Pandora's Daughter, page 15
"I think you know." He repeated softly, "High energy, extreme empathy, intelligence, deep emotional responses, sensuality. Sound familiar?"
Of course, it sounded familiar. "You're saying that I'm one of those Pandoras." She shook her head. "Even if I believed in this Pandora concept, that doesn't mean I'm one. Don't Listeners have similar characteristics?"
"Yes. On a lesser scale."
"And who knows if that part of Ricardo's confession isn't fabrication? Facilitation is even less believable than other psychic abilities."
"And frightening. The responsibility could be awesome. Touch someone and you create a Frankenstein." He smiled. "Or a Mother Theresa."
"I'm a doctor. I've handled a lot of people in my life and not one has turned into a monster or angel. So I think this so-called gift has passed me by."
"Perhaps. Even the family wasn't entirely sure how the talent worked. Ricardo did say it didn't manifest itself until a woman was in her mid-twenties. It could be that you haven't reached the right stage of development yet. Or maybe certain circumstances have to be present to trigger it."
She shook her head. "You're reaching. It's enough for me to accept being a Listener. I'm not going to let you throw this at me when there's no evidence. I'm not a Pandora."
"That's what your mother said," he said quietly. "It was the last thing she said to me. She was fighting admitting it until the end."
Not Pandora. Not Pandora. Not Pandora.
"And you knew it." His gaze was narrowed on her face. "I thought you did. That's why I didn't want you to read this part of the report when you were alone."
"She was dying. Why would she-"
"Because she was a Pandora, but she didn't want to admit it. If she accepted that she was a Pandora, then she'd have to accept that you'd probably become one. A Listener was bad enough, but a Pandora was big trouble. It had already destroyed her life."
"How?"
"Molino. She killed his son."
Megan shook her head. "No."
"She did it, Megan. She didn't stab him or shoot him, but she did kill him." He held her gaze. "No one deserved it more. I told you she was raped when she was held captive. It was Molino's son who did it, many, many times and with great brutality. That last night he brought her out by the campfire and started to rape her in full view of Molino and the rest of his men."
"You've already told me this," she said shakily. "I don't want to hear the details. It… hurts me."
"And I don't want to tell them to you. But I have to do it. It's time, Megan."
"I won't listen. I can't stand thinking about-" It didn't matter what she wanted or her own pain. This was her mother he was talking about. She had to listen. She braced herself. "Go on. Do it."
"There's not much more. It must have been like being surrounded by a pack of wolves for her. There was shouting and laughing, humiliation, and pain. She'd been raped by him before, but this was even more hideous. I don't know if it was an accumulation of the horror or if she just couldn't take it any longer. Something must have snapped in Sarah. She screamed. Then she grabbed hold of Molino's son's hand to stop him from touching her and screamed again. Everyone was laughing at her. It was a big joke." He stopped. "And then Steven Molino started screaming. He got off Sarah and backed away from her as if she had the plague. He was shrieking and crying and muttering curses. He ran off into the jungle. When they found him an hour later, he was still running, still trying to get away from Sarah. They brought him back to the camp and Molino arranged for a helicopter to pick them up. He was completely out of his head and muttering things that his father was thinking, that the other men in the camp were thinking."
"Mind reading," Megan whispered.
He nodded. "Evidently his latent talent. But it must have exploded in him like a rocket when Sarah grabbed his hand. Molino hustled his son on the helicopter and flew out to Nairobi to get him medical help. When they got off the copter, he was distracted for a moment when he was talking to the doctor who had met the flight." He shrugged. "A moment was all it took. Steven Molino turned and walked back into the rear blades of the helicopter. Not a pretty way to die."
"Good," she said fiercely. "I wish I could have been there to finish the job with a machete."
"So did I when we took Sarah back from them and I heard what happened from one of Molino's men we captured. But it wasn't necessary." He paused. "Sarah had taken care of it herself."
