The Prodigy Part 9

"Mustn't touch, Jimbo," Father's voice chided. "Mustn't ever, ever touch."

"Shut up." He saw Dr. Conyors was saying something to the taller guy with the moustache. Jimmy focused on him, wanting him gone, wishing that he wouldn't talk with Barrett. "What are you saying?"

She was turning away now, heading east, probably back to her office. He watched as she stopped and pulled out a tiny cell phone. He needed to know who was on the other end.

She clicked it closed, and was nearly out of view when the tall cop called out to her. Even through the closed windows, Jimmy could hear him use her first name. Such disrespect, surely she'd ignore him, or at the very least inform him that she was to be referred to as doctor. But that's not what happened. She just turned and smiled as the dark-suited man jogged toward her. He waved back to his partner, and to Jimmy's horror, he and Dr. Conyors walked off together and disappeared from view.

"No!"

"Stupid boy," Father needled in his ear. "Such a stupid boy. But don't worry, she'll see you get nicely tucked away."

"Shut up!" Jimmy shouted into Mother's empty boudoir.

"What's the matter? Can't deal with a little compet.i.tion?"

"She doesn't like him. How could she?"

"I bet he has a nice big c.o.c.k. Perhaps if you asked him, he'd show it to you."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up."

Father's voice sang inside his head. "Stupid boy, stupid boy. Jimbo is a stupid boy."

Jimmy pictured Ellen, she'd know what to do; she always did. He had to think, to plan. He had to find a way to get through this. Dr. Conyors had caught him off guard; she knew that he wasn't taking the medication.

"But if she loved you, Jimbo, why would she care?"

As always, Father found the thing that hurt most. "She loves me," he said, but felt a horrible uncertainty.

"She'll send you back."

Jimmy turned frantic. That couldn't happen. He couldn't go back to Croton; he'd never survive. Needing to calm himself, he tried to retrieve his earlier fantasy of he and Barrett on stage. They'd make music, he'd take her in his arms, his lips would find hers, and love's first kiss; it would be perfect.

Father's hissing laughter surrounded him, fueling his fear. "You wouldn't know what to do with her. Mustn't touch. Mustn't ever touch."

She'd said she was going to check his blood; she'd know that he'd not been taking his pills. She didn't trust him.

Now he almost regretted what had happened to Dr. Kravitz-what he'd done. Not that he felt remorse, but a sort of dull reflection of that emotion. Kravitz too had wanted to check his blood.

He ran down to the kitchen and into the pantry. There, surrounded by gla.s.s-fronted cabinets filled with priceless dinner services, sterling silver tureens, and the Bennington ironstone that Mother had purchased during a Vermont retreat with one of her drivers, he reached up and into a pink-and-gold Meissen teapot. His long fingers fished inside and pulled out a handful of blue and white pills. Selecting four rhomboid-shaped lithium and three tiny white Risperdal, he poured himself a gla.s.s of water, and one by one swallowed his emergency stash. Her threat was now a hollow one; by the time Hector arrived in the morning his lithium level would be normal.

He stared out the back window, still trying to calm himself, watching a crow hop on the edge of the muck-filled fountain. And suddenly, he realized what she was doing. It was obvious; she was testing him, wanting him to prove his love. She was a prize worth fighting for, and she knew it. Like the fairy tales Maylene would read to him in her warm Southern drawl, like Snow White and Sleeping Beauty waiting for the prince who could prove himself worthy of love's first kiss. It had to be earned, had to be fought for.

He headed out the back door, through the courtyard and into the carriage house. In the sound-proofed upstairs, he went to the phone, and used a line that the review board did not know existed. The entire world of the carriage house had been concealed from them. The phone lines, the cable for the computer were all registered through a subsidiary of Martin Industries. The board had never thought to ask if the fabulous mansion in Gramercy was connected to a separate property. After all, the carriage house had its own 19th Street address, and why tell them more than they demanded to know. The psychiatric review board had total control over his life-at least it was supposed to. They could tap his phone, search his home, and had explicit directions to audit any computer in his house.

He dialed Ellen's direct office number-she didn't like him to do that, but he had to.

She picked up on the third ring.

"Ellen."

"What's the matter?" she asked, keying in to his anxiety.

"It didn't go right."

She paused, "What do you mean, Jimmy?"

"She's testing me. I need you to help me."

"I see...Were you careful?"

