Immune (The Rho Agenda #2)(120)
As he lifted himself onto a concealed branch that provided a nice armrest, Eduardo pulled the Swarovski EL 10x32 binoculars from a cargo pocket on his trouser-leg. They were easily the best compact binoculars in the world, perfectly waterproof and nitrogen filled so that they never fogged, even in the Amazon. Eduardo loved them, especially now that Swarovski had removed the slight golden bias present in the lenses of earlier models.
Aiming the binoculars at Jennifer’s balcony, Eduardo adjusted the focus. The white French doors were open wide, embracing the spectacular view of the gardens and mountains on the north side of the estate. An outside sitting area with a small round table and two deck chairs sat immediately above and to the right of the patio where Eduardo had met the startling young lady. From this angle Eduardo had a clear view of almost the entire bedroom beyond.
Jennifer Smythe still lay asleep beneath a sheet on her bed, the heavier covers having been turned back by the servant who had carried her up to her room. The bedroom was as Eduardo remembered it, having stayed there in one of his previous visits to the estate. A wicker reading chair and coffee table sat across the room from the bed, near the door that opened in from the second-floor hallway. One thing that had changed was the oak desk on which a laptop computer sat open, the screensaver’s multicolored fractal lines cutting a swath across the blackness.
Eduardo shifted his eyes to the sleeping girl. Almost as if she felt his gaze, the girl’s sleeping form shifted. Stretching her arms high above her head, a smile crept onto her lips. Then with a start, Jennifer Smythe sat straight up. She continued to sit there, her stillness interrupted only when she leaned forward and puked in her own lap. He continued to watch as Jennifer jumped out of bed, wadded the sheets, dumped them into a pile and disappeared into the bathroom.
Eduardo smiled, remembering the feel of her fear as their minds had touched. She gave good head a whole new meaning.
Spending much less time in the shower than he would have expected, Jennifer reappeared, wrapped in a white robe. She moved quickly across the room, opened the closet, and although the closet door partially obscured his view, it seemed that she pulled something from a high shelf, possibly a suitcase or large bag.
Whatever she was after did not take her long to find, and the change in her face as she reemerged from the closet was clear. She had entered in a panic of intensity, but now the girl radiated hope.
Jennifer paused, tossed something onto the coffee table and plopped into the wicker chair. Again, Eduardo adjusted the binoculars’ zoom and focus.
A narrow, three-quarter loop of metal or shiny plastic lay on the coffee table. What was that? A headband? Shifting his gaze back to Jennifer, Eduardo saw that she held a similar band, gazing raptly down at it. Then, inhaling deeply, she slid the band onto her head, positioning it more like a military headset than a young girl’s decorative headband. The analogy wasn’t exactly right. The ends of the band were positioned over her temples, not her ears, but the intent looked the same.
Once again Jennifer’s expression underwent a remarkable change, the worry lines in her face disappearing as he watched. Her brown eyes remained open, but the look became distant. It wasn’t that they lost focus. Instead, they focused on something that only she could see.
For the next forty-seven minutes, Jennifer Smythe remained in the chair without moving, the relaxed intensity of her expression unchanging. Then, like you’d get up from a movie as the theatre lights came on, Jennifer arose from the chair, removed the headband, and deposited it and its twin back in the hidden container in the closet.
Dressing with a purpose and alacrity that Eduardo would not have believed possible only a few minutes before, the young lady walked confidently out of her room, closing the door behind her.
Without hesitation, Eduardo pocketed the binoculars and dropped from the tree, sprinting toward the house along a path that avoided the garden. He emerged from the woods between a free-standing six-car garage and the servant’s entrance. Two white-coated cooks raised their eyebrows questioningly as he moved through the kitchen, but upon seeing who it was, returned quickly to their business.
He passed through a pair of swinging doors into the narrow service hallway and opened the first door on his right. Taking the stairs two at a time, Eduardo paused only momentarily before stepping into the second-floor hallway.
Finding it empty, he walked to Jennifer’s door, twisted the knob, and stepped inside. After closing the door behind him, he moved to the closet. Eduardo pulled the twin slatted doors open, flipped the light switch, and stepped inside. The closet was a large walk-in, a small assortment of clothes hanging from only one of the four available clothes racks, the emptiness adding to the closet’s apparent size.
Glancing up, he could see a single charcoal-colored suitcase on the top rack. Eduardo lifted it down, setting it gently on the closet floor. The suitcase was divided into two compartments with three zip-up pouches for holding shoes and accessories. Both main compartments were empty, but in the second of the accessory pouches he found what he was looking for: the mysterious headbands.
Sitting cross-legged beside the suitcase, Eduardo selected one of the bands, running his fingers over the entire surface. It appeared to be metal, but not of a type he recognized, its surface refracting light in a way that gave it the illusion of translucence. The material flexed, but gave an impression of great strength and durability.
Could it be an artifact? His mother had spent her adult life looking for magical Incan artifacts, studying photographs and drawings of ceremonial pieces. But those had all been complex designs. These bands were elegant in their simplicity. Could one of these have produced the apparent trance he had watched Jennifer slip into?