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This is a work of fiction copyright Radical Gopher and may not be duplicated in whole or part without the author's permission. This story contains adult situations and should not be views by anyone under the age of 18.

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THIS WAY MADNESS LIES - part 3

Jillian woke at the first, soft rapping on the hotel room door. She looked around groggily. Bob was nowhere in sight. She rose, slipped on her bathrobe and looked through the peephole in the door before opening it for the bellboy.

"Good morning, Miss... I have your breakfast." He rolled a dining cart into the room and proceeded to unload several covered dishes onto a small folding table he'd brought with him. The smell of ham and eggs, hash browns, pancakes and a plethora of other foodstuff filled the room. He quickly finished and left, a small gratuity in hand. Jillian couldn't remember having ordered breakfast.

She closed the door and looked around the room, but could see Bob nowhere, not even in the bathroom. When she turned back toward the food however, she immediately noticed that a couple pieces of toast were missing. "All right," she chuckled. "Where are you hiding?"

"Nowhere really," a soft voice echoed in her head. "Just trying a little experiment, sort of a variation of psychic implantation; not unlike what we used on Mr. Archbury yesterday."

Jillian abruptly stopped looking and casually faced one corner of the room, smiling whimsically. "Let me guess. Getting people to believe they don't see you at all."

"Exactly," Bob replied. "I got the idea last night, from an old film I watched after you went to sleep."

"What film?" she asked, looking carefully around the room, then smiling to herself.

"Something called The Invisible Man... I think it was based on a novel."

"Yes, by H. G. Wells... I've read it, though you might want to rethink your idea some."

"Oh?" Bob responded. "Why's that?

Jillian crossed over to one corner of the room, reached up and patted the Kerachaw gently on the muzzle. "Because you forgot about your shadow."

The Outlander looked around behind him. Sure enough, he could see a faint shadow tracing itself along one wall of the room. "Oops," he muttered as he faded once more into sight.

Jillian chuckled. "It's a good thing the bellhop didn't see your disembodied shadow. It would have been difficult to explain away."

"I suppose we could have just blanked his memories and tossed him in a dumpster," the Kerachaw responded. Jillian gave him a rather grim look. "Kidding... Just kidding!"

"Right," she replied sardonically, sitting down and removing the cover from one of the dishes. She looked then slid the plate over towards Bob. "I think this is yours," she chuckled.

The Outlander gratefully accepted the triple portion of seven-grain pancakes and hot green tea. He didn't bother with butter, syrup... or utensils for that matter. He simply rolled each pancake one by one and ate them straight off the plate, one delicate chomp after another.

Jillian watched him for a moment. There was a certain comfort seeing the genuine delight Bob displayed when engaged in something as simple as eating breakfast. She took a quick bite of her scrambled eggs and leaned back while she chewed.

"So what's on the agenda for today?"

"We go visit a Mr. St. Gallen at UBS Limited, London."

Jillian raised her eyebrows. "You want to fly all the way to London?"

The Kerachaw shook his head briefly. "He's the American investment broker for UBS. He was making deposits for Archbury in a number of Swiss banks. If we can get the account information from him, we can cut Faulkner and his friends off from their source of funding. That should put a significant crimp in their operations."

"I see... No bucks... No bullets." She paused for a moment. "What would you do with their money... providing you could gain access to it?"

He smiled. "Oh, I was thinking of making a rather large donation to either the World Health Organization or Green Peace... Unless you had a better suggestion."

"Sounds like a good idea. Unfortunately it may already be too late," Jillian cautioned. "If I were running a clandestine organization, I would have made arrangements to shift my funds the moment anyone got to Archbury."

Bob nodded in agreement. "That would be the smart thing to do, however, if I understood Archbury's thoughts correctly, St. Gallen was the only broker he dealt with. Furthermore, St. Gallen was... What's the term? Kept out of the loop. Archbury told him the organization he represented was a private pension fund."

"And Archbury was the only person St. Gallen contacted?"

"As far as he knew... yes."

"So financially speaking," Jillian responded, "St. Gallen is what you might call a financial choke point."

"Choke point?" the Kerachaw asked, puzzled

"An area of weakness," she explained. "This could work to our advantage. In order to make any changes to their financial arrangements, Faulkner and company will have to arrange for someone to replace Archbury, and that will take at least a day, provided St. Gallen is a legit operator."

"He is, even though Archbury wasn't," the equine replied.

