Ben wondered how much to tell her of his experience on the trip, then realized that he didn't want to hold back from her--whatever resulted. "Did you notice anything unusual about Cartwright's movements when he paddled the canoe?"

       Joan peered at Ben quizzically. "Not really. He stayed in the front of the canoe, I noticed that."

       "Okay, I didn't see it at first either, then I became aware that every slightest motion he made with his paddle was a 'signal' to the person in the back."

       Joan retorted immediately. "What's that mean?"

       "Well, when I was in the back of the canoe with him if I duplicated each smallest detail of his motions I was able to steer and propel the canoe through a perilous bend without overturning the canoe."

       "There was only one canoe that overturned--mine. And the idiot who was steering was one of the 'guests' and insisted he was an excellent canoeist--the guy with the mustache."

       "The people in the back of the other canoes after your mishap," Ben said, "had evidently been on a canoe trip before. I was the only rookie steering in the back of my canoe. I hadn't canoed since I was a kid and it was very rough going. If I hadn't followed every nuance of Cartwright's motions, we would have overturned."

       Joan remained skeptical. "Maybe you were just lucky."

       They ate in silence for a few moments. "Is that what you mean by 'illuminating' experiences?" Joan asked him.

       "That and my noticing that Dr. Cartwright observed discreet scenes on the river as we traveled. It had all been a jumbled haze to me before I started paying attention to distinct settings, such as a water flower perfectly mirrored in the river."

       "Sounds like mumbo-jumbo to me," Joan retorted. "I don't mean to be insensitive, but those seem too ordinary to me to be anything momentous. Surely 'illumination,' if there is such a thing, would be an overwhelming culmination that would leave you dazzled."

       "Remember Cartwright's message on the bulletin board?"

       "Yeah," Joan replied, "but that seems like sophistry to me, no disrespect intended. That syrupy article about 'Beauty is a great and quiet teacher.'" She wrinkled her face in scorn.

       "You evidently see something in Cartwright that I don't. And to be honest, I'm not sure it's something you project onto him or if it's actually there. I thought that 'teaching session' we sat through was a bit precious, this Billy, the star pupil, spouting these astounding stories about God being everywhere. I was waiting for the organ music to start any moment. I hope you don't mind if I express my opinion."

       "No," Ben said quickly, "that's necessary. I have doubts too, but yes I guess I do see things in him that you don't. Whether they're my 'thing' or his is something I'm trying to figure out."

      When the two dozen or so people had assembled in the meeting room that evening, Ben noticed that Cartwright's wife was in attendance. Ben had met her at one of the earlier sessions he'd attended. Theresa Cartwright was a lovely, nicely-proportioned woman of about 55 he guessed, long blonde hair, and eyes which had seemed to Ben to contain infinite mystery.

       Cartwright began the evening session. "Research with new-born kittens placed in an environment composed entirely of horizontal stripes has shown that when they reach maturity they are literally incapable of seeing vertically shaped objects."

       "Humans with minds conditioned not to see subtleties perceive only what is obvious and banal. Two persons on the trip today saw almost nothing of what actually occurred. One of these is a person who has been conditioned by an appalling experience with religiously rigid and controlling parents, to see almost nothing spiritual. The other person saw only what he had been ordered to watch by his guru. He had been told to observe me as a political entity, trying to figure out how I 'control' my hapless dupes."

       "I point out the perceptual deficiencies of these two people not to embarrass or belittle them, merely to illustrate how we all have 'blind spots' which it's necessary for us to discover and rectify."

       Joan squirmed in her chair next to Ben and he wondered if she would say something.

       Cartwright continued. "In reference to the second of these persons, it's necessary this evening to make it clear to you, George," he looked at the fellow with the mustache that Ben had noticed on the trip, "that I do not take offense at your coming here as a spy for your guru but that your subterfuge must now end. I allowed you to continue attending some of our sessions as a way to provide the opportunity for some of the students to discern who you really are."