"I don't know. I think so," he felt lost and exposed. "Help me, Ellen."

"I like her, Jimmy," Ellen said, as she carefully chose her words. "But one slip and you're back there. You have to listen to me. She's much smarter than the other one. You're certain that you want to go through with this?"

"I have to see her," he said, barreling over his sister's caution. "I need to get inside, to know what she's doing. You have to help me."

"And you'll do as I say?"

He pictured Ellen in Father's old office. He hadn't been there since his release, but could easily imagine how all traces of dear old dad had been replaced with slick Italian modern. "Yes."

"And Father? Can you control him? Can you keep him from f.u.c.king things up again?"

"Yes, yes, please ... and I need you to bring me a new key for my bracelet, the old one broke."

"You're not being careful," she said. "What happened to the old one? And I don't have to do anything. What if I refuse? I've done enough."

"No," he said, suddenly mad at her, she shouldn't play with him like this; it wasn't nice. "If I go down, this time you'll come with me. I know what you did. I've been in the bas.e.m.e.nt. I know everything."

"You're bluffing, Jimmy."

He said nothing, sensing her uncertainty, knowing that he was right; she'd played Hansel and Gretel without him. He waited, letting the seconds stretch into a full minute of silence.

Finally, she spoke, "No sense arguing. There's work to be done. But keep Father out of this, Jimmy."

"I'll try, Ellen. s.h.i.t!" His eye caught a movement in the front door monitor.

"What is it?"

"It's Hector and he's with someone at the door. I've got to go." Without saying goodbye, he raced down the stairs. There was no mistaking the persistent clang of the doorbell.

As he cleared the dining hall he heard the added banging of the bra.s.s door knocker.

"Coming!" he shouted, wanting the noise to stop, frightened by this unexpected intrusion. "I'm coming." He peered through the gla.s.s fisheye and saw his case worker and a young black woman he'd never met.

"Jimmy, man," Hector said, as the door opened, "what took you so long?"

"I was taking a nap," he said letting them in. "Why are you here?" he asked, trying to keep his tone neutral, while seething at this violation of his privacy.

"Doctor's orders," Hector said, as Fred sniffed at the woman's ankles.

"What a pretty kitty," she said, setting her heavy shoulder pack on the floor.

"I don't understand," Jimmy was freaking. "What orders?"

"Dr. Conyors asked for some bloodwork, said it couldn't wait. This is Veronica."

"Hi," she picked up Fred and scratched the side of his head with her forefinger.

"Now?" Jimmy frantically wondered if the lithium and Risperdal he'd swallowed after the session had had enough time to make it into his bloodstream. He tried to control his breathing, to not let them see how freaked out he was.

"That's the order. Do it in the kitchen?"

"Sure," he said, trying to think of a way to buy time.

"Just show me where to set up," Veronica cheerfully went on, setting down Fred and hefting her bag. "Just three tubes and then we'll be out of here. G.o.d," she said, looking around and gushing as Jimmy slowly led them back through the immense front hall, "What a fantastic house! Hector says you've got it all to yourself. Man, I'd kill for a place like this!"

NINE.

After leaving Hobbs, Barrett returned to the office and her paperwork. She'd promised herself to be out of there no later than six, which would give her time to run home, get in an hour on the piano, wolf down supper, and make it to kung fu by eight.

She was also hoping to hear from the lab, to know if her gravy train with Jimmy was about to get derailed. With that plan, she clicked the hand control for the dictaphone. Halfway through her report on a mentally r.e.t.a.r.ded man who'd shoplifted cheap toys from department stores, the phone rang. Hoping it would be the lab, she picked up.

"Dr. Conyors," Marla whispered, "there's an Ellen Martin here who's insisting that she needs to see you right away."

"What's she doing here? ... Never mind." Barrett could easily imagine that Jimmy had called his twin right after the session; clearly she'd struck a chord. "Marla, give me a couple minutes, then send her down."

There was a pause on the line, " ... Very good, doctor."

Barrett scanned her desk and locked away any confidential material. She then opened her door and looked down the hall as Ellen, dressed in a dark-green suit, with a gorgeous amber and gold necklace around her throat, quickly approached.

"Dr. Conyors," she said, closing the distance, "I'm so sorry to interrupt this way, but I got a call from Jimmy, and he's freaking out."

"Come in," Barrett stepped back to let Ellen into her modest office. "Please, sit down."

