Hidden in Dreams Read online

  The plane waited. The pilots might have known why their three passengers arrived ninety minutes late, or perhaps the wary look they gave them was their customary manner of greeting SuenaMed executives.

  Elena opened her eyes when Jacob touched her shoulder and asked if she wanted something to drink. Suddenly she was very thirsty. The police had given her a cup of the most awful coffee she had ever tasted. She asked Jacob for a tea with milk and several sugars. He must have heard the raw timbre to her words, for he said he would see if they had any honey.

  He returned and set down a china cup and saucer embossed with the SuenaMed logo. He settled into the seat across the aisle. The oversize plush chair was white doeskin leather. Jacob used both hands to hold his own cup. He stared at the blank flat screen on the wall in front of his seat for a time, and then said, “You saved my life.”

  She watched the faint trembles ripple across the surface of her tea and took a sip. It was warm and sweet and went down easy. She sighed.

  “I didn’t want to contact you, of course. I felt as though I was dragged kicking and screaming to the only avenue that offered any sense at all to the situation.”

  Bob Meadows slipped into the chair behind Jacob. He did not speak. He just listened. His face was as white as the butterfly bandage on his forehead, where he had been struck by a flying rock. His wife and children were at their cabin in the North Carolina mountains where he was scheduled to join them the following week. Bob’s fear was a palpable force. He did not so much sit in the seat as quiver.

  Jacob went on, “Your entire premise rocks my world. The first time I read your book, I was furious. Your perspective on human behavior originates from an entirely different direction. You use dreams as a reason to draw in . . .”

  When he stopped, Bob Meadows nudged him in the arm. “You might as well say the word, buddy.”

  Jacob did not speak.

  “God,” Bob Meadows said. “The divine hand. The one at work with us this evening. I for one can’t stop praying right now. Giving thanks for the chance to draw another breath. Watch my children grow up. Hold my wife . . .”

  Elena watched Jacob reach down and touch the lever to unlock his seat. He swiveled around to where he faced her across the aisle. Jacob pretended not to notice as his friend struggled to regain control. He said, “If I insert an invisible force into human behavior, my entire professional world is demolished. By saying that one word. That is why I resented needing to make contact. No matter how great the need. Because . . .”

  Bob Meadows’s voice was both hoarse and overly deep, as though he had been the one screaming. “Your desire to measure human faculties is not wrong. It is crucial. The science of psychology depends upon identifying all components of the human psyche that are quantifiable. The mistake lies in claiming that everything about human life can be measured.”

  Jacob Rawlings was drawn around against his own will. His gaze looked haunted.

  Bob went on, “It is not your professional life that is challenged. That is a mask. It is your personal life. It is the way you see yourself. Alone and independent, standing at the pinnacle of your career, beholden to no one. The same internal forces that have kept you single and flitting from one lady to the next are the precise same reasons why you find Elena’s perspective so threatening.”

  Jacob tried his best to offer Elena a mocking smile. “We’ve been having this same argument since college.”

  Elena watched the two men and felt an immense rightness to the moment. She sipped from her cup and decided it was time to share what she had been pondering since arriving at the police station. “We’re missing something.”

  Jacob asked, “You mean, about the attack?”

  “This plane,” Elena replied.

  “What about it?”

  “How much do you think it costs?”

  “A Gulfstream Five, top of the line, looks brand-new.” Jacob shrugged. “Twenty, maybe twenty-five. Why?”

  Bob Meadows said, “Twenty-five million?”

  “What did you think, thousand?”

  “Man, whose life did you drop in on?”

  “The Discovery Channel has three of them. Not as nice, but hey, after a while they’re all just another limo with wings.” Jacob turned his attention back to Elena. “Go on.”

  “It’s not just the plane. It’s everything to do with Rachel Lamprey.”

  Bob asked, “Who?”

  “She’s the SuenaMed exec who got us this ride,” Jacob said impatiently. “Let the lady finish.”

  Between sips of her tea, Elena related how she had come to know Rachel, and about the initial contact. The first patient, her own dream, and the mounting pressure Rachel had exerted. “All the while, her company is bearing down on their biggest product launch in decades.”

  Jacob snapped his fingers. “Sure. SuenaMind. I’ve been reading about this. It’s huge.”

  Bob asked, “Rachel Lamprey is responsible for SuenaMind?”

  “She is the senior product director.”

  “So what is she doing, working on this dream issue?”

  “That is exactly my point.” Elena drank again, or started to, then noticed that her cup was empty.

  Jacob rose and took it from her. “More honey?”

  “Please.”

  He swiftly returned. “You’re saying Rachel Lamprey is behind the attack tonight?”

  “I’m saying it’s a vital issue. We’re all clinicians. We’re trained to look in the direction that our patient does not want us to go. See beneath the surface.” She paused for a sip. “The attack happened with pinpoint accuracy. They knew about the meeting with the senator. Whom did you tell?”

  “Me?” Bob Meadows shook his head. “Not a soul. Not even my secretary. That was part of my arrangement with the senator.”

  “Jacob?”

