feeling from vanishing. Maybe the pain would go back into remission.
"My name is Marc Prine. I'm Jessica Mordente's lawyer."
All vestiges of sleep disappeared and Macklin sat up against the headboard. His ribs complained in sharp bolts of pain. He hadn't noticed Jessica's absence until now. He had been back in LA for only a few hours.
"What is it?"
"Jessica told me if she didn't call me four days after entering the Transformational Awareness Life Church I was to call you," Prine said. "I'm supposed to tell you that she's in trouble. She said you'd know what to do."
Macklin felt the familiar coldness, the rage, wash over him, submerging his emotions and invoking the killer inside him.
Yeah, he knew what to do. "What happens after I get her out?"
"Jessica made plans in case this happened. She selected a deprogrammer and gave her full legal authority in this matter. Take Jessica to her immediately. Her name is Raven Vanowen and she'll be expecting you." Prine gave Macklin Vanowen's Santa Monica address and the location of the TALC compound. "Jessica made me promise not to call the police. You aren't bound by that promise. You can call them. I suggest you do. If you go in there alone, you'll get killed. These people aren't playing games."
"Neither am I." Macklin hung up the phone and slid open the nightstand drawer. He pulled out his father's .357 Magnum and a handful of shells.
# # # # # #
9:00 p.m.
Fraser Nebbins stood in front of the den's picture window, staring into the impenetrable desert night. The blackness had swallowed everything. All light, all shape, all motion, had been overcome by darkness. It made Fraser feel like the only life in the cosmos.
He liked the feeling.
That's why he'd moved to the desert. Here, he had a stronger sense of control over his destiny. Here, life was put into perspective. Here, screams were absorbed into the dry earth. Here, he could behead an uncooperative subordinate in broad daylight with impunity. Here, Fraser Nebbins was king.
Nebbins sighed, took a sip of sherry from the goblet cradled in his hands, and turned away from the window. Someone rapped insistently at the door.
"Come in," Nebbins said.
Jessica Mordente stood solemnly in the doorway in a gray T-shirt and sweats, the standard TALC uniform for new recruits. She looked healthy and aware, yet intellectually blank. Behind her, Achmed Sabib beamed enthusiastically, his face dominated by a leering grin. He gave her a slight push, and she obediently glided into the room.
Nebbins swallowed the remainder of his sherry and hit a tiny button on his desk. Two curtains moved across the picture window and collided in the center.
"You've done a remarkable job." Sabib closed the door and approached Mordente. "She's everything you promised she would be."
Nebbins bowed modestly. "I'm simply the best there is, Achmed."
Sabib snapped his fingers. Mordente's pliant body molded against his. She pinned his head in her hands and kissed him, probing his mouth with her tongue.
Nebbins laughed. "I see you've taken the liberty of teaching her a few commands."
Sabib freed himself from her hungry kisses. "I will take many more liberties with her tonight, and, as a token of my appreciation, you may enjoy her as well."
Nebbins smiled and settled into his leather armchair. Mordente's hands fervently groped Sabib's fleshy back.
"May I watch?" Nebbins asked.
"Of course." Sabib jammed his fingers between Mordente's buttocks and squeezed them in his hands. "You may want to raise your selling price once you see what she can do.
"Strip," Sabib ordered her, pushing her away from him.
Mordente peeled off her T-shirt, her unrestrained breasts bouncing free, flung the shirt aside, and quickly stepped out of her sweatpants. She stood before Sabib, naked and vulnerable.
"On your knees," Sabib pointed to the floor.
Mordente dropped to her knees, looking up at him with wet, puppy-dog eyes. Nebbins nodded approvingly. Sabib knew how to handle his
"My name is Marc Prine. I'm Jessica Mordente's lawyer."
All vestiges of sleep disappeared and Macklin sat up against the headboard. His ribs complained in sharp bolts of pain. He hadn't noticed Jessica's absence until now. He had been back in LA for only a few hours.
"What is it?"
"Jessica told me if she didn't call me four days after entering the Transformational Awareness Life Church I was to call you," Prine said. "I'm supposed to tell you that she's in trouble. She said you'd know what to do."
Macklin felt the familiar coldness, the rage, wash over him, submerging his emotions and invoking the killer inside him.
Yeah, he knew what to do. "What happens after I get her out?"
"Jessica made plans in case this happened. She selected a deprogrammer and gave her full legal authority in this matter. Take Jessica to her immediately. Her name is Raven Vanowen and she'll be expecting you." Prine gave Macklin Vanowen's Santa Monica address and the location of the TALC compound. "Jessica made me promise not to call the police. You aren't bound by that promise. You can call them. I suggest you do. If you go in there alone, you'll get killed. These people aren't playing games."
"Neither am I." Macklin hung up the phone and slid open the nightstand drawer. He pulled out his father's .357 Magnum and a handful of shells.
# # # # # #
9:00 p.m.
Fraser Nebbins stood in front of the den's picture window, staring into the impenetrable desert night. The blackness had swallowed everything. All light, all shape, all motion, had been overcome by darkness. It made Fraser feel like the only life in the cosmos.
He liked the feeling.
That's why he'd moved to the desert. Here, he had a stronger sense of control over his destiny. Here, life was put into perspective. Here, screams were absorbed into the dry earth. Here, he could behead an uncooperative subordinate in broad daylight with impunity. Here, Fraser Nebbins was king.
Nebbins sighed, took a sip of sherry from the goblet cradled in his hands, and turned away from the window. Someone rapped insistently at the door.
"Come in," Nebbins said.
Jessica Mordente stood solemnly in the doorway in a gray T-shirt and sweats, the standard TALC uniform for new recruits. She looked healthy and aware, yet intellectually blank. Behind her, Achmed Sabib beamed enthusiastically, his face dominated by a leering grin. He gave her a slight push, and she obediently glided into the room.
Nebbins swallowed the remainder of his sherry and hit a tiny button on his desk. Two curtains moved across the picture window and collided in the center.
"You've done a remarkable job." Sabib closed the door and approached Mordente. "She's everything you promised she would be."
Nebbins bowed modestly. "I'm simply the best there is, Achmed."
Sabib snapped his fingers. Mordente's pliant body molded against his. She pinned his head in her hands and kissed him, probing his mouth with her tongue.
Nebbins laughed. "I see you've taken the liberty of teaching her a few commands."
Sabib freed himself from her hungry kisses. "I will take many more liberties with her tonight, and, as a token of my appreciation, you may enjoy her as well."
Nebbins smiled and settled into his leather armchair. Mordente's hands fervently groped Sabib's fleshy back.
"May I watch?" Nebbins asked.
"Of course." Sabib jammed his fingers between Mordente's buttocks and squeezed them in his hands. "You may want to raise your selling price once you see what she can do.
"Strip," Sabib ordered her, pushing her away from him.
Mordente peeled off her T-shirt, her unrestrained breasts bouncing free, flung the shirt aside, and quickly stepped out of her sweatpants. She stood before Sabib, naked and vulnerable.
"On your knees," Sabib pointed to the floor.
Mordente dropped to her knees, looking up at him with wet, puppy-dog eyes. Nebbins nodded approvingly. Sabib knew how to handle his
Similar Books