"Just because Molino's son went bonkers? That's pretty flimsy evidence that my mother had some kind of malignant power that sent him over the edge." She was trying to think clearly, logically. "Maybe it was guilt, or it could be he was schizophrenic anyway."
"Perhaps."
"But you don't believe it."
"The second page I was withholding from you was the report that Michael had compiled on your mother before Molino's son's death. Her DNA blood tests confirmed that she was connected to the core DNA family."
"How could you know that?"
"José Devanez was buried at his estate in Spain after his suicide." His lips twisted. "Not on hallowed ground, but I don't believe he would have cared considering the circumstances. I'm not sure what strings Michael pulled but he managed to get a DNA sample from José's remains."
"Even if she was a Devanez that doesn't mean my mother could destroy someone just by touching them. Rosa's story could be a fairy tale."
"Or it could be truth. The witnesses to that slimeball's death were sure that Sarah had driven him to it."
"And I'm supposed to believe a bunch of sadistic bastards who cheered when my mother was raped?"
"You'll believe what you have to believe. My job was to lay the facts before you. If you're the daughter of a Pandora, then you need to be prepared." He added roughly, "Your mother let you blunder through life ignorant and blind. I'll be damned if I'll let it go on."
Her hands clenched on the cup. "You'd rather I be terrified all my life of killing someone accidentally?"
"Ignorance breeds fear. If there's a chance the danger is there, then you should know about it and how to control it. If it took repeated rape to cause Sarah's gift to explode, then this facilitating can't be that easy. As far as I know, it never happened again with her. She didn't want the gift and she shunted it away from her. She refused to admit she possessed it."
"Perhaps she didn't. Perhaps Pandoras don't exist." He shook his head. "Lord, you're as stubborn as your mother. Whether you want to believe it or not, realize that Molino believes it. He saw what happened to his son, he saw Sarah turn his son into a madman. And when he stole the copy of those records from Michael's library, he made the connection. Oh, yes, Molino believes Pandoras exist. He regards them as a scourge upon the earth."
"Pot calling the kettle black," she said bitterly. "For God's sake, he's as bad as those priests who thought Rosa was an archdemon sent to destroy the world."
"He's worse. At least, the priests thought they had some reason to fear Rosa's gift. Your Johnny Appleseed comparison wasn't far off the mark. Indiscriminate facilitation could be a disaster. What if Hitler had had the power to see the future? Could he have changed it and won the war? What if Sadaam Hussein had the ability to read minds? Would he have been able to unite the Arab world against the West? Think about it."
"I don't want to think about it."
"Do it anyway. There may be other people who want to destroy you as much as Molino does if they become convinced you could be a chess piece in the enemy camp." He paused. "Or you could be killed because some idealistic do-gooder thinks they're going to save civilization by ridding it of a threat."
"Me? Ridiculous." But there were a lot of crackpots in the world. Grady's suggestion wasn't all that far-fetched, she thought with a shiver. "You're not being very encouraging."
"If the talent is a two-headed coin as Ricardo said, then it could be either hideous or wonderful. Since we don't have any concrete evidence of the pros and cons, you'll have to define them for yourself. Providing you don't choose to close your eyes and ignore the truth as Sarah did."
"My mother was happy and she made me happy. Maybe that's the way to go."
He smiled. "Don't give me that bull. I can't see you content to drift along, hiding from reality."
What he called reality right now was confusing and frightening. She didn't want to hide but she needed time to absorb and decide how much to believe and what to do next. She stood up and held out her hand. "Give me those last two pages."
"You don't believe me?" He went to the desk and picked up the fax sheets. "By all means, study them carefully."
She did believe what he had told her was the truth. "I have to see it for myself. Interpretation can alter everything. It's the only way it will sink home to me." She took the pages and turned toward the door. "Good night, Grady."
"If you need me, I'll be here," he said quietly.
"Thank you."
If you need me. Those words would have had an entirely different meaning earlier in the evening when she had been lost in a haze of sexuality. She gave him a ghost of a smile over her shoulder. "How quickly things change."