Jillian finished the last bite of egg then pushed her plate to one side. "So how do we get close enough to St. Gallen for you to do your mind-reading?"

"I've been thinking on that," Bob replied. "His office is near Wall Street and he keeps regular business hours, so there's no way I can approach him without being seen. There are just too many people. Night isn't an option because Archbury didn't know where he lived.

"So you can't get near enough to read his mind."

"No... I can't," the Kerachaw replied. "But you can."

* * * *

The mid-morning breeze caressed Jillian's legs as she strolled across the street towards the lobby of a rather imposing structure. The sensation was not uncomfortable, but it felt a bit strange. She had not worn a skirt and nylons for a long time, preferring jeans or dress pants in order to avoid having her appearance detract from the professional image she liked to project. Now however, a little distraction could be to her advantage. Any New Yorker watching might have thought her to be an executive secretary. Those of a less platonic mindset probably thought she climbed the corporate ladder horizontally.

A wolf whistle from a nearby cabbie brought a tiny smile to her face. It was rather flattering to know that she could flaunt it as well as the next girl, if she wanted to.

"I get the feeling that despite your earlier protests, you're enjoying this," Bob chuckled in the back of her mind."

"If I'm going to play a part, I might as well have some fun," Jillian thought back to him. "Besides, aren't you suppose to remain quiet while we're linked?"

"Actually, I don't have to remain quiet... you do. It wouldn't look good if you lost concentration and accidentally began speaking aloud when talking to me. People might think you're... What's that word again?"

"Schizophrenic," Jillian supplied.

"What you said," Bob replied.

"I'm still not sure leaving your body unattended in our room is a good idea. What if some hotel employee decides to ignore the Do Not Disturb sign on the door?"

"I think you're worrying too much," the Kerachaw thought. "Even if they did come in, I'm still behind a locked bathroom door. We're simply sharing a telepathic link. Neither of us is a Vethra. If need be I can break our connection any time and immediately return to my body. There really isn't much danger of my being discovered"

"Right..." muttered the young woman softly. "Talk about famous last words."

"Careful," Bob cautioned. "You said that last out loud."

"Sorry. I guess I'm just not use to this whole mind link thing. I mean last time we did it I was able to access your abilities. It gave me just a bit of an edge."

"Granted... but that was a matter of proximity. With our current link I can read and manipulate nearby minds but not much else, except keep you company."

"Well, at least that's something. What do you suggest I do if anyone overhears me talking to myself?"

"I recommend you flash them your best smile... and if anyone asks who you're talking to, tell them my name is Harvey."

Jillian had to stop and hold the briefcase she was carrying up in front of her face as she tried to control her urge to laugh aloud. "If you make me blow this, you are going to be so in it up to your ears!" she thought tightly.

"Point taken. No more banter."

"Good!" Jillian responded. Composing herself, she lowered the briefcase and strolled into the building. The building directory was just opposite the lobby guard's desk. The person behind it was a man in his late sixties with a nicely trimmed gray moustache that matched his hair. He smiled appreciatively at the red-haired woman.

"Anything I can help you with, Miss?"

"Thank-you, but no. I think I can find what I'm looking for here," she replied smiling. As she searched the directory she turned her thoughts back to the Kerachaw. "Can you do a quick scan of the immediate area for any threats?"

"Already finished. Nothing to report... except the guard wishes he were thirty years younger."

"Tee... Em...Eye!" Jillian thought as she found St. Gallen's name and suite number on the directory. Waving cheerily to the guard, she headed for the elevators and took the next one to the sixth floor. Upon exiting, she found herself in a richly, wood paneled hall leading to a receptionist's alcove. A young, auburn haired woman sat behind the curved desk and smiled at Jillian.

"May I help you Miss?" she asked brightly.

"Yes... I'm here to see a Mr. St. Gallen."

"One moment please." The receptionist quickly typed a few strokes on her keyboard and studied the screen in front of her. "Your name please?"

"Smyth... Jill Smyth."

"I'm sorry Ms. Smyth, but I don't see your name on Mr. St. Gallen's appointment list."

"Ask her to check again," Bob whispered in the back of Jillian's mind.

"I'm certain I had an appointment made for today. Could you please check once more?" she asked politely.

As she finished speaking, Jillian suddenly felt a soft, warm pulse wash across her mind. The receptionist stiffened slightly, then blinked and looked once more at her monitor. "OH! I'm sorry. Yes... right here! You do have an appointment I don't know how I missed seeing that." She quickly picked up the switchboard phone and tapped three numbers. "Hello... Mr. St. Gallen? Your ten-fifteen is here now."

