Chapter 10

Mark sat back in his chair, watching and listening in quiet support as Steve perched on the arm of the easy chair to wrap his arm around Jaime's shivering shoulders. ''I'm so sorry,'' he whispered again...and in answer, she tilted her head up and kissed him. ''Come over and sit with me?'' he asked. Together, they found a spot on the sofa and seemed to curl into each other for comfort. ''As soon as I felt myself getting...like that, I should've let Oscar do the interrogating and just taken you out of there,'' he told her.

''What happened, Steve?'' Jaime asked. ''I've never seen you like that before. In 'defense' mode, yes...but...''

''As soon as I saw his face, while we were still looking through the glass at him, everything he put us through - and especially what he put you through - just flew in my face like a...a swarm of bats. Like a bulldozer that ran me over...''

''When you asked Oscar to let you go in there,'' Mark wondered, ''did you know what you were going to do?''

''Pretty much. Yeah...I knew. I wanted him to be afraid - and to hurt- like we were. Doc, what can I do to shake off that feeling...if it happens again?''

''You can take a couple of deep breaths and then a couple more,'' Mark instructed, ''and talk to someone. To me...or to Jaime. Admitting to someone that you feel that way is like a pin prick in a balloon. Slowly but surely the air - or in this case, the anger - comes out. Talking about it is a safety valve; keeps everything from boiling over.''

''We don't even know if he might be a victim too...or if he's the one behind it all...but his face. I've never felt anger like that before,'' Steve admitted. ''What was the latest, before you left?'' he asked Mark. ''They gave him Michael's compound, right? Did it work - and do we know who he is?''

''Not yet. Oscar won't be able to question him until his head is completely clear and he's had a chance to sleep off the effects. So tomorrow morning at the earliest.''

''I think I know,'' Jaime offered softly. ''I think...he was telling the truth...that he wanted to see where his brother died.''

''What makes you say that, Sweetheart?'' Steve wondered.

''He had the same face as the man in the attic...but he didn't have the same eyes. The 'Drill Man' and the man who...the man on the roller coaster, the one I...killed...had the same eyes. Evil eyes. I saw him up close, both times.'' She shivered harder at the memory. ''I'll never forget those eyes...'' Jaime nestled even closer to Steve. ''The Drill Man and the Coaster Man...they were...the same person. And not the person in that room.''

They might not have planned on questioning him until morning, but the man in the holding cell was awake, alert and talking his head off - to Michael, the medics, the guards and anyone who came near. He didn't know where he was (or why) but he definitely knew who he was. Finally, Michael thought it was best to call Oscar back downstairs so what the man was saying could be official. Oscar brought Russ with him to witness and they turned on the tape recorder.

The man told an interesting story. He insisted his name was really Graham Kingsley...Grant's twin brother. He had studied in the States (mostly New York) but he had never been to Austria...or the Soviet Union. ''That would be my brother,'' he told them. ''Our parents sent him overseas - to Austria - to study because they just couldn't deal with him anymore.'' He related the same story about his twin tearing the wings off of a butterfly...and of finding Grant in the basement with a dead girl when they were seniors in high school. ''I never told anyone about that,'' he asserted, ''but my parents knew something was seriously wrong. Therapy back then wasn't what it is now, and Grant was able to charm his way out of hospitalization. So they sent him away. He was a genius, but it was sick genius. God, I wish I'd leveled with them - with my parents - and maybe he could've been forcibly put away.''

''Tell me about the mind control device,'' Oscar pressed.

''Mind control...it was something we kicked around in high school, a sort of science fiction what if. Nothing concrete or workable like an actual device.''

''Wrong,'' Oscar told him. ''One - or both- of you developed a device that does exactly that!''

''That's impossible!''

''What were you doing at the amusement park?''

'Graham' sighed. ''Grant called me after more than a decade. How he found me, I have no idea. But he told me where he was and that he was - and this is how he put it - going to bring it crashing down on all of their heads, especially Rudy Wells. He wanted me to come and watch the fireworks, he said. So I did; with a gun.''

''The gun was to help him carry out his plans?''

''The gun was to kill him! I had to stop him before he killed anyone else! Except I didn't make it.''

''You did make it. You were found in the park,'' Oscar scoffed. ''But you had no gun - so where did you stash it? Or did you give it to your brother?''

''Of course not! I wouldn't -''

One of the guards interrupted them. ''Excuse me, Mr Goldman - there are three people in your office who insist on seeing you immediately.''

''Tell them to come back tomorrow!'' Oscar snapped.

''They have information for you, regarding this case, Sir - and they said it was urgent.''

Oscar groaned inwardly. Whoever is up there had better have damn good information - a break in the case - or I'll have their heads! ''Russ, Michael,'' he instructed, ''don't let him say anything else until I get back.''

The three people he found in his office were Mark Conrad, Steve...and Jaime. ''Which one of you do I get to thank for interrupting an interrogation?'' he thundered.

Jaime stepped forward. ''Me,'' she said in a frightened but resolute voice. ''I have something that Mark and Steve feel you should know.''