Free Sweet Mercy by Naomi Stone

sequence as she punched in a number. “Got that?” He sub-vocalized the query to David.
    “Yep. I’ll have them reverse the image, slow it down, extract the number and see if we can track the device she called.”
    “Good.” Fluke turned away from Mabel as she replaced her phone in a copious handbag. Still addressing David, he went on. “Any new word from Rachel and Tom yet?”
    “No. I’ve still got Rachel’s position at the ashram. I’m on my way home for the night. I can stop off there and check on her.”
    “Fine. Maybe I’ll check out those Bingo games Mabel’s been telling me about.”
    “You do that.” David signed off with a chuckle.
    ~ * ~
    Tamara’s cell phone rang out a sequence of Tibetan temple bells. She drew it from a woven holster she wore slung across her shoulder and answered, “Yes?”
    She listened for a moment, then moved to the chair beside Rachel and held the phone to her ear. “He wants to speak to you.”
    “Hello,” Johnson’s oily voice at her ear. “How’s my little empath doing?”
    “Not very empathetic for you, Johnson. What do you have to say for yourself?”
    “You have no idea what I’ve been through,” the man growled at her. “Don’t you judge me. And don’t call me Johnson. The world wrote Johnson off a long time ago. I’m Mesmero now.”
    Mesmero? The man was certifiable, making up a whole new identity for himself. Getting rid of the people he blamed for destroying his old life was probably a part of the psychosis. She’d bet they had a name for his condition. Not for the first time, Rachel wished she’d gone on to college, studied psychology. Maybe if she lived through this…
    “All right, Mesmero. Why are you calling? You’ve got me trussed up where I can’t do anything to stop you.”
    “I want to give you a little demonstration of my powers.” The voice came thin over the phone, yet still menacing, “And then I’ve got a proposition for you. Put my puppet back on the line.”
    “I don’t think so,” Rachel continued in conversational tones. She couldn’t imagine any good coming of letting Tamara hear what this madman had to say. “But thanks for calling.” She quickly spoke to Tamara. “He wants you to turn your phone off now so no one else can call us on it.”
    Obediently, Tamara pressed the button to shut down her phone and set it aside on the table. Rachel permitted herself a flicker of satisfaction. So far, so good. Apparently that hadn’t countermanded any direct order ‘Mesmero’ had given Tamara, and her friend retained enough will of her own to play along with the assertion that the shut-down order had come from the puppet master. Unfortunately, she didn’t dare try testing any of his direct orders by countering them in the same way. The risk to Tamara would be too great.
    An old style ring tone sounded nearby, beyond a door probably leading to the kitchen.
    “Don’t answer it!” Rachel twisted, struggling to turn to follow Tamara as her friend rose, heading toward the sound.
    “I’m supposed to answer the phone if it rings.” Tamara didn’t even turn back to her as she spoke. In a moment the ringing cut off and Tamara returned, holding a cordless land line phone to her ear with one hand and a paring knife in the other. She seemed to be listening intently, then held the new phone to Rachel’s ear.
    “Okay, smart girl,” Mesmero spoke fiercely. “Watch this.”
    Tamara set the phone on the tabletop in front of Rachel, then picked up the paring knife and calmly drove it into her own thigh.
    “No!” Rachel screamed. Tamara, usually so sensitive to Rachel’s projected feelings, seemed oddly unaffected—to both her own physical pain and Rachel’s distress. Blood surged out around the blade’s handle, protruding from the denim of Tamara’s jeans. The fabric grew dark. Rachel winced again as Tamara pulled the blade out and the blood flowed more freely.
    Tamara held the phone to Rachel’s ear again. “Shall we