Listening, Jillian could just make out the sound of a man's voice on the other end of the phone.

"My ten-fifteen?"

"Yes sir... A Ms. Jill Smyth."

"Funny..." came the voice. "I could have sworn I left my schedule open between ten and eleven this morning. "Well... if she's on the calendar just give me a couple of minutes then show her in."

"Yes sir." The receptionist replaced the phone and smiled up at Jillian gesturing towards a row of fabric-covered chairs off to one side. "If you'd like to take a seat, Mr. St. Gallen will see you shortly."

"Thank you." Jillian responded as she occupied one of the chairs. She relaxed, and then focused her thoughts. "You still scanning the area from time to time?"

"I will in a moment," Bob replied. "Right now I've got to concentrate on the receptionist. I don't want her to suddenly see our appointment ‘vanish' from the monitor before she closes that particular window."

"You know, it's rather fascinating to see you do your thing."

"My thing?"

"Yes... hacking minds instead of computers."

"Well, truth be told, it's much easier to hack a mind than one of your computers, at least for my people. There's no complex coding that has to be deciphered and redirected."

"Really?" thought Jillian. "What about language? Isn't that a coding of sorts?"

"Yes... but it is made up of concepts, each with their associative sensory inputs. Understand the sensory inputs, which are more often universal than not, and you understand the language. Computers are too stupid to have such sensory inputs, let alone the hundreds of interconnecting associations something as simple as a smell may trigger."

"Ms. Smyth?" called the receptionist.

"Yes."

"Mr. St. Gallen will see you now." She gestured towards a row of doors to the left of the reception desk. "Conference room A."

Jillian rose and thanked the woman. When she reached the door a buzzer sounded and it clicked open. Pushing it wider Dr. Strathern took three confident steps into the room.

"LOOK OUT!" a voice screamed in her head.

She turned and the two taser darts imbedded themselves in her shoulder instead of her chest. A violent jolt of electricity coursed through her, slamming her back against the partially open door. Her knees folded under her and she sank into blackness.

An eternity seemed to pass. Jillian couldn't feel, see or hear anything. Mercifully, there didn't seem to be any pain, but that was hardly a relief. She felt as if she were awaking from a dreamless sleep... or at least her mind was. When she tried to open her eyes or lift even a single finger there was nothing. She couldn't even tell if she was still breathing. It was as if her mind were separated from her body. It scared her. She wanted to cry... to scream... something, just to prove to herself she was still alive.

"Calm yourself," thought Bob quietly. "I'm with you. You have nothing to be afraid of."

"What happened... where are we?"

"They hit you with a taser, then injected something into you to keep you sedated. As to where we are... I don't know, aside from the fact we're being taken somewhere."

"You don't know?"

"Since were linked psychically, I can only see, hear and feel what you do. As you're unconscious I am effectively cut off from the world."

"How did this happen? Is this Faulkner's doing?"

Bob sighed mentally. "I can only assume this Directory was keeping closer tabs on Archbury's contacts then even he knew. When we tapped their money man, they probably put a tight watch on anyone he was connected with, whether they knew it or not?"

"The receptionist?" Jillian thought bitterly. "It could have been her; but no matter who it was we just walked into this one, didn't we?"

"Perhaps... but there's no reason for either of us to berate ourselves, that is unless you're really some kind of super spy and never told me. If anyone's at fault here, I am. I should have scanned the immediate area more thoroughly."

"Don't go there with the blame game, Bob. You were busy implanting false data in the receptionist's mind so we could get in. I think we can safely assume we're both working outside our level of expertise and leave it at that," she thought to the Kerachaw. Jillian paused for a moment. "How soon do you think you can mount a rescue?"

"I'm going to wait a while on that?"

"Why?"

"If I break contact with you and return to my body, I'll lose track of where you are. Finding you again would be like searching for a haystack in a needle... Wait... That doesn't sound right... does it?"

"I think I get the idea. If you continue to ride shotgun, we might learn something that could help us get out of this mess."

"Definitely," Bob replied, trying to sound as positive as possible. "Our advantage now is they do not fully know the extent of my abilities. A little patience might be worth significantly much more later."

"Agreed!" Jillian thought. "Just do me one small favor."

"What's that?"

"Don't wait too long before bringing in the cavalry."

TO BE CONTINUED...