  “I phoned my office before we left for Miami. I’ll miss appointments tomorrow morning. But I didn’t tell them about the Ritz.”

  “The only person I contacted was Rachel. I didn’t tell her where precisely we were headed, just that we were driving to Miami for a meeting.”

  “They could have followed us down,” Jacob said.

  “Perhaps.” Images of the attack flashed through her mind. She set down the cup, her stomach suddenly very queasy. “They were probably waiting for us to emerge with the car, then decided hitting us on the sidewalk was even better.”

  “But why would Rachel demand you become involved in all this, then set us up for an attack?”

  “That,” Elena replied, “is the first question I intend to ask.”

  • • •

  The plane landed at Orlando’s second airport, the one closer to downtown. They were met by a limo and a nervous young aide who apologized for Rachel’s absence, but she had become tied up in a meeting that would go on for hours more.

  The aide drove with them to the Renaissance and saw them checked into a trio of suites. The three of them bid one another a weary good night. Jacob and Bob were busy on their cell phones as they let themselves into their rooms. The next day was Saturday, so Elena had no need to check in with the college. No one waiting for her at home. No one who might worry over where she had been, or was going.

  She filled the bath and used the plastic vial of bath oils. The water was spicy and inviting. She felt her muscles gradually relax in the heat. When the water cooled she bundled herself into a fluffy hotel robe and slipped into bed. She could feel the little jerks of tension pull at her muscles. It was unlikely she would sleep well, or for very long. She was glad merely for solitude and safety.

  Her questions danced in the dark room. She decided that Rachel Lamprey was not behind the attack. It made no sense to plan an assault and then place the expensive corporate jet at their disposal. Yet Elena sensed that the woman was somehow connected.

  Elena’s ability to search beyond the unseen had aided her greatly in any number of cases. Then as now, she could not say anything until the evidence was gathered. No pa
tient’s treatment could be based on hunches. But the value was still there, for these intuitive thoughts often pointed her in the right direction. And that was what she sensed now.

  It all came down to the dreams. And her own next step. The prospect of what awaited her was wrenching.

  Elena carried the sense of dread with her into sleep.

  • • •

  Saturday morning, a tall man in a dark jacket bearing the SuenaMed logo stood outside Elena’s suite when she opened the door. He nodded a silent greeting and watched as she knocked on the men’s doors. He accompanied them downstairs and waited while they bought clothes in the hotel’s shopping arcade. The only time he spoke was to say that they should charge all of the items to their room.

  Breakfast was an elegantly grim affair. The restaurant was jammed. All attention remained fastened on the televisions positioned around the walls. Elena’s throat still felt raw, and her words carried a resonant burr. She ate slowly, and the news congealed her breakfast into a viscous lump.

  For once, the newscasters had lost their professional brightness. They replayed images from the previous day, when the British financial panic had spread to two other High Street banks. Police had been called out in London, Manchester, Edinburgh, and Birmingham. The lines were forced into angry order. The people inside the banks jammed the counters and crammed their pockets and briefcases and purses with loot. Like they were robbing the place, rather than taking out what was theirs. The prime minister and the Bank of England chief both assured the public and pleaded for calm. No one listened. Bank stocks on Wall Street and London plunged. A red ticker tape below the newscaster relayed data from stock markets in the Far East. Elena did not see the numbers, only how the red ribbon pulled them all closer and closer to oblivion.

  A uniformed driver came in and said their car was ready. They left the restaurant and passed through a lobby filled with more silent people and echoes of television news. They rode together in silence.

  The SuenaMed headquarters was a gleaming white block set like a crown jewel in the middle of its very own campus. The grounds were beautifully maintained, a velvet display of lawns and flowers and blooming trees. The limo was waved through the main gates and pulled up in front of the entrance, where Reginald opened Elena’s door and said, “Rachel is waiting for you upstairs.”

  They swept through the lobby so fast Elena caught only a fleeting glimpse of backlit photos and awards and elegance. The elevator whooshed them up to the sixteenth floor, three from the top, and opened into a lobby. The receptionist’s desk was a curved artwork of blond wood. Reginald snapped his phone shut and greeted Elena with “Perhaps your guests would care to wait here?”

  “No,” Elena replied. “They would not.”

  Reginald started to object, then saw something in her face that changed his mind. “This way.”

  He led them down a short hallway to a corner office, where he knocked and opened and ushered them inside. “Elena has arrived.”

  Rachel glared at the two men. “Who are they?”

  “With me.” Elena seated herself. “Dr. Jacob Rawlings, Dr. Bob Meadows, this is Rachel Lamprey.”

  “We need to talk, Elena. Alone.”

  “It is not happening. Nothing is, without these two at my side.” Elena burned her with a look. You want tough? No problem.

  “All right. Fine.” Rachel planted her elbows on the desk. “Are you finally ready to fulfill your destiny?”

  “Not until we get some answers.”

  “The clock is ticking. The world is waiting. You need—”

  “Why is SuenaMed involved? I’m not talking about you. I’m speaking—”

  “I know what you mean. And I can’t answer your question with strangers present.”

  “What would you call me? We’ve known each other all of three days.”

