George Chesbro: Shadow of a Broken Man

Tal lighted another cigarette. His face hadn't changed, but his hand shook slightly. He saw that I noticed, quickly ground the cigarette out, and put his hands in his pockets. The masquerade was over, and Ronald Tal-Victor Rafferty knew it. I wondered why I didn't feel better about the whole thing.

"You could stay on top of what was happening simply by being around the right people-like me-at the right time. You were hoping against hope that I and the others would conclude that you had died, but you needed me in order to keep in touch with people you wouldn't ordinarily come into contact with."

I paused and was once again aware of the tingling in my mind. It was slight, but it was there. Tal's eyes had narrowed.

"You got worried when you found out I wanted to bail out of the case," I continued. "You already knew at that time that the Russians had Foster and your ex-wife, and you had to stay plugged into the situation until you could figure out what to do. I was your plug.

"But first you had to change my mind; you had to make me feel better; you had to make me see things the way you wanted me to see them. You eased my guilt with that incredible mind of yours. There's a distinct sensation when you touch someone's mind; I first felt it when we were together in the chapel. Of course, I didn't know what was happening at the time, but then I felt it again in the hospital, and still again at the farmhouse. I went into that chapel ready to slit my wrists, and walked out feeling pretty good.

When I stopped to think about it, I knew it wasn't natural. In fact, it was getting to the point-then and later-where I perked up every time you were around. You juiced up my psyche once too often, and I started to put it together after I heard Lippitt describe what you'd done for him.

"You were the one who saved me at the farmhouse. I knew I heard a door open; it was you. I think I know what you did, but I can't understand how you found out I was there."

Tal shrugged. "Let me speculate along your lines. Rafferty was keeping a very close watch on things … and who would be better qualified than a total telepath? He knew about the two British agents on your tail, and he knew the Russians had brought in Kaznakov. He became very much concerned and made it a point to make excuses to see-or at least be physically close to-informed British and Russian officials every day. Of course, there had to be a bit of good fortune involved; he may have talked with an Englishman who was nervous because a check-in call from the two agents he controlled was long overdue. Then, naturally, Rafferty would have probed to find out where the British agents were supposed to be." He smiled thinly. "Pure speculation, of course."

Tal seemed calmer now, and I was certain I knew why. He'd made a decision: Tal, in his own way, was telling me I was right. He really had no choice; whether he admitted it or not, what I'd already said was probably enough to get us both killed if I repeated it anywhere else.

"Go ahead," Tal said. "Let's hear the rest of it."

"Again: why don't you just read my mind?"

Tal took some time to think about his answer. "Perhaps it's physically painful, Mongo. Maybe it's a very personal thing that involves simply not wanting to invade someone else's privacy. Or, maybe I'm simply not Victor Rafferty."

"You are Victor Rafferty."

"Why insist on being so sure, Mongo? Right or wrong, you'll pay a terrible price; that kind of certainty could make you responsible for the lives of Victor Rafferty and others for as long as you live. Don't pick up that burden. Rafferty died in that explosion down on the beach. Leave it at that."

"Why not just kill me?"

"You mean if I was who you say I am? Because Victor Rafferty is not a killer." He paused, added: "Except, I assume, when he has no other choice."

I cleared my throat, tried to swallow. My mouth was still dry. "I was in bad shape after Kaznakov played his tune on me. I was finished. I might never have come back. But you took care of that, too… in the apartment, while I slept. I know enough about psychiatry to realize that a mental condition like the one I had couldn't possibly cure itself overnight. Thaag probably put something in the tea to make me sleep. Then you came back and went to work on my head, just the same as you did when you entered Lippitt's mind to cure him of that permanent chill. You fixed me up because you needed me for the break-in at the consulate.

"Incidentally, you probably stole that plan from Lippitt. You were going in anyway because you knew about the ultimatum. That's why you called the Russians, using a voice you hadn't used in five years. Lippitt had a good plan, and that's why you co-opted it. You had to make sure that you went along, because that was the only way you could help ensure success. After all, your ex-wife was in there, and you still love her."

Tal made an angry, impatient gesture. "Victor Rafferty is dead, remember?"

I went on as if he hadn't spoken. "The most incredible thing was that trick you pulled off at the consulate. If you did what I think you did, it's no wonder everyone's turning the world inside out looking for you." I paused for breath; the excitement and anxiety I felt were making me short-winded. "You knew something was wrong when I didn't show up on time to open the door. You waited until Lippitt got nervous and started to look around-or maybe you planted the suggestion in his mind. He walked away for a few seconds and you threw back that steel bolt with your mind. Telekinesis. God , how that must have cost you! You hemorrhaged, just as you did five years ago when you broke out of that hospital room. There was blood running out of your nose. You'd come up to help me. Finally, there was the way you guided us safely out of that building. You seemed to know where everything was, and what was happening; you even knew that a silent alarm had been triggered. You picked that up from the guard."

"Who blew up the boathouse?" Tal asked. "Do you believe Elliot Thomas was kind enough to do that for… Victor Rafferty?"

"Rolfe Thaag took care of that bit of business. He's not young, but he's in good shape, and he'd know about firearms and explosives from his World War Two days with the Resistance."

"The Secretary General is in the hospital."

"Is he? We'll see. I think you had something like this as a contingency plan from the beginning, although having Thomas make his move when he did was an added blessing; you had a real body to put in the boathouse. I'm betting a title search will show that this particular piece of real estate belongs to you personally, to Rolfe Thaag, or even to some U.N. agency. You've both had time to plan this thing and make preparations. My guess is that there's an underground passage leading out of that boathouse into this one or the one next door. Rolfe Thaag sat in there for a while with an unconscious Thomas, trading shots with Lippitt and his men long enough for all the invited guests to show up. Then he left through that underground passage-which I think we'll find with a little digging-to wherever he is now. That's where he operated the boat by remote control. Thomas must have regained consciousness before he was supposed to. Hell, for all I know you may have been able to control the poor bastard from here."

Tal suddenly looked over my shoulder and tensed. "Why don't you join us, Mr. Lippitt?"

There was the sound of footsteps behind me, and I turned in time to see Lippitt step out from the shadows by the entranceway where he'd been listening. He walked slowly into the boathouse and stopped a few yards away from where Tal and I were standing. The agent was carrying a large, ugly pistol which was leveled at Tal.

I felt stricken at the thought that I'd been the one to expose Tal.