"Nothing's changed." He said curtly. "Not really. Give me any encouragement and I'd have you in bed in a heartbeat. But I'm not fool enough to think I have a chance while you're this upset. I can wait."
She felt a ripple of shock. "Evidently I was giving you too much credit for sensitivity."
"You want sensitive? I'd give you sensitive. Hell, I'd like to comfort you. But you're too defensive to accept it. So I'll take what I can get. You like sex. That's fine with me. My God, it's more than fine."
She had a sudden memory of the description of a Pandora in Ricardo's confession. "Don't believe everything you read. I'm no Pandora and any sensuality I possess is both normal and healthy."
He grimaced. "You see? Defensive. That's what I was afraid would happen when you read the Tribunal's report."
"Dammit, you've just told me I could be some kind of walking time bomb. I have a right to be defensive."
"Yes, you do. But not with me. I'm on your side. Believe me, other than the possibility of the Pandora talent, I think you're beautifully normal in every way. I don't give a damn what's in that report. You're no carbon copy. But I'm not going to ignore the fact that I know you like sex. I've been linked too closely to you not to realize that. And whatever you want, I'll give you." He added curtly, "And you'd better get out of here before I start elaborating. The line between sympathy and erotica are a little blurred in my mind right now."
Erotica. Grady's fingers caressing her throat. Her body changing, tensing, coming alive.
"Don't worry, I'm leaving. Good night." A few seconds later the door closed behind her. She hadn't needed those last few moments of sexuality thrown into the mix. She was confused and upset enough. Yet, in a way, that raw earthiness had grounded her after all the talk of Pandora and the horror her mother had undergone. Had that been Grady's intention? He was clever and he knew her very well.
Don't analyze, don't try to make excuses for Grady. She had to read these last pages and then think about what they meant to her. Wildly improbable? Yet in the beginning she had thought being a listener was beyond belief. Was her skepticism based on fear?
Then come to terms with it. Grady had said he was into controlling talents instead of letting them run wild. It made sense. She couldn't let herself be terrorized by her own helplessness to cope. She had conquered her fear of Listening. Well, almost. It was coming.
And it was doubtful that this Pandora thing would ever affect her in any meaningful way. As she had told Grady, as a doctor she had exhibited no signs of being a so-called facilitator. She might be worrying over nothing.
God, she hoped that was true.
"BET THEM, PAPA. I HATE THEM ALL. Why haven't you killed them yet?"
Another dream? But his son was standing there, gazing at him accusingly. "I'm trying, Steven."
"It's been too long. You have to kill all those freaks. Look what they did to me."
Steven's mangled face. His son's head flying from his body as the rotors struck him.
"Oh, my God." Molino was sobbing. "I know. I know. Forgive me."
"I'll forgive you when you kill the freaks." Steven smiled at him. "I'll help you. Together we can do it. We'll get all of them. We'll butcher the freaks."
"Yes. Together." Exhilaration flooded him. "We'll do it, Steven."
"You asked me to wake you if we heard from Falbon."
Molino sluggishly opened his eyes to see Sienna standing in the doorway. For a moment he thought Sienna was the dream figure instead of Steven. "What is it?"
"Falbon says the chartered plane landed in Munich. He's on his way there now."
Molino sat up in bed and shook his head to clear it. "Munich. Who did we have on the suspect list in Munich?"
"Renata Wilger. Edmund Gillem was seen with her on his last visit through Germany."
"Then Grady will be searching for her. Tell Falbon he has to find her first." He lay back down again and closed his eyes. "I want a report when I get up in the morning."
Sienna turned out the light and closed the door.
I'll help you, Papa.
Yes, help me, Steven. Molino was suddenly filled with boundless confidence. Who was to know if his son had not been able to break through the barriers of death to join with him? The freaks shouldn't have a monopoly on power.
Help me, and we'll butcher them all.
