Chapter 27
London House... Hours later
"Thank you, Dr. Sigenthaler. Your testimony has been most enlightening. Thank you for staying up into the wee hours of tomorrow for us." As the image of the neatly beared man faded, Franklin Cross turned away from the plasma screen to once again face the Council. "The lights, please, Miss Webster," he said to his secretary.
"The shutters as well, madam," added Loxley Millard. "I don't think we need them closed any longer. The sun's long since gone. Please, continue Mr. Cross."
The Scotsman gave a small nod toward the Council's President, then began, "Dr. Sigenthaler recognized that his discussion of the fantasy of parallel universes might be somewhat overwhelming to us laymen. Therefore, he was kind enough to fax us his paper, Physics or Metaphysics: Human Perception vs. Einstein's Reality
, which rebutted the theory at last year's International Symposium of Physics... and, he graciously, included an addendum, which is an informal layman's explanation of the text."Miss Webster will be handing out that packet along with a second envelope containing two articles, which discuss delusions and mental anomalies that may occur during coma and other abnormal states of consciousness, including those produced by hallucinogens and physical trauma. The author of those papers, Dr. Misha Kolknikov, is a neurosurgeon affiliated with Johns Hopkins in the States and is considered a leading expert in the field of brain pathology and injury.
"Unfortunately, due to an urgent surgery, scheduled to last some twenty hours, he was unable to join us by video-link. Should the Council desire, he will make himself available at a future date. In the meantime, he said that he could add very little to the articles, one of which will appear in an upcoming issue of JAMA. The other is a layman's interpretation of the same article as it will appear in a more popular magazine."
"Excuse me.... I object to this!" Sloan interrupted, rising to his feet with the envelopes in his hand. "This presentation of magazine articles and conference orations as evidence is a travesty of the tribunal process... and if it's all such a 'fantasy'... then tell me where in the hell I was for two years, while Cross, here, was consoling my wife."
"A thought comes to mind, Sloan...," the Chief Investigator retorted.
"Relax, Mr. Sloan," said Loxley Millard. "If such evidence hampers anyone's case, it is Mr. Cross'. You will have ample opportunity to present rebuttal witnesses and evidence... in any form you wish. Might I remind you that we are not a Queen's Court... nor a US Court of Law... and any personal animosities you two share belong outside of this chamber."
"Thank you, Sir James," said the Scotsman, with a smirk cast in Sloan's direction. "My next witness is Dr. Rachel Corrigan, who will also join us by video-link from the San Francisco House, where she is on duty... alone."
"I protest!" Sloan again leapt to his feet.
"On what grounds this time, Mr. Sloan?" the Loxley Millard demanded. "By virtue of both her profession and as a member of Derek Rayne's House, Dr. Corrigan is eminently suited to give evidence to this tribunal."
"Maybe...," the former Ruling Precept countered. "I see two rather obvious problems. First, it is well known that Derek and Rachel... Dr. Corrigan... have an adversarial relationship.... So, I hardly see how she can be unbiased.... Secondly, she is and has been for several years, Dr. Rayne's physician of record.... Therefore, any evidence she might give falls under patient-physician confidentiality."
"I think you can leave that judgement to this tribunal, Mr. Sloan.... We are not unintelligent people," Loxley Millard responded peevishly. "And... as I reminded you... Legacy regulations govern Legacy members regardless of local law.... Besides, Dr. Corrigan holds a seat on the Board of Directors of the Luna Foundation and may testify to her fellow Directors the rectitude of our proceedings. Get on with it, Mr. Cross."
As the lights dimmed, the Council members once more shuffled round in their chairs to turn towards the plasma screen at the end of the room.
"Dr. Corrigan," said Cross, looking towards a small camera. "I shan't keep you long.... I know that you're a working mother... and that you have to balance your psychiatric practice with your Legacy duties... and, at the moment, you are bearing the entire burden of your House."
Nervously, sweeping her hair back from her face, Rachel smiled at the group she knew to be assembled. "I assure you that, right now, these proceedings are my first priority."
For the first time, the Ruling Precept spoke. "Excuse me... Dr. Corrigan.... This is Clare Spencer.... Since you were not present for the opening statement.... You understand that the purpose of this tribunal is to establish not only Dr. Rayne's competency to continue as a Legacy precept... but to also determine whether or not we will issue a declaration of 'mental incompetency due to insanity or demonic possession'." She paused momentarily to clear a huskiness from her throat. "Which will mean...." Again she paused... for a sip of water... then continued. "Which will mean Dr. Rayne's committal to Wells Ward or some other high security facility for the remainder of his life... and that, in turn, will dictate our further actions pertaining to the Luna Foundation."