       The fellow with the mustache got up quickly and started to leave. Cartwright delayed him by rising and handing him a sealed envelope. "Please keep this sealed. It's a message to your guru which says essentially that I am sending you back to her with my compliments for having such a loyal disciple."

       The man stalked out of the room, his face a mask of rage.

       After he had left, Kate asked, "Is it appropriate that we know who his guru is?"

       "A woman who has set herself up as a spiritual counselor slash psychologist in Rohnert Park, primarily feeding on aggrieved women and emasculated men. She had written asking if she could attend one of our sessions and when I didn't reply to her message, she sent her spy to try to figure out how I keep my victims brainwashed, as she would put it.

       "She is a woman suffering from profound psychological disorder who conditions her victims to feel hatred toward anyone they imagine has wronged them. She trains her followers to lash out at anyone with the excuse that they are being honest when in fact they are merely being indecent." He paused. "The spy from Ms. Modern Guru has actually been a boon to our enterprise because several of you students were able to discern something amiss with the spy and learned a great deal from him in terms of how not to behave."

       "What will happen to the spy?" Jamila asked.

       "What would you surmise?" Cartwright asked the group.

       "I predict the woman guru will cast him out because now she can't be sure of his loyalty, since you gave him such a glowing recommendation," Kate said.

       "Yes," Cartwright replied. "And I predict that some of you students will find it quite a challenge to avoid inflating your own sense of importance or satisfaction in having seen the unreliability of someone else."

       Cartwright now turned toward Ben. "Because of what you achieved today on the trip, I would approve your moving to Healdsburg if you agree to all the conditions attached."

       Ben wasn't prepared for this, but he felt elated that he'd be closer to Cartwright geographically. "Yes, what are the conditions?"

       "First," Cartwright began, "you will live in Healdsburg where you'll commute to Santa Rosa Junior college if you get teaching assignments there."

       "Okay," Ben agreed.

       "Second, you will apprentice yourself to a man named Walt Berman who is a butcher in Healdsburg."

       Ben wondered at that. "Fine," he agreed.

       Cartwright looked around at the group. "Does anyone have any questions of Dr. Hamilton?"

       Billy stood up. "Are you certain you want to give up the prestige of your position at the Washington agency? You'll essentially be a nobody in this community whereas on the east coast you have a wide reputation."

       Good question, Ben thought to himself. "I've thought a great deal about this," he said to Billy, "and it seems the right thing to move here to be closer to the enterprise." He felt a little strange using the term which Cartwright used: "enterprise."

       Joan was visibly irritated. "Why in the world would you give up an excellent position working for a widely recognized agency to demean yourself as a butcher's apprentice?"

       "Well, I wasn't aware until just now," Ben replied, "that that would be a stipulation of my moving here. But I don't see that as a problem."

       "You don't see that as a problem?!" Joan roared. "What part of being a factotum to a meat cutter doesn't strike you as a problem?" She was beside herself. She glared at Cartwright but said nothing further.

       At that moment, a commotion was heard outside and as the group turned toward the door to the meeting room, Lyman Gorgon burst into the room with three of his henchmen in tow. It was clear that this was a new Gorgon, a man swollen with his own self-importance. He was now the de-facto ruler of the country--through his puppet, Binkley. He actually swaggered as he strode into the room

      Cartwright stood quickly and asked in an even voice. "What can we do for you?"

       "Oh there's quite a lot you will do for me," Gorgon sneered at him. "First of all," he looked at everyone in the room, "you can all sit down and not cause any problems." He looked at his three underlings as they arranged themselves at equal distance from one another to watch everyone in the room.

       Gorgon gawked at Ben and Joan. "I see you have some of your Washington flunkies with you tonight." He nodded insolently at Joan and Ben. "Well I'm here to command you to heal one of their friends," he hesitated, "and an associate of mine as well: Angela Wilson Binkley."

       Cartwright now sat down, still looking at Gorgon. "I understand Mrs. Binkley is in a coma and isn't expected to live," Cartwright said. "What do you expect me to do about that? I'm not her physician."

       "Well, you'd damn sure better become her healer if you know what's good for you!" Gorgon clamored.