"Thank you," Ellen said, clutching a russet-colored bag in her lap. "And thank you for seeing me on absolutely no notice. I'm so sorry. I was heading downtown when the call came; I had the driver double back. I've been parked outside ... I know," she said, catching Barrett's eye, "I must sound like a stalker, but it seems like half my life is spent looking after Jimmy. Could you tell me what he did?"

"I don't think he's been taking his meds," Barrett said, not wanting to prolong this. "I have to check. I sent the lab out to do bloodwork."

"I could just kill him," Ellen said, exasperated. "He knows the rules. What happens if the results come back and you're right?"

"It's not good," Barrett admitted.

"They'll send him back, won't they?"

"Probably."

"s.h.i.t! I'm sorry, it's just. d.a.m.n! What if I talked to him, read him the riot act, told him you'd be checking every week? Every day if you want. Would that work?"

"It might, but it's not my decision. Any time a rule gets broken, it goes to the board. They have the final say."

"When will you know ... about whether he's been taking them?"

"I should get the results this afternoon."

"Could you do me a favor," Ellen said, clicking open her pocketbook and pulling out her business card. "Call me when you get them. Here, let me give you my cell number."

As Barrett reached for the card, she noticed that Ellen's hand was trembling. "Are you okay?"

Ellen shook her head, struggling to keep her emotions in check. She looked at Barrett, her mouth contorted. "No," and then the tears came. "I can't believe this is happening," Ellen sobbed, her shoulders heaving. "I'm so sorry." She tried to speak, but her throat choked as she looked away, her eyes obscured by her perfectly coiffed blond bob.

Barrett watched, helpless in the face of Ellen's sorrow, and wishing there was something she could do. She pushed the tissue box across the surface of the desk, "Could I get you some water?"

Ellen nodded, trying to regain her composure.

Barrett stood, "I'll be right back," and leaving the door open, she headed to the vending machine.

___.

Ellen counted to three, turned her head to be certain that she was un.o.bserved, and reaching into her Prada bag pulled out a digital bug-a kind produced by Klift, a German subsidiary of Martin Industries that in addition to their pricey brushed-nickel kitchen appliances, manufactured munitions and high-tech surveillance equipment. It was this latter business, and its vast potential in third-world markets, that had fueled Ellen's surrept.i.tious stock acquisition and eventual takeover of Klift eight years earlier. One unantic.i.p.ated perk had been this easy access to the latest in surveillance equipment, which she'd used on numerous occasions to monitor the activity of compet.i.tors. Now, moving fast, she peeled off the double-sided tape and stuck the tissue-thin device to the bottom of Barrett's phone, where it appeared to be just another inspection label. Her pulse never quickened, even as she caught the sound of Barrett's return.

Clutching a wadded tissue, she dabbed her eyes, and turned as Dr. Conyors reentered the tiny office. "Thank you," she said, reaching for the blue-plastic bottle of chilled water. "I don't know what came over me ... actually I do," she admitted, while again taking stock of Barrett. "I know my brother is mentally ill ... I wish to G.o.d he weren't," she spoke slowly, wanting Barrett to see how filled with emotion she was. She took a careful sip of water, "He wants to have a normal life, but he doesn't have a clue how to get that. I'd like to see him have that chance." With tears tracking down her cheeks, she met Barrett's gaze, "Is that too much to ask for?"

"No, it isn't." Barrett held eye contact, "But we both know the rules."

Ellen nodded, took a deep breath and stood. "I should be going ... thank you. And Dr. Conyors?"

"Yes."

"I will make d.a.m.n certain my brother is taking all of his pills."

"Good," Barrett said, as Ellen reached for her hand.

"Thank you," and turning toward the door, Ellen felt the giddy light-headed glow of success, like closing a deal, or getting the inside jump on a juicy IPO. Dr. Barrett Conyors had all the right stuff, and before too long, she and little Jimmy would have everything their hearts desired ... or at least she would.

___.

Barrett felt rattled, confused, and a little sad after Ellen's impromptu visit. She knew checking Jimmy's bloodwork was the right thing, but after all the work that Ellen had put into getting her brother released, it was a shame. "Not your fault," she told herself, picturing the tall blond man, and remembering how being with him had left her frightened and uncertain. She took a deep breath, and turned back to her earlier dictation. A knock came at the door.

"Yes?"