Michael Connelly - Blood Work

“James, I want you to open the file and look at the photos. Tell us if any of the men were the man you saw in the speeding car.”

Noone put his glasses back on and took the file but said, “I don’t know. I really didn’t get a-”

“I know,” Winston said. “But take a look.”

Noone opened the file. There was a piece of cardboard inside with squares cut out in two rows of three. In the squares were photos of men. Bolotov’s photo was the third on the top row. Noone stared at the six-pack, his eyes moving from photo to photo, and then shook his head.

“I’m sorry. I just didn’t see him.”

“That’s fine,” McCaleb said quickly before Winston could say something that Noone might interpret as a negative. “I think we’re ready to go on, then.”

He took the file from Noone and tossed it onto the table.

“So why don’t you start by just telling us what you do to relax, James?” McCaleb asked.

Noone looked back at him blankly.

“You know, when are you happiest? When are you the most relaxed and at peace? Me, I like to work on my boat and go fishing. I don’t even care if I catch anything. I just like having a line in the water. How about you, James? You like shooting baskets, hitting golf balls? What?”

“Um, I don’t know. I guess I like being on the computer.”

“But that’s not relaxing mentally, James, is it? I’m not talking about something where you have to do a lot of thinking. I mean, what do you do when you want to let it all go. When you’re tired of thinking and you just want to go blank for a while.”

“Well… I don’t know. I like to go to the beach. There’s a place I know. I go there.”

“What’s it look like?”

“The sand down there is so white and it’s wide. You can rent horses and ride along the edge of the water below the cliffs. The water cuts under the cliffs and it’s like a hanging edge. People sit under there in the shade.”

“Okay, that’s good. That’s real good, James. Now, I want you to close your eyes, rest your arms in your lap and in your mind I want you to think about that spot. Picture in your mind that you are walking on that beach. Just relax and walk along the beach.”

McCaleb was silent for a half minute and simply watched Noone’s face. The skin around the corners of his closed eyes began to relax and McCaleb then led him through a set of sensory exercises in which he told him to concentrate on the feel of his socks on his feet, his hands on the fabric of his pants, the glasses on the bridge of his nose, even the hair-what was left of it-on his head.

After five minutes of this, McCaleb went on to muscle exercises, telling Noone to crunch his toes together as hard as possible, hold them that way and then release.

Slowly the focus of the exercises was moved up his body, eventually going to every muscle group. McCaleb then started again at the toes and moved back up. It was a method of exhausting the muscles and making the mind more susceptible to the suggestion of relaxation and rest. McCaleb noticed Noone’s breathing going deep and long. Things were going well. He looked at his watch and saw it was now six-thirty.

“Okay, James, now without opening your eyes, I want you to hold your left hand out and up in front of your face. Hold it about a foot from your face.”

Noone responded and McCaleb let him hold his arm up for a good minute, all the while counseling him to relax and keep his thoughts on the beach he was walking on.

“Okay, I now want you to very slowly bring your hand toward your face. Very slowly.”

Noone’s hand started to move toward his nose.

“Okay, slower now,” McCaleb said, his words slower and softer than before. “That’s it, James. Slowly. And when your hand touches your face you will be totally relaxed and at that point you will drop into a deep hypnotic state.”

He was silent then as he watched Noone’s hand move slowly forward until his palm stopped at his nose. At the moment of contact, his head dipped forward and his shoulders slumped. His hand dropped into his lap. McCaleb looked over at Winston. She raised her eyebrows and nodded at him. McCaleb knew they were only halfway there but things were looking good. He decided to run a little test.

“James, you are totally relaxed now, totally at rest. You are so relaxed that your arms are as light as feathers. They weigh nothing at all.”

He watched him but he didn’t move, which was good.

“Okay, now I’m going to take a balloon that’s full of helium and tie the string to your left hand. I’m tying it on now. There, the balloon is tied to your wrist, James, and I’m letting go of it.”

Immediately, Noone’s left arm began to rise until it was stretched upward, his hand up higher than his head. McCaleb just watched. And after half a minute Noone’s arm showed no indication of tiring.

“Okay, James, I have a pair of scissors and I’m going to cut the string.”

McCaleb reached back to the table and lifted the scissors. He opened them and closed them sharply on the imaginary string. Noone’s arm dropped back into his lap. McCaleb looked over at Winston and nodded.

“Okay, James, you are very relaxed and nothing is bothering you. I want you to picture in your mind that you’re walking on that beach and you come to a garden. The garden is green and lush and beautiful and there are flowers and birds singing. It is so beautiful and peaceful. You’ve never been in any spot as peaceful as this. Now… you walk through the garden and come to a small building with a set of doors. They’re elevator doors, James. They’re made of wood with gold trim around the edges and they’re beautiful. Everything here is beautiful.

“The doors open, James, and you step on the elevator because you know it takes you down to your special room. A room where nobody else can go. Only you can go down there and you are in total peace when you go there.”

McCaleb got up and stood in front of Noone, just a few feet away. Noone showed no outward sign of acknowledging the close presence of another person.

“The elevator buttons show you are on number ten and you have to go down to your room on number one. You push the button, James, and the elevator starts to go down. You are feeling more relaxed as each floor goes by.”

McCaleb raised his arm and held it parallel to the ground and a foot in front of Noone’s face. He then began raising it, bringing it back around and then up again. He knew the disturbance the motion would make in the light hitting Noone’s eyelids would add to his sense of descent.

“You’re going down, James. Deeper and deeper. That’s the ninth floor… now the eighth, and seven… You are getting deeper and deeper, more and more relaxed. The sixth floor just went by… now the fifth… four… three… two… and one… The doors open now and you step into your special room. You’re there, James, and in perfect peace.”

McCaleb went back to his chair. He then told Noone to enter his room and that the most comfortable chair in the world was waiting for him there. He told him to sit down and just melt into the chair. He told him to imagine a pat of butter melting in a frying pan on very low heat.

“No sizzle, just a slow, slow melting. That’s you, James. Just melting into your chair.”

He waited a few moments and then told Noone about the television that was sitting right in front of him. “You’ve got the remote control in your hand. And this is a special television with a special remote. You can watch whatever you want to on this TV. You can back the picture up, go forward, zoom in or pull back out. Whatever you want to do with it, you can do. Now, turn it on, James. And what we’re going to watch on that special TV right now is what you saw on the night of January twenty-second when you were going to the bank in Lancaster to get some money.”