       "You ordinarily control people to do your bidding through creating your computer profiles," Cartwright said, "why the new strong-arm tactics?"

       Gorgon was somewhat taken aback by the question. "Because," he admitted, "I wasn't able to find much that I could use to manipulate you." He paused, then looked at Cartwright's wife. "But then I realized that the way to manipulate you was by threatening to harm your wife. Maybe even killing her if you made that necessary." He sneered at Cartwright.

       Theresa Cartwright immediately stood up and faced Gorgon with a determined look on her face. "You can't really threaten someone who's not afraid to die," she said evenly.

       "If you're not afraid to die, are you at least afraid of pain?" Gorgon strode toward her and slapped her with his left hand, causing her to fall to the floor.

       Instantaneously, Gorgon let out a shriek and fell to the floor, grasping his left arm with his right, crying out in pain. The three flunkies rushed to him, helping him into a chair, looking around the room to see if anyone had done something to him.

       "My damn arm, it's paralyzed!" Gorgon screamed.

       Cartwright walked over and helped his wife to regain her seat, speaking to her tenderly. He said to Gorgon, " You'll find that any further aggression toward anyone in this room will result in even further lack of function in your body. Hopefully, a useless arm that strikes women will be enough of a lesson to you."

       Gorgon nodded to two of his bully-boys and they grabbed Cartwright and stood him upright between them. "Now," Gorgon spit at him, "we'll see who's in charge here." He nodded to one of the ruffians who hit Cartwright with a sweeping blow to the abdomen.

       As Cartwright fell to his knees from the blow, Gorgon screamed at the top of his lungs and fell out of his chair onto his knees. It was evident that now both his arms were paralyzed.

       "You bastard!" Gorgon shouted at Cartwright. He motioned to one of his henchmen. "Grab his wife!" To Cartwright he bellowed, "You either cure Angela or you'll never see your wife again!"

       As the brute grabbed Cartwright's wife, Gorgon doubled over and screamed again. His entire body lay in a ruin, every part of his body paralyzed but his larynx which shrieked in pain. The three henchmen glared at Cartwright in bewilderment. Two of them hoisted Gorgon off the floor and began to carry him out of the room, the other one dragging Theresa Cartwright by the arm, brandishing his pistol at the group. Theresa glanced back at her husband and mouthed the words, "Don't worry."

       Cartwright rushed out of the room and onto the porch to get in front of Gorgon as he was being carried from the house. "Gorgon, listen carefully to what I'm saying. You are the cause of Angela's malady, only you. And you alone can bring about her cure if she is to live. Remember that!"

       With that, the goons put Gorgon and Theresa Cartwright into the stretch limousine and drove away with a splattering of shale as the wheels spun.

      Cartwright returned to the meeting room where the group was in disarray. "We have a lot of work to do," he said, "so I must now say goodbye to our guests." He walked out of the room.

      Ben and Joan flew back to Washington later that night.

      "What in the hell was that all about?" Joan said to Ben as they settled into their seats in the plane. "I've never seen anything like it in my life. That impotent mouse of a man, Cartwright, allowing his wife to be beaten and kidnapped right in front of him!"

       "My god," Ben retorted, "did you expect him to go up against a man with a gun?"

       "Yes," Joan spit, "as a matter of fact I did." She glared at Ben. "I give up on your guru. Can't even protect his own wife." She turned to the window to ignore Ben.

       That's it with her, Ben thought to himself. I'm glad I'm moving to Healdsburg, perhaps I can be of some help now that this has happened. What a horror for Cartwright.

      Ben called the Healdsburg center and asked to speak with Cartwright. Ben inquired about Theresa, asking Cartwright if there were something he could do to help. "I appreciate your concern, Ben," Cartwright said. "Let me assure you that everything is being done that is necessary. And Ben, the situation is not as bad as it seems, so don't be unduly concerned."

      Ben had been planning his move to Healdsburg for some time; he'd given notice to the Agency a month ago. Upon returning to Washington, he quickly called a moving company to pack his belongings and ship them to Healdsburg. He'd rented an apartment in Healdsburg earlier. He packed a couple of bags with things that would tide him over until the rest of his stuff arrived.