Sloan had noted how difficult it had been for Clare to make her statement.... So... old affections had survived.
"I understand," Rachel replied sadly, but firmly. "You must all realize that I've not seen Derek for several months.... I really cannot comment on his current medical condition."
"Yes...," Cross interrupted to again take the lead, "...but you are ideally placed to give us your opinion of his behavior over the last few years.... Now... if I may... I'd like to refer to the incident... at Christmas in 1996... when Dr. Rayne convinced you... and the other members of his House that your daughter, Katherine, had been taken to the 'Other Side'.... When... and I quote from your journal, 'After Derek had whipped up a nice, little case of mass hysteria, Kat was found safe and sound in the cellar of the House.' Do you recall? Would you please elaborate."
"Yes... I remember the incident," Rachel sighed. "Derek had managed to convince us all that Kat was in grave danger... when nothing could have been further from the truth."
"In your opinion," Cross asked, "is Dr. Rayne blinkered in his approach?... So much so that he sees a Darkside plot in everything... almost to the point of paranoia?"
"Paranoia?" Rachel repeated, carefully considering her reply. "Well... uhhh... that's going a bit too far.... Derek does have a problem accepting rational explanations to events.... He's convinced that the supernatural explanation is the only option... instead of considering it only when all other normal possibilities have been ruled out."
"I see.... He puts the cart before the horse," the Chief Investigator commented, allowing his Scottish burr to color the idiom. "I believe that Dr. Rayne consulted you... during an incident with an ancient scroll, which he had rather naively accepted as a gift from a man who was his sworn enemy."
"Yes.... Randolph Hitchcock.... Look." The psychiatrist hesitated. "I'm not comfortable discussing this incident specifically.... It could be seen as breach of patient-doctor confidentiality."
"Pardon me, then," Cross apologized. "But... as far back as... 1996... Dr. Rayne was seeking professional psychiatric advice?"
"In a manner of speaking... yes," Rachel admitted. "I was there.... We talked."
"I see.... I'll move on to another incident," said Cross. His calm tones concealed frustration. His witness was not exactly giving him what he'd hoped for. "I'd like you to recall the time when you first met Dr. Rayne... in Ireland... whilst he was searching for the last sepulchre. He made a grave error that cost Julia Walker her life, then, I believe, he actually abducted you and your daughter... then took you both without your consent to Angel Island, where he kept you confined against your will."
"Yes.... That's correct," she replied, then paused, uncertain of how to continue. "Derek has a very paternalistic approach to everyone... except men his own age or older.... He thinks he knows what's best for everyone... and he acts on it."
"And was that behavior indicative of Dr. Rayne?"
"I'm afraid so.... Derek has a strong, dominant personality.... He's the perfect 'alpha male', if you will. He doesn't like to be challenged by someone with equally strong convictions. I'm sure you've all seen that." She paused again to contemplate her response. "I'm sorry.... It's difficult.... I don't want to be misunderstood.... He's very much the product of his upbringing. Winston Rayne was a hard man, who instilled in his son an overwhelming sense of personal responsibility... about everything... and that trait combines with a rather arrogant attitude of complete and utter faith in his own opinions."
"Come on, Rachel," Sloan interrupted, stepping round the table and into the camera's view. His tone was of annoyed frustration. "You'd been raped by a demon and gave birth to a fallen angel.... For God's sake, wasn't Derek right to behave as he did? He got you to Angel Island... a secure place where he could try to isolate the situation. Why do you persist in this overly zealous denial of the paranormal... or is it only denial where Derek's concerned?"
"I don't deny the paranormal, William," she replied, looking directly at the man who was half a world away. "I merely seek to rule out all other explanations first... as all Legacy members should... and what, above all, a precept should do.... But the rational is often the last explanation that Derek considers!... And while we're at it... he didn't isolate the situation.... He took us and the fifth sepulchre right to the very place where the Darkside wanted it and us to be... where the other sepulchres... and their keys could all be reunited... together with the monster that was growing inside me. If anything, because of his obsession with the sepulchres, he made the situation worse."
"Thank you, Doctor," the Scotsman sharply interrupted, looking around at the faces of his colleagues. That was the perfect place to cut the woman's testimony. One more word would lessen the impact. "If you would, please... Dr. Corrigan... hold yourself available for Mr. Sloan's presentation...."
"Pardon me," the Vicomte de Foix raised his hand and gestured for the camera to be turned towards him. "I'd like to ask the witness a question.... I believe that is permissible, is it not?"
Loxley Millard sighed. "I hope he's not going to ask her for a 'private consultation'," he whispered archly to Clare, who sat at his right and said nothing in reply. "I can't imagine what might be floating around in that mildewed brain." He then turned towards de Foix and loudly stated, "Please, proceed, sir."
