Veil

Chapter 5

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Where did you learn to use your hands like that, Kendry?"

"I don't know what you mean, Lieutenant."

"You tore away a man's throat with your bare hands."

"That's ridiculous, Lieutenant. I don't even have long fingernails."

"Don't be a fucking wise-ass! You did it! I want to know where you learned how to do it."

"I pushed him away from me," Veil replied quietly. "He tripped and caught his throat on the sharp edge of the locker. It was a freak accident."

"Do you expect me to believe that story?"

"It's true."

"You're not going to like it much if I decide to book you on a murder charge."

"I didn't like it much when that man tried to rob me."

"Tell me again what happened."

"I'd worked out in the weight room and taken a swim. I was getting dressed when this man came up. He swung those ankle weights in my face and demanded my wallet."

"The man was naked, Kendry. Have you ever heard of a naked mugger?"

"Come on, Lieutenant. This happened in a locker room. Obviously, the man was on his way to take a swim. He noticed me coming out of the pool and figured I was an easy mark."

"You don't look like an easy mark to me, Kendry. As a matter of fact, you look pretty damn solid."

"He had the weights. He said he was going to smash in my face if I didn't give him the wallet."

The man questioning him snorted with disgust and looked away. Veil relaxed slightly and glanced around the room. There were three men with him in the small reception area outside the director's office. His interrogator had been introduced to him as Lieutenant Parker. Parker was a lean, hard man whom Veil judged to be in his mid-fifties. His close-cropped, iron-gray hair matched the color of his eyes. He kept toying with a pencil and yellow pad set squarely in front of him on a secretary's desk, but he had yet to write anything down. There was an almost palpable air of suspicion and disbelief about the man, but he did not seem able to mount a sustained verbal attack. It struck him that Parker badly wanted to pursue a different line of questioning, but for some reason felt constrained from doing so.

Dr. Henry Ibber, the Institute's chief investigator and the man who had conducted Veil's intake interview, stood leaning against the wall just behind Parker. Dressed in brown slacks, black turtleneck, and rust-colored tweed jacket, the physician seemed almost as nervous as Parker. Prematurely bald with a droopy mustache that framed thin lips, Ibber kept shifting his weight from one foot to the other as his dark eyes darted about the room. Veil judged the man to be in his early thirties, and tougher than he looked.

Only Jonathan Pilgrim seemed at ease. The director was slouched in a leather armchair at the far corner of the room, his booted feet propped up on a coffee table. He was smoking one of his thin cigars and staring up through a haze of blue-gray smoke at the ceiling. Pilgrim's demeanor seemed to Veil somewhat bizarre under the circumstances. Like a magnet, the slouched figure kept drawing annoyed glances from Parker.

"Am I boring you, Colonel?!" Parker snapped. "A man's been killed!"

"That's certainly true," Pilgrim replied in a mild tone, "and I'm certainly glad it wasn't Mr. Kendry." Pilgrim slowly swung his feet to the floor, straightened up, and ground out his cigar. When he looked up, there was a hard glint in his eye. "I think you're being overzealous, Lieutenant. Dr. Ibber and I have told you that the dead man was one of our cooks. When they're off duty, our staff enjoys the privilege of using the recreational facilities. It looks like we hired ourselves a bad apple. It happens. Also, it does seem unlikely that an artist could tear out another man's throat with his bare hands, doesn't it? So, why the hassle?"

Blood rushed to Parker's face, and for a moment Veil thought the man would pound the desk. They gray-haired man swallowed hard, brought himself back under control. "All right, Kendry," he said at last, his voice gravelly with frustration.

Veil met the other man's hostile gaze. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that I know where to find you if I have any more questions."

Pilgrim abruptly rose to his feet. "Sorry for the trouble, Kendry. Are you certain you feel all right?"

Veil nodded.

"Good luck to you," Pilgrim continued brusquely as he walked across the reception area, opened a door, and disappeared into his office.

The director had left the door to his office open, and Veil had a clear, if restricted, view of the interior. A modern glass-and-steel desk was visible, and on the wall behind the desk a map on a spring roller had been pulled down. The map appeared to be a larger version of the one printed in the Institute brochures, except that it included two huge gray areas, each at least half again the size of the "official" compound. One area was on the northern face of an adjacent mountain, and the second was at the eastern end of the valley running between the two mountains. Neither area was labeled.

A moment later his view was blocked as Henry Ibber moved quickly across the room and pushed the door shut. Parker, red-faced and seething, rose and walked stiffly out the door. Veil glanced inquiringly at Ibber, who seemed embarrassed.

"Kendry," Ibber said tightly, "this is an uncomfortable situation for both the Colonel and me."

Veil smiled thinly. "I think I'm about to have my invitation withdrawn."

Ibber took a deep breath as he thrust his hands into the pockets of his tweed jacket. "Even though you seem perfectly collected, a traumatic experience like the one you've just had can't help but leave deep and disturbing emotional overtones which may be with you for some time. Under the circumstances, it would be impossible for us to properly conduct the kinds of tests we'd planned for you. I hope you understand."

Veil gave a slight shrug, rose to his feet. "Sure. Keeping me around might cause some deep and disturbing emotional overtones in the other guests, not to mention your ex-cook's buddies."

"That isn't the point, Mr. Kendry, I assure you. In fact, we'd like to reschedule you for another session, perhaps in six months or so."

"I'll look forward to it."

Ibber smiled uncertainly. "There's no need for you to leave right away. Why don't you stay the night? In the morning someone can take you to the airport in the helicopter. We'll drop off your rented car." "I think not. I'd just as soon fly out tonight, and I prefer to drive myself."

"As you wish."

Veil stared hard at the other man for a few moments, until Ibber averted his eyes. "I know my way to the garage," he said as he headed for the door. "Nice meeting you, Ibber. Tell the Colonel I said good-bye."