      In Healdsburg again, he drove his rental car to his new apartment and told the manager he was moving in immediately and that his furnishings would arrive in a few days. Then he drove to Cartwright's rural estate.

      As he approached the driveway to Cartwright's house, he saw a police car blocking the drive and a DEA officer waving him to stop.

The uniformed officer was speaking to his superior at the house. He barked at Ben, "What do you want here? This place has been seized by the DEA and will be sold under laws of forfeiture." He glared at Ben.

       "I'd like to see Dr. Cartwright," Ben said.

       The officer glowered at him. "Are you one of his cult members? What's your name?"

       "What's happened to Dr. Cartwright?" Ben insisted.

       "If you're one of his disciples you're in real trouble," the officer threatened. "That charlatan and all his flunkies are in jail where they belong. We found enough heroin on the premises to feed the habit of a whole city." He paused and glared at Ben. "If you know what's good for you, you'll get the hell out of here and stay away."

      Ben drove away quickly, dazed and bewildered. In Healdsburg, he drove to the butcher shop where he was to begin his apprenticeship the next day. Walt Berman met him at the door, introduced himself, then returned to the back room where he continued cutting T-bone steaks.

       "Have you heard what happened to Dr. Cartwright?" Ben asked him.

      "Yes, we're working on a solution," he said to Ben, hardly glancing up from his work. "You're not involved right now."

      "Well, isn't there something I can do to help?" Ben asked.

      "We may want you to take some things to Cartwright in jail; I'll let you know later."

       Ben was amazed at the butcher's equanimity in the face of this catastrophe. After learning from Walt what time to report the next day, he drove to the Healdsburg town square where he bought a paper and read it while he had a cup of coffee in Sally's Cafe.

       The newspaper story said that Cartwright and his cult members had been part of a drug manufacturing ring. The DEA had seized three hundred pounds of heroin at Cartwright's cult center and had taken him and all his disciples to state prisons. The entire estate was now under forfeiture because of having been used illegally in the drug trade.

      As Ben was finishing his coffee, the officer who had been at Cartwright's estate strode in and grabbed Ben by the arm. "There's someone wants to see you." He dragged Ben out of the restaurant. Parked in front was a specially designed SUV. The DEA officer shoved Ben into the back. Gorgon was strapped into a wheelchair in the specially-built vehicle. Ben could see that Gorgon was still paralyzed.

      "You're going to take a message to Cartwright for me," Gorgon spat at Ben. "Tell him if Angela isn't fully recovered by tomorrow at 7 PM then his wife dies an excruciatingly painful death. Got that?"

       Ben nodded. "Where is Cartwright?"

       "We're holding him in the Santa Rosa lockup for now," Gorgon said. "His flunkies are rotting in state prisons."

       "Isn't your paralysis sufficient proof that you can't beat Cartwright?"

      "You idiot," Gorgon jeered. "I've already got doctors working on my condition. And I've got Cartwright strung up on three federal injunctions. I'm going to auction off his estate, keep him in jail, and kill his wife if he doesn't cooperate. I guess that says who's beating who."

       "Why don't you speak to him yourself?" Ben asked Gorgon.

       "Because every time I get near him, my pain becomes unbearable. I don't know how that witch doctor does it."

       They drove Ben to the Santa Rosa police station and ushered him into the lockup facility. He was allowed to enter Cartwright's jail cell.

       Cartwright seemed pleased to see him. "Have a seat in my new home." He smiled.

       "Gorgon wants me to tell you that if Angela isn't fully recovered by 7 PM tomorrow, your wife will die an excruciatingly painful death. I'm sorry to bring you this."

       "Oh, it's what I expected. Now at least I've got a means of communicating with him. Remind him of what I told him, that he alone can save Angela. I can do nothing. He's the cause of her malady and he must effect the remedy."

