Free Watson, Ian - Novel 10 by Deathhunter (v1.1)

           After
the toast Resnick drew Jim aside, down through the junipers to the stony shore.
                 “How’s it going, then?’’
                 How
was what going? Jim’s
adjustment to Egremont after his life in the city? Or
the Weinberger affair?
                 Not
one to fudge an issue — as he believed that Mary-Ann might well have fudged one
previously, with all her sweet enthusiasm — Jim opted for the second
interpretation.
                 “I’m
making good contact with Nathan. That part’s fine. But the man has some pretty
fierce obsessions. He certainly isn’t going to bow out gracefully until he has
a chance to work them through. He has to purge himself of the causes of the
murder.”
                 This
was, perhaps, an optimistic assessment.
                 “Could
you be a bit more specific?”
                 “Not
at this stage, if you don’t mind. I might still be getting a partial picture. 1
might distort his view of things if I tried to put it into words so soon. Pd
certainly distort my own view of him.” “Quite right, Jim. But he hasn’t got much time left. He mustn’t . . . simply die.”
                 “Unredeemed?
Don’t worry, we’ve got several weeks — and with
someone really listening to his point of view ...”
                 “And
playing along with it? He’ll hang on?”
                 “I’m
sure he will.”
                 “Is
it wise to play along with major delusions?”
                 “Sometimes
we play along with the delusion of an afterlife,” said Jim.
                 “That
isn’t his delusion ... is it?”
                 “It
might be involved. Pm not sure yet.”
                 “A
dying person must face the truth of death.”
                 “But
to resist Nathan’s delusions at this stage would be to alienate him. It would
harden his shell. He’d retreat.” And at that very moment Jim made up his mind
about Weinberger’s abandoned deathtrap. The cage had never been intended as a
sexual playpen at all. It was precisely what Weinberger said it was. And Jim
made up his mind, too, about what he would do with it.
                 “I’m
going to play along with Weinberger all the way. By doing that he’ll realize
that the way leads nowhere. He’ll turn aside, on to the true path.”
                 “I
really hope so. I hope he can appear in public, a little before the end, as ...
a changed person.” Resnick waggled his fingers. “We’d be discreet. He wouldn’t
be traumatised or set back. It’s because of what he did, and the echoes he set up — do you see? I know it’s unusual. But if some clients
can share their death experience in seminars, well, we’ll hold a small public
ceremony, of reconciliation, eh? In effect, he’ll become Norman Harper. He’ll take Norman ’s place. That’ll cancel out the tragedy.”
                 “We’re
still some way off that happy day.”
                 “Okay,
Jim, handle it any way you like. You have carte
blanche from me. Just get Weinberger there. This is important. Norman was a major figure, and for him to be
cheated of his death by somebody in our care ...”
                 Resnick
waved his hand, emphasizing a whole lake of importance. The mercury river had
withdrawn into the sun, which was about to slip behind a hill. Looking across
the lake, Jim thought of the intense feeling of identification, of oceanic
unity, which he had experienced when he drowned. Once, in Gracchus during their
mimicry of the death encounter, he had recaptured that blissful feeling.
                 ‘Shall
I really help Nathan build a cage for Death?* he wondered. There was an odd and
slightly ugly fascination in the notion. It was an absurdity, rather as though
a modern chemist