Free Raga Six (A Doctor Orient Occult Novel) by Frank Lauria

his boot. "Well, Doc," he said amiably, "how’d we tally?"  
    "Our bank is at plus 6,074 dollars as of today." Orient took a slip of paper from his pocket and handed it to Joker. "And we’re carrying 11,900 in bets through Sunday. If everything works out, you should make a good profit over the weekend."  
    Joker stared at the paper. "Eleven grand?" he muttered. "How come so much?"  
    "Your friend Basil called in seven thousand on the basketball game."  
    "Basil?" Joker’s usually laconic manner became tense. "You shouldn’t have taken it, Doc."  
    "Why not? He took it at the spread. Six points."  
    Joker shook his head. "You couldn’t have known, Doc, but the only time that tinhorn Basil lays down more than a grand, he’s got an edge. He must know somethin’." He began pacing the floor.  
    Orient waited for him to make up his mind. Finally Joker looked up. "Nothin’ else to do except lay it off. We got about three hours. Let’s get on the horn, and I’ll show you how smart money protects itself."  
    Orient tried to be attentive as Joker showed him his system for protecting the bank, but he was distracted by the memory of the naked girl at the storefront. He waited patiently while the cowboy placed small portions of Basil’s seven thousand with small bookies in New Jersey and Brooklyn. He listened as Joker explained how to get the best point advantage, but through the entire process his mind kept drifting over to what he’d seen that afternoon. And it always came back with the same conclusions.  
    "Well, that’s that," Joker said after a solid hour and a half on the phone. "We’re clear. But it slowed me down plenty. I got a date with a private proposition uptown I don’t want to blow."  
    Orient was relieved. He didn’t want to be late for Gregory’s meeting. He wanted to make sure of the Circle’s exact function.  
    The phone rang again and, as Joker turned to answer, Orient went into the other room. Julian was asleep on his bed in the corner and Sun Girl was sitting next to him on the floor, reading a script. She looked up and smiled. "You execs work late."  
    Orient nodded. "The price of inexperience. I still have some things to see about. Maybe you shouldn’t wait up."
      "All right," she yawned. "I have an early audition anyway, and want to look alert. Don’t forget to get yourself something to eat."  
    Joker whooped from the bedroom, then strode inside and beamed triumphantly at Orient. "That was a pal on the phone. The word’s out. No more action on the basketball game. We just got in under the wire."  
    "Nice work," Orient said, trying to sound interested. He was still wondering what he could expect to find at Gregory’s meeting.  
    As he walked to the meeting, Orient told himself he was probably overestimating Gregory’s Circle. Still, the signs were there. Thor the god of thunder, Isis the goddess of light, Kali the goddess of destruction. All ritual names. And the seven-pointed star hanging behind the curtain. The Star of Babylon. All of it indicated the same thing: some sort of occult experimentation.  
    The possibility had him worried. He had concentrated most of his research on having telepathy recognized as a formal scientific technique. But while in Tibet, he had learned the leverage of the occult sciences as well. Enough to understand that psychic energy should be used with caution. He shook his head. He was going out on a limb. The most likely probability was that Gregory and his friends were indulging in some harmless playacting.  
    He remembered Gregory’s wife trembling and trying to speak, and a small knot of anxiety pulled around his thoughts.  
    The street where the storefront was located was deserted, but Orient noted the two chauffeured limousines parked in front. They looked immaculate and out of place in the shabby, tenement neighborhood. He crossed the street and tried to open the door. It was locked. He knocked. No answer. He knocked louder. Thor opened