      Cartwright looked intently at Ben. "Tell him that unless he releases my wife immediately, he'll suffer the ultimate penalty. Make it clear to him in these precise words that he is bringing all this on himself; that I am merely a conduit that brings his recompense to bear. My wife must be freed by this evening at 7 PM or he will die by the morning at 7 AM."

      Wow! Ben thought to himself. "Okay, is there anything else?"

       "Not now. I'm in communication with my wife and the others, so we know where we stand."

       Ben wasn't sure what that meant, but he hurried out of the jail cell, shaking Cartwright's hand as he left.

      "So what did he say?" Gorgon asked as soon as Ben had re-entered the SUV.

      "This is what he said: You alone can save Angela; he can do nothing. You are the cause of Angela's malady and you must effect the remedy. Unless you release Dr. Cartwright's wife by 7 PM this evening you will die by 7 AM tomorrow morning. You are bringing all this on yourself; Dr. Cartwright is merely a conduit that brings your recompense to bear. You must free his wife or you will die."

      Ben watched Gorgon's eyes as they gleamed with rage. He began to cough uncontrollably and the man sitting in the right front seat quickly came back and began to attending to him. He was evidently Gorgon's doctor.

       Finally, Gorgon recovered from his coughing fit. He shouted at the driver, one of his henchmen who had accompanied him to Cartwright's house, "Tell them to release Cartwright and take him to his estate. Tell the DEA to clear out of there. Have Cartwright's wife returned to the estate. You get that?" he shouted.

       "Sure," the goon replied and got out of the SUV to pass Gorgon's commands to the others.

       As they were returning Ben to Healdsburg, a call came on the cellular phone in Gorgon's SUV. "Put it on the speaker phone," Gorgon shouted.

       "Yes, this is Major Tulley, DEA. Am I to understand that Cartwright is to be released?"

       "Yes," Gorgon spat. "That's what you're to understand. And do it immediately, do you understand?"

       "Yes, sir," the major replied.

       As they neared Healdsburg a second call arrived in the SUV.

     "This is Sal. Joey says you want the dame released? I just want to make sure."

       "Yeah, that's what I want? Got that? Is that too difficult? I want you to drive her back to her home. And Sal, she'd better not have any bruises on her other than the ones I gave her, you understand?"

      "Yeah, boss," the goon replied. "She's okay, just sits there with her eyes closed. Thinkin' or somethin' I guess."

      "Get her home right now you buffoon!" Gorgon shouted.

       "Okay, okay." Ben could hear the man say as he rang off.

      As they neared Sally's Cafe, Gorgon sat in a heap, saying nothing. He looked hesitantly at Ben. "Will you ask Cartwright if I can visit him?"

       "Sure," Ben replied. He wrote down Gorgon's number. He got out of the SUV and returned to his car, then immediately drove to Cartwright's estate. This time there were no DEA agents blocking the drive. The place was in a shambles, windows torn from the frames, carts overturned, doors ripped off their hinges.

      Ben hesitated about going into the house, so he waited outside, picking up some of the scattered debris and rehanging shutters which were swinging askew. It was not long before a Santa Rosa city police car pulled up in front of the house and Dr. Cartwright got out. The police car sped away.

       "Did you hear what's happening with my wife?" Cartwright asked Ben.

       "I heard Gorgon give the order for her to be released and returned here as soon as possible."

       "That's a relief," Cartwright said. "They did a real job on the place, didn't they?" He looked again at Ben and Ben suddenly remembered.

       "Oh, Gorgon asked if he could visit you? He gave me his number."

       They went inside and Cartwright uprighted a couch and several chairs in the living room. He picked up a cell phone and asked Ben, "What's his number?"

       "Gorgon," Cartwright said, "I understand my wife is on her way home?" He listened for a moment. "I want all my associates released immediately and returned poste haste. And, Gorgon, I want a clean-up crew here within the hour to put my home and compound back in its original order, is that understood?"

      He listened for another moment. "You will have a press release sent to all major news outlets today indicating that all charges against me have been dropped and that the whole thing was an error on the part of the DEA, acting on a false tip. When all is returned to its proper order I will call and you can come here to speak to me." Cartwright placed the cell phone back on the desk.

