The bell.
“Where was the sound located, Philip?”
“I don’t know.” No hesitation. But he does know. And he could direct Dr. Szands to it himself. Almost.
“Are you afraid of needles, Philip?”
“No.”
“Large crowds?”
“No.”
“Loud sounds?”
“No.”
“How about this sound?”
Szands reaches to the second T-700D and presses play. Before he even hears it, Philip starts to feel sick.
“Turn it off.”
The bell.
“Does this sound scare you?”
“Turn it off, doctor.”
The bell.
“Where was the sound located, Philip?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why do you believe in ghosts?”
“Turn it off!”
Szands turns it off. Philip looks to see if the doctor got sick from it. But Szands, his upper half in shadows, his arms and legs emerging from what looks like solid tar, isn’t giving anything away.
“Why do you believe in ghosts, Philip?”
“Because I saw one, dammit.”
The bell.
“Where?”
Philip doesn’t answer.
“Where, Philip?”
“In the desert.”
The bell.
“You saw a ghost in the desert?”
“I saw a hundred ghosts in the desert.”
The bell.
Philip is crying now. The questions, the list of fears, the sound …
The bell.
“Where was the sound located, Philip?”
“I don’t know.”
“You do know.”
“I don’t know, doctor!”
But he does.
“Philip, this test isn’t designed to elicit true or false answers from the subject. The test is supposed to give us a clear understanding of whether or not a man has any secrets. And whether or not he’s keeping them.”
“I’m not keeping any secrets.”
“But you are.”
But he is.
“Now, Philip, you have a choice to make. You can either play dumb or play smart. And the longer you play dumb, the longer I’ll have to simmer. And you don’t know me well enough to know where that might lead. Do you understand? I may be a doctor, but that doesn’t mean my only concern is your well-being. There are many other people on this planet, Philip Tonka. So play dumb or play smart. Get to it or suffer my simmering. Now. Tell me about the ghosts. Tell me about every one you saw. And when you’re done … tell me where the sound is located. Every turn you took. Every door you opened. Every nightmare you encountered on the way.”
You won’t be alone, of course. That wouldn’t be any good for anybody.”
A silent soldier is driving the brown express van. Mull is sitting in the passenger seat, but he’s turned almost entirely toward the Danes, who occupy the two benches in back.
“Three others will join you. A photographer named Jonathan Stein. He’s a spectacular photographer, especially at close range. Uses a mobile dark room. You’ve also got a soldier who knows the history of the area. Private Gordon Greer. And of course, a platoon leader, a veteran of World War II as well. Sergeant Billy Lovejoy.”
“Lovejoy?” Larry asks.
“Yes. You’ve heard of him.” This is not a question.
“Who hasn’t? Lovejoy was a legend in basic training.”
“The bogeyman,” Ross says. “The Mad Blond.”
Mull smiles.
“He’s deserving of every nickname you can give him. Bogeyman certainly works. He’s also a brilliant and patient tactician.”
“What do we need that for?” Philip asks. “We’re not going to war, Secretary.”
Mull tents his fingertips.
“No, you’re not. But that doesn’t exclude danger. It never does.”
Philip can feel Duane’s uneasiness beside him.
“I saw Lovejoy in action once,” Ross says. “He was wearing clown makeup while he punished his platoon. That’s a true story.”
Mull smiles again.
“He’s an interesting man, no doubt. And absolutely the right one for the job.”
“Did he lead the first two teams out?” Philip asks.
“No.” Mull shakes his head. “Nobody has returned to Africa. Nobody who went there for this reason.”
The driver carefully takes a sharp turn and the tarmac and plane come into view. A second brown van is approaching from the other side of the concrete.
Mull is removing documents from a briefcase. He hands them to Philip.
“Please, take one of these and pass them along.”
Philip does. He’s looking at a photo, an aerial view of the Namib Desert. Behind the Danes, packed into a small trailer hitched to the van, is all their gear, supplies, clothing, bedding, etc. Ninety percent of the space is occupied by recording gear, top-line stuff that the Danes have dreamed of owning for their studio. Two Ampex model 350 quarter-inch two-tracks. Five Behringer ECM8000 condenser mics. Three RCA 88-As. An Electro-Voice EV C100. Four GPP 73 preamps. A rare signature Glasgow eight-channel mixing console. A Koz Copicat echo chamber. A Boris 5 compressor. Two 678 Michael governors.
