee you're wearing looks like shit."

"How did this Pilgrim fellow get my name?"

"It's a mystery."

Madison turned his head and squinted at Veil. "Is it?"

"Very much so."

"Pilgrim gave me some background on the phone, but I still need the answers to a lot of questions. Now that you're up and about, will you talk to me?"

Veil shifted his left arm to a more comfortable position in its sling. "What do you want to know?"

"What the hell was Ibber doing trying to blow up a hospice and blow away a bunch of ex-stiffs and future stiffs?"

"He didn't want anyone else to know what Jonathan and Sharon had discovered, and he couldn't be certain how many others did know. His solution was to kill everyone."

Madison puffed slowly on his cigar, feigning boredom and indifference, but the sudden tightness in his voice betrayed him. "What was it they discovered?"

"That there's a state of consciousness, a fleeting moment, some men and women experience as they approach death when minds merge."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"You want me to say it again?"

"I heard what you said; I want to know what you mean. It sounds like you're saying that dying people, if they're dead enough, can communicate with each other." "You've got it. Except that the people doing the communicating have to be dying together, and they have to reach this precise state of consciousness at precisely the same time— or close to it."

"You're bullshitting me, Kendry."

With the aid of his cane Veil shuffled around until he was squarely facing the other men. "No. It's the truth, Madison. Now you know more than Ibber actually knew. He only suspected it, and that was enough to make him do what he did."

"There must be more."

"Ibber also suspected that you could stretch out, or freeze, that moment. He was right." Veil nodded toward the figure on the other side of the glass. "That's what happens."

Madison's eyes had narrowed to slits. "You're trying to tell me that a KGB agent who'd penetrated a top command post of the United States Army then proceeded to throw it all away because he wanted to start a vegetable patch?"

Veil winced inwardly; the other man hadn't changed. "He didn't know that would happen; nobody knew at the time Sharon attempted it. He just wanted to make certain that we couldn't use any of this information militarily."

"Is there any way we can use it militarily?"

"Ibber thought so."

"Do you think so?"

"No."

"Where can I get a second opinion?"

"Try the Russians."

"Come on, Kendry. You owe me."

Again, Veil nodded toward Sharon. "If she ever comes out of the coma, she'd be a good person to ask. Or you can talk to other scientists doing near-death research. Hell, have the CIA start its own hospice and see what you can find out."

"Why do I have the strong feeling that you're hiding something?"

"I don't know. Do I sound or act as if I'm hiding something?"

"No," Madison finally said after a long pause. "What were you doing over in the Army compound in the first place? Pilgrim never got around to explaining that to me."

Veil smiled, then grimaced as the wires in his jaw cut into his gums. "You think I'm working for somebody?"

"Unless you've got a double, I know you're not. That doesn't answer my question."

"Ibber was afraid I might be working for you people—and that's no joke. He sent an assassin after me the morning after I arrived. I was over there trying to find out why."

Madison dropped his cigar on the floor and ground it out with the toe of his shoe. "Shit," he said dispassionately. "What a waste of time."

"Yeah."

"If I'd known this was all there was to it, I might have decided to let Ibber kill you."

"You were always a prince, Madison."

"Can you believe that I'm still pissed at you after all these years? I've got pins in both my collarbones, and they hurt like hell when it rains or snows. Also, I'd probably be top man in Operations if I hadn't lost four years making up the ground you'd shoveled out from under me."

"Madison," Veil said evenly, "I have a personal favor to ask of you."

"Do you, now. What is it?"

"I want you to take this woman out of here and put her in one of your facilities at Langley—under your absolute control and personal supervision. I'm sure she must have family, but I don't know who, or where, they are. Your people will take care of notification and make up some kind of story about why she has to be where she is. I want the absolute best for her— twice-daily massage, the works. I want her to keep looking beautiful."

"Is that all?" Madison asked, making no effort to mask his sarcasm.

"No, it isn't. You keep her in exactly the state she's in now, unless I say differently."

"Unless you say differently?"

"If I give the word, you see to it that somebody pulls the plug; you let her die—but only if I give the word."

Madison studied Veil for some time. "You still have a taste for playing God, don't you?" he said at last.

"I love her," Veil replied simply. "Also, I need time to think. In the meantime I have to know that her body, at least, is safe."

"What you're asking could end up costing the taxpayers of this nation a lot of bucks. Hell, we could keep her alive for years."

"You don't give a damn about the change in your pocket, what's more anything you do at taxpayers' expense."

"So what? Why should I do anything for you?"

"I want you to do it for the woman."

"Why should I do it for the woman?"

"Because Veil Kendry is humbling himself to ask you—and that has to give you one hell of a lot of personal satisfaction."

"It does, but that's not enough. The answer is no."

"I took care of Ibber for you. If it weren't for me, that bastard would still be sending our secrets back to Mother Russia."

"What do you want to do, close down the spy industry? Your kind of thinking could cost me my job."

"I answered your questions freely, told you what you wanted to know. I could have held out and I didn't."

"Big deal."

"Madison, for chrissake, you want me to beg? I'm begging. If I weren't stuck in all this plaster. I'd get down on my knees."

"That would be an amusing sight, but I have a better idea," Madison said casually as he lit a fresh cigar. He studied the flame at the end of the match as if there were some secret message in it. "Work for me."

"No."

"Take care of yourself, Kendry," Madison said, and blew out the match. Then he turned and headed down the corridor.

"Madison!" Veil waited as the man stopped, slowly turned. Then Veil nodded his head. It felt as if the back of his neck were being seared with a blowtorch, but he knew that the pain was only in his mind. "All right." "What if you call me up tomorrow and tell me to kill her?"

"Our deal still stands; you own me. You have my word."

"I'll accept that any day."

"Special assignments only."

"Sure. Did you think I was going to send Veil Kendry out to make nasty faces at Castro?"

"I mean that I have approval over any assignment. If I don't like it, I don't do it."

"Jesus Christ, you still believe that there are good guys and bad guys, don't you?"

"Give it to me, Madison."

After a long pause Madison finally nodded and smiled. The smile didn't touch his eyes. "Why not? Far be it from me to ask you to do something you didn't approve of. Good grief."

"In the meantime I keep doing what I'm doing now. Except for when you want me."

"Oh, I insist; it's a great cover. Anything else?"

"No."

Madison laughed loudly. "Damn, Kendry, you are one hell of a negotiator. Thank God the State Department didn't get to you first." He casually waved his cigar in the direction of the room beyond the glass. "Don't worry about Sleeping Beauty. I'll have her safely tucked away in her new bedroom by dinnertime."

And all he had given away was his soul, Veil thought as he watched Madison, trailing blue smoke, disappear around a bend in the corridor. Finally Madison had what he had always wanted.

It had been quite a barter.

But then, Veil thought as he leaned his head against the glass, he had what he wanted. Already his entire attention was drifting to Sharon—now, quite literally, the woman of his dreams.

He was tired, ready to sleep.