       Mrs. Cartwright arrived shortly in a blue Mercedes which sped away as soon as she got out. Cartwright rushed to her and embraced her warmly, gazing at her with deep affection. "I'm okay, Franklin," she said sweetly.

       Ben drove back to Healdsburg, stopping at a supermarket to stock up on food before going to his new apartment. He was scheduled to teach an evening psychology course at Santa Rosa Junior College which would begin in two week. Tomorrow he would start his "day job" as apprentice to Walt Berman, the butcher. I can understand why Joan would be so upset about my working for a butcher. To her it seems like a totally demeaning job. But if Cartwright has assigned me to do this, there must be something beneficial in it, Ben thought to himself.

       Even so, he was doubtful about his new situation in life. He had been able to save enough so he didn't have to worry about money for some time. His part-time teaching salary would be enough to meet his expenses.

       Early the next morning he drove downtown and had breakfast at Sally's Cafe. Somehow he wasn't surprised to see Billy Peterson sitting at the counter when he entered. He took a stool next to him. "How was prison life?" Ben asked, joking.

       "Hey, the food there was better than this," Billy said, making a face at the man behind the counter who suddenly took his breakfast from him. "Okay," Billy said, "I take it all back." The waiter returned the plate. Everyone at the counter was having a great time badgering Billy about being a convict.

       "Why don't we move over to a booth?" Billy said to Ben. Then to the others at the counter, "There tends to be a lower element eating at the counter." He smiled and a couple of guys punched him on the arm in jest. Ben and Billy took their breakfast plates and coffee cups over to a booth where they could have more privacy.

       "So you start your new job today," Billy said to Ben.

       "Yeah, I don't have any idea what to expect. "

       "It'll be interesting I'm sure," Billy said, "and since Cartwright assigned you to that job then it will provide plenty of opportunity for you to learn, you can be sure."

      Ben drove to the butcher shop on Main Street, parked, and was surprised that Walt was
again at the door to welcome him. They shook hands and entered the shop. A young lady whom Ben had seen at one of Cartwright's meetings was arranging meat in the showcase as Ben entered. She smiled at Ben. "There's an apron for you back here," Walt said, motioning to the back of the shop.

       A young man was cutting meat when Ben entered the large room. There were a number of cutting tables in a row, a grinding machine in the corner, and counter space on the sides where the meat was wrapped. At the front of the room on the wall close to the ceiling was a large placard.

      Walt noticed Ben reading the Zen story. "I'm glad you came early. I want to go over a few things to start. Come on over here." He was standing next to a cutting table which had a banana on top of it.

      He peeled the banana and held it up for Ben to see. "Everything organic is made in hidden segments just like this banana." Walt placed his index finger on top of the banana and very slowly pushed down through the top. The banana split into three natural segments as Walt pushed further downward. He then put them back together again to show Ben how they formed the banana. "Meat is exactly like this banana. It contains natural segments. Note that my finger didn't rip the segments; it went through the space between them. Our job in cutting the meat is to find the razor edge between the segments." He looked at Ben to see if this was registering.

       "Finding the space between the segments, a good butcher has to sharpen his knife infrequently."

       Walt pointed to a large chart on the wall. "You'll need to familiarize yourself with the different cuts in a beef steer."

      Over the next several weeks, Ben settled into a routine with his part-time teaching on Tuesdays and Thursdays, apprenticing with Walt each weekday from 7:30 AM to 5 PM, and reading and sleeping and generally hanging out at his new apartment. He learned more about top sirloin steak, brisket, rolled rump, and shank cross cuts than he had ever wanted to know.

      For several weeks he hadn't been invited to attend the Thursday evening sessions at Cartwright's compound. Finally, Walt informed him that he was invited to the next Thursday meeting. Ben wondered why he never saw Walt at any of the meetings.

      Ben had been reading the newspapers diligently and was pleased to see the announcement that a terrible mistake had been made in arresting Dr. Franklin Cartwright and his associates. No mention was ever made of the kidnapping of Mrs. Cartwright.