CHAPTER TWELVE
RENATA COULD HEAR THE FOOTSTEPS behind her. They slowed when she slowed, quickened when speeded up.
Bastard.
Molino? No, probably not. One of his men.
Keep calm. She had prepared for this eventuality and she would meet it with the same strength that Edmund had shown.
The hell she would. Edmund had been a martyr. She wasn't going to let them force her to do anything she didn't want to do. She was only twenty-three and had her whole life before her. She was going to live.
And there was only one man following her. It didn't have to be one of Molino's scumbags. He could be a masher or a thief. It was after midnight and this wasn't the first time she'd had men try to follow her the two blocks from her office to the lot where she parked her car.
But this man wasn't trying to get closer. He was keeping her within view but not attempting to make an approach. She didn't like that. Not at all. Okay, let's bring him out in the open.
She turned left at the next block and ducked into the vestibule of a shop.
He came around the corner a few minutes later, a heavyset man in his forties with thinning brown hair. He stopped cautiously, his eyes searching the street in front of him. His hand reached into his jacket pocket. She caught the gleam of metal.
A gun.
She didn't give him the chance to bring the gun out.
She jumped out of the vestibule and struck his arm with the edge of her hand. The gun dropped from his nerveless hand to the street. Then she followed through with a fist to his stomach.
"Bitch," he gasped. "I'll cut you to pieces, you-"
She gave him a karate chop to the back of his neck. He crumpled, but he had drawn a knife by the time he reached the ground. He lunged upward toward her.
Lord, she hated knives. She'd always had a horror of cold steel going into a body. She dodged to the left and then brought her palm crashing up under his nose. This time he didn't get up.
Dead?
Oh, yes. The splintered bones of his nose had entered his brain. She fell to her knees beside him and started searching through his pockets for ID and found a passport. Raoul Falbon.
"I saw a police car cruising a block behind us. I believe we'd better forget gathering the spoils and get out of here."
She stiffened, her gaze flying to the man who stood watching her a few yards away. She tensed, ready to spring, her hand moving toward the gun Falbon had dropped on the ground.
"Oh, dear." He drew a gun from his jacket. "I'm no threat but I really don't want to be treated to the same punishment as that poor fellow on the ground, Renata. Now shall we go? You don't want to talk to the police, do you? I certainly don't."
"Who are you?"
"Jed Harley. And I have no connection to Molino. To prove it, I'm graciously ignoring the fact that you're considering going for that gun on the ground. As soon as we have time to talk, I'll put my gun away. Deal?"
She shrugged. "Sure. I'd be very stupid to-" She dove forward in a roll and struck him in the knees and brought him down. The next moment she was on top of him.
"No, ma'am." He backhanded her and then bucked her off him.
Dizzy. She shook her head to clear it even as she dove for the gun beside Falbon.
He reached it before she did and threw it skittering down the street.
She bit his arm and reached for the gun still in his hand.
"Ouch. You little cannibal." He clipped her on the side of the head with the gun.
Pain. Ignore it. She came at him again and went for the jugular.
He grabbed her, spun her around, his arm around her neck jerking her head back. "Listen. I could break your neck. I don't want to do it."
"Because then I'd be useless to you," she said fiercely. "I couldn't tell you what you want to know."
"No, because my orders are to find you and keep you safe from Molino until you can talk to Neal Grady. Breaking your neck would be frowned upon." He added wistfully, "Though it might almost be worth it."
If she kicked backward, she might get him off guard. His grip had to loosen just a little and then she'd-
He sighed. "You're not going to give up, are you? I guess I'll have to resort to dire methods." He took her hand. "Stop struggling. You're getting what you want." She felt him closing her hand around something hard and metal. Then he released her and stepped back. "Okay, go for it."
She stared down at the gun he'd placed in her hand. "What are you doing?"
"You obviously have to be on top or you won't listen." He spread out his arms. "I'm at your mercy, Renata Wilger."
She frowned. "Is the gun empty?"