"Dr. Corrigan," said the nobleman. The words emerged high and croaky. He cleared his throat, lowered his voice, and tried again. "Dr. Corrigan... you seem to paint a dark picture of your time at the San Francisco Legacy House.... Are you saying that you would not wish to continue if Dr. Rayne were, by some miracle, once more restored to his position?"
"Oh, my... no." Rachel's eyes grew wide with surprise as she anxiously looked off camera. "I didn't intend to give that impression at all." She sighed deeply. "OK... Derek is an arrogant, opinionated SOB... but I've had the same said of me.... He's saved my life... and Kat's... more than once. I don't always agree with his decisions and I have my doubts about some of his personality traits... the childhood events that maybe produced them.... I've often heard it said that there is a fine line between genius and madness.
"But, fundamentally, he's fine man.... He's brave... committed.... He's the Crusader in constant battle with the Darkside. I would be honored to continue as a member of his House, because I have the function of being the opposite side of the coin. I'm the stabilizer and the voice of reason.... He's the passion... and the obstinance... and the one with 'the Sight'."
< < + > >
Ian Kincaid restlessly circled the reception area of the exclusive "club," known to outside world as the London Club, which was in reality the Legacy's Ruling House. He was not allowed to enter beyond the public rooms until Cross called him to give evidence, and then he would have a "goon" to guard him.
"What do the idiots think I'll do?" he wondered aloud... blow them up? "That might not be a bad idea," he reconsidered.
At that moment a series of small, sharp bangs resurrected old reactions. He spun about, reaching for a pistol that was not to be found beneath his jacket. "Dammit!" he muttered.
Through the broad front window, that looked out onto Pall Mall, he saw a shower of gold and red stars brighten the dark sky above the Athenaeum. He relaxed. "Idiot... yourself... Ian.... It's Bonfire Night.... 'Remember... remember the Fifth of November,'" Ian recited. "'Gunpowder, treason, and plot.' How apt that those bastards chose tonight to shaft Derek."
He sat down in one of the leather easy chairs to enjoy the free fireworks show. "Are we celebrating Guy Fawkes' attempt to blow up Parliament in 1606," he mused, "or lamenting the fact that it failed?"
"Sir...."
Caught off guard, Kincaid looked up in surprise. "Carter... what the hell are you doing here?" he angrily demanded. Surely to God... Carter hadn't betrayed him... and Derek.
"He drove me." A gentle, Dutch accented voice spoke from behind.
Ian sprang to his feet and whirled around in utter confusion. "Derek!... What... I don't understand.... How?"
The precept's eyebrow rose above his left eye and an amused half-smile flitted across his lips. "Ian... do close your mouth.... As my mother used to say... 'you'll catch flies'... and sit down before you fall down. You're white as a ghost," he said, pushing his friend back down into the chair. "Carter, here, decided I wasn't up to driving myself, so he came with me."
"Never mind that!... How?... When?"
"Did I rejoin this happy band of brothers?... Very early this morning... and I had one hell of a time convincing your Mr. Carter that I was fine." Derek smiled again at his baffled friend. "I am fine.... I'll explain later... as much as I can.
"But right now, I seem to have a little local difficulty to resolve here... with the Council. While I'm taking care that, will you do me a favor?" Derek asked.
"Of course," Kincaid responded, still confused.
"Will you take care of some things for me?" Derek placed a folded note in his friend's hand. "I need what's written there by tomorrow morning. I intend to leave... early... and I'd like it if you'd come with me... at least, for the first leg of the journey."
"Where?..." Ian stammered, his stiff upper lip now totally flabby.
"Afghanistan," Derek firmly announced.
"Dr. Rayne... it's nice to see you again, sir." The "club's" concierge was genuinely pleased, but maintained his proper decorum. He'd worked for the Legacy as boy and man... and had grown a sixth sense about whom to trust and whom not to trust. Derek Rayne had always definitely been one of the "good guys". As he surveyed the precept, he realized that something had, indeed, happened to him.... He was thin... with an air of fragile melancholy about him... and his longer hair bestowed a rather Bohemian aura... but it was a relief to know that the most dire of the rumors had been wrong... but what of the rest?
"Good evening, Chambers," Derek greeted the man. "I believe there is a Council meeting... and that my presence is required."
"Indeed... sir... and much appreciated... no doubt... once they recover," the concierge said with an amused twinkle as he reached beneath the heavy oak desk and pressed the button to allow Derek to enter the elevator.
"No doubt." The precept returned the smile. "Now... if you will excuse me.... Ian... I'll see you
later." Derek turned, took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and stepped into the paneled car.
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