       Ben was also pleased to find that Cartwright's estate was back in shape again as he drove in and parked. His curiosity was aroused when he spotted two stretch limousines in the parking lot. He wondered if Gorgon was here. He spotted Kate on the porch and took a moment to chat before going in to the meeting.

      "Greetings, fellow voyager," she said cheerily. "I understand your lady friend isn't quite ready to do obeisance to our High Master."

       Ben wondered if there was an undertone to her frivolity.

       "No," she said, seeming to read his mind, "I'm not dissing Joan--or Dr. Cartwright. You'll learn to take my joking with the grain of sand that's intended. I wouldn't be here if I wasn't finding what I wanted."

       "I guess I'm at least getting what I bargained for," Ben opined.

       "Yes, the apprenticeship period can be extremely challenging." Kate grinned.

       "Oh," Ben perked up, "did you do an apprenticeship too?" This would be interesting, he thought.

       "I think everyone does. I apprenticed with a white Southern hair dresser in Santa Rosa for six months." She smiled at Ben. "You can imagine that I had my work cut out for me."

       It was time for the session to begin so they both walked into the house and through to the meeting room. Ben was surprised to see both Gorgon and Green in the room. Neither of the men was looking at the other, though it was clear that they were very much aware of the other's presence. Gorgon was in a wheelchair, one of his louts standing behind him.

       From Green's face it was clear that this was not a pleasant experience for him and Gorgon was trying his utmost to appear super cool.

       Mrs. Cartwright was sitting across from Ben and Kate. She smiled warmly at them.

       At 8 PM sharp, Cartwright entered the meeting room and took his usual seat. He looked directly at Gorgon. "Most everything has been returned to its original order," he said. "I want a more formal apology from the DEA released to all news media, indicating that the 'evidence' was planted and it was entirely their mistake." He looked at Gorgon solemnly.

       Gorgon waited for him to continue, then realized he was supposed to say something. "Okay," he blurted out. "I'll take care of it."

       "Now," Cartwright continued, "you've requested the opportunity to speak with me."

       Gorgon stared at the nearly two dozen people in the room. "Well, I thought we'd be able to speak in private."

       "Oh no, I never suggested that. If you want to speak to me then it will be in this setting."

       Gorgon coughed, then cleared his throat before beginning. "I want to do whatever it takes to bring Angela back to health."

       "Your only concern is a purely selfish one: Angela's affliction is negatively affecting your control over Binkley, your President-puppet, who's behaving erratically."

       Gorgon erupted in a coughing fit and his henchman rushed out of the room and returned with a glass of water. Gorgon took a sip and appeared to regain his composure. "All right, I admit most of that's correct." His voice lowered and he spoke more softly. "But I also care for her and I want her to live."

       Cartwright gazed at Gorgon for a moment. "Her malady is the direct result of the depraved psychological stranglehold you have on her. She detests being the wife of Binkley, even though you've managed to find him some substitute sexual playthings. She's lost all hope of leading a normal life because she's obsessed by her mixed feelings for you and realizes that you'll continue to manipulate her as long as she's alive."

       "My god!" Gorgon gasped. "That can't be true!"

       "Don't play stupid, Gorgon," Cartwright retorted. "You're aware that what I just said is true. But you're possessed by the desire to manipulate as many people as you can."

       For several minutes the group sat in silence.

       "All because of a dad who beat the living hell out of you when he first caught you in bed with his maid-concubine. A demoniac-parson-papa who locked you in a root cellar for three days, who physically and psychologically abused your mother till you finally beat him to within an inch of his life before you left home never to return."

       Gorgon sat in silence.

       "The only hope for Angela is if you psychically release her once for all."

       "But she's in a coma," Gorgon protested.

       "Call her hospital room right now."

       Gorgon looked at his flunky and the man pulled a cell phone from his pocket, dialed the number, then held the phone to Gorgon's ear.

       "Is this Dr. Standler?" Gorgon asked. "She's what?" He glanced at Cartwright with bewilderment. "When did she come out of the coma?" He listened. "Just now? Uh, well, put the speakerphone on so she can hear what I have to say." He waited until the arrangements were made.