  Rachel’s head canted slightly, as though inspecting Elena through a new framework. “The attack must have shaken you more than I thought.”

  “Thank you for bringing up the attack. I want to know what role SuenaMed played in this. And why you won’t answer my question.”

  Rachel studied the three of them in turn. “Dr. Jacob Rawlings I have at least heard of. This other gentleman . . .”

  “Dr. Meadows is a practicing clinician in the Miami area,” Jacob replied. “And my closest friend.”

  Elena added, “And has a patient who has been experiencing the dreams.”

  “A patient with considerable power on the national stage,” Jacob finished.

  Rachel rose to her feet. “Wait here.”

  • • •

  Rachel returned fifteen minutes later and ushered them up to the top floor. The penthouse was designed as a separate structure, a palace of power and wealth. The ceilings were impossibly high, the sounds muted. The furnishings caught the light and shimmered. People rushed by, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpets, their conversations swallowed by the vast chambers and the hushed air.

  Elena found herself distanced from it all. She knew the answers were coming, and they would alter the course of her life. Of this she had no question.

  They were brought into a lavish outer office and invited to sit, offered coffee or anything else their hearts might desire. Privacy, Elena wanted to say. A chance to pray and heal and find a clear way forward. But even here, in the elegant silence, she could hear the clock ticking. Out beyond the polarized glass, the world waited for her once again.

  Trevor Tenning, CEO of SuenaMed, was everything that old money should be. His hair was silver, his grip solid, his smile perfect. His tan gleamed, his suit fit perfectly. His every gesture carried a smooth sense of his own self worth. He had worn his power so long he considered it his birthright.

  Only the shadows beneath his eyes belied the inner turmoil.

  He ushered them across the pair of Persian carpets to a sofa set by the corner windows. They looked out over all of Orlando, the tall spires, the emerald forests, the glistening lakes. Rachel seated herself on the sofa beside Trevor. Reginald remained standing.

  When they refused his secretary’s offer of coffee, Trevor waited until the door to his vast office clicked shut, then said, “Rachel assures me that I can rely on your complete confidentiality.”

  “Dr. Rawlings and Dr. Meadows are both practicing clinicians, and hold to the same professional oaths as myself,” Elena replied. Now that they were this close to answers, she found herself increasingly impatient. “Either you trust us or you don’t.”

  “You are right, of course.” He planted his hands on his knees and declared, “I have been having the most dreadful dreams.”

  Bob Meadows huffed his shock. Jacob exhaled softly. Elena only nodded.

  “You do not seem surprised, Dr. Burroughs.”

  “It is the most logical answer,” Elena replied. “Your company is facing a critical juncture. And yet the director of this huge new product’s development is given free rein to spend the company’s money. On dreams.”

  “I understand you knew Ms. Lamprey’s sister.”

  “Miriam was my best friend.” Elena glanced at the polished woman seated beside the chairman. Rachel belonged here, she decided. Just as much as Miriam had been suited to the sunlit rear porch of her Victorian home on Notting Hill. Elena swallowed a sudden lump of longing for all that once had been, and said to the woman, “I’m surprised you shared this.”

  The chairman responded, “Rachel and I share a great many things. She and I have been through a number of bruising battles since my arrival here four years ago. She is my right hand, and I would like to think a very dear friend. It is only natural she would share with me about her family.”

  Rachel spoke for the first time since entering the office. “Trevor knows about Miriam’s books.”

  “Yes indeed. Do you have them?”

  “They are locked inside a safety deposit box in London.”

  “Pity. I would so like to see them.”

  Rachel said, “You don’t think th
ey might be of assistance to us now?”

  Elena saw Jacob’s frown of confusion and said, “I will explain later.” To the pair on the sofa she replied, “I carry images in my computer. The answers we require are not there. At least, not yet. But more importantly, it is not the book at all. But the power behind the book.”

  “You are speaking of your God.”

  “He is yours too.”

  Even his nod carried a smooth polish. Even his words, “It would certainly be comforting to know there is a divine hand that is planting these seeds. Perhaps the terror would be easier to bear.”

  Rachel shifted impatiently on the sofa. “I hate how my sister is winning here.”

  The chairman turned slowly to her. “Winning?”

  “All my life I fought against the clutches of my family. The history. The traditions. The faith. While still at university, I became determined to make a success of my life, on my terms. No one else’s. Dreams were part of everything I despised. The obsession. The link to a past where women were enslaved. I am my own person. I have shaped my own personal destiny. Not some invisible deity.”

  Elena asked, “Do I look enslaved to you?”

  “No,” Rachel almost spat the word. “Only misguided.”

  “Then why,” Elena asked, “did you come to me?”

  Rachel glowered at the onyx table between them and did not speak.

  Trevor Tenning cleared his throat. “The real question before us is, what do we do now?”

  Elena nodded slowly. She knew the time had come. “You brought me here because you already know the answer.”

  Bob said, “I don’t understand.”

  Elena found it easier to respond to a fellow clinician. “Trevor Tenning is filled with the same urgent need as me and all the other dreamers. He has to tell the world.”