       "Angela?" Gorgon spoke in a loud voice. "I want to tell you something important. I'm aware that you can't go on as Binkley's de facto wife; we'll get you a divorce and get you out of that nightmare. Okay?" He hesitated. "What's she saying, doctor?"

       "Okay, crying is probably good right now." He spoke in a loud voice again. "Angela, listen, I'm sorry for what I've done to you. I want you to have your own life apart from me. I know I've done horrible things to you and I apologize. Do you understand?"

       Again there was a pause.

       "Yes, I can hear you," Gorgon said to Angela. "Yes, you can believe it. I'll help you set up whatever life you want for yourself--apart from me. We'll talk about it when I get back tomorrow, okay? All right, now take it easy. Dr. Standler is the best there is and he'll see that you get whatever care you need. Okay, I'll see you tomorrow. Goodbye."

       Only a few people in the room noticed that Gorgon took the phone with his left hand and put it in his pocket. It didn't even dawn on Gorgon until he had done it. He stared at Cartwright in bewilderment. Suddenly he realized he could move his other arm, then his legs. He slowly rose from the wheelchair and looked back at it as if were a foreign object.

       The room was deathly still.

       "My god!" Gorgon shouted. "I can walk again!" He marched around, flinging his arm athwart, celebrating the regained use of his limbs.

       "I feel like Ebeneezer Scrooge," Gorgon bellowed. "I don't know who the hell I am?"

       Then a quizzical frown appeared on his face. "I really have to figure out who I am."

       He gazed at Cartwright, unsure of what to say to him. "I don't know how you did that, but I'll give you anything if you'll teach me how to perform such marvels."

       It was clear to Ben that the leopard had not completely changed his spots. Here was something of the old Gorgon rearing its ugly head.

       "Can you hear yourself?" Cartwright asked Gorgon.

       "What do you mean?" Gorgon asked in amazement. He couldn't see how Cartwright could be anything but pleased at what he had said.

       "You want the power to perform 'marvels' so you can be powerful."

       "Your only chance," Cartwright continued, "is if you make drastic changes in yourself so that your greed for power doesn't continue to possess you like an evil demon."

       The enormity of what Cartwright was saying struck Gorgon like a physical blow. He sat back down in the wheelchair. "I honestly don't know how much I can change," he said to Cartwright.

       "That's a very good beginning," Cartwright replied. "An honest answer. Of course, you don't know now. You're the product of a lifetime of bizarre experiences where you've become power-mad, literally."

       Cartwright stood up and went over and shook Gorgon's hand. "But you've made a fine beginning in what you did with Angela just now. You knew just what to say." He looked him in the eyes. "You don't have to be the victim of your past. You can do whatever you want to."

       Gorgon was at a loss as to what to say or do. He looked about the room at the people who had observed this extraordinary occurrence, a wry smile on his face, wondering what they were thinking about him. It suddenly occurred to him that for the first time in his life it really didn't matter if he had made a spectacle of himself. So what if he had appeared like an idiot. Now a genuine smile beamed from his face and he felt a glow within.

       He looked intently at Cartwright. "Thank you." Then he motioned to his assistant to fold up the chair and they returned to the limousine and drove away.

       Cartwright walked over to Kate and whispered something in her ear, then he and Mrs. Cartwright left the room arm in arm.

       Kate stood and announced to everyone that the meeting would reconvene in twenty minutes.

       Kate took Ben's arm and led him out of the house and down toward the small stream that ran by the house. The mist from the stream hovered above the water and the scent from the eucalyptus trees filled the air. In the distance an owl was asking its eternally unanswered question. Ben didn't want to talk about what had just happened. He didn't want to intellectualize, just let everything sink in. Kate seemed to understand and she remained silent.

       They sat down on a wooden bench and gazed up at the stars twinkling through the tree leaves. The quiet murmur of the stream provided a delightful undertone to the setting. Ben breathed deeply of the forest-laden air.