CHAPTER THREE
The world was bright, sharp and full of colors. There were objects in space that did not have names. A girl was sprawled out over a couch. She tried to remember her name and her mind filled with a flood of images and sounds that meant nothing.
She struggled to her feet and stumbled across the space. There was a sound and she turned around. There was a man. His face was round with thinning white hair and a red bulb nose. His face cracked open in a wide smile.
"Irol? Era uoy thgirla?"
His words made no sense, but she knew they should make sense. It terrified her that she could not name the space she was in, the objects around her. She staggered back, retreating from the man and throwing her hands up.
He rushed forward and grabbed her arms, pining them to her sides.
"Irol!"
As she struggled with him her mind exploded with images, sounds and memories. A confused jumbled of things contradicting themselves. A dark haired man was laughing at her and shaking a bible. He said 'I tried to burn you alive! Who does that?'
She screamed as the world collapsed in darkness.
***
Lori woke with a pounding headache. Her eyelids felt like sandpaper, which went well with the taste of sawdust in her mouth. She struggled to sit up and found herself strapped down. The grogginess was replaced by the sharp clarity of panic.
She struggled against the ropes and cried out for help. She could move her head and look around the room. It was a large atrium, with a tile floor and two walls that consisted entirely of glass windows. White cotton sheets hung in the open frames and gently fluttered in the breeze. Beyond the windows she saw blue skies and palm trees. Closer by she saw a steel cart that held medical equipment. She realized she'd been fitted with a IV drip.
"Lori? Is that you?"
Lori twisted her head to find the voice. It was an older man, with receding white hair, and round, plump face. His nose and cheeks were red from too much drinking. He wore a white medical jacket.
"Am I in a hospital? Are you a doctor?"
"Yes Lori, I am a doctor. And no, you're not in a hospital. You're on Mr. Cryer's estate. How much do you remember Lori?"
"We we're on the yacht. I fell asleep and. I don't know. I think I had a nightmare."
Lori tried to raise her hand and was reminded of the restraints. The doctor immediately began to release them.
"What you had was a very rare and almost fatal reaction to mixing Dramamine and alcohol. We we're quite worried about you Miss Conrad. It was very touch or go there for a while, and you did a bit of sleep walking. I'm afraid you hurt yourself -"
Lori yelped as she sat up and felt a shock of pain. She gingerly touched the back of her neck, feeling a small gauze patch.
"As I was saying, you hurt yourself. Hence the restraints. You seem to be fine now. You can get up if you like."
"How long have I been unconscious?"
"Almost a full day. You're quite lucky that Mr. Cryer was able to return you to his home so quickly, and that he can afford his own personal doctor."
Rising to her feet, Lori wobbled for a moment and steadied herself by leaning on the doctor.
"I'm sorry, I feel a bit dizzy. What did you say your name was?"
The doctor held out his hand. "Alfred Joyce. Pleased to meet you."
Lori shook his hand. He had a strong, firm grip.
"The pleasure's mine Doctor Joyce. I guess a thank you for saving my life is in order."
"All in a day's work for the good doctor," offered Richard from the door. He was wearing cargo shorts and a polo shirt, with sunglasses perched on top of his head. Quite different than the suit and tie he'd worn the night before. He seemed far more confident and outgoing. She wondered if it was the clothes alone that made the man, or if there was something more. She realized she was staring at him and he was looking at her with concern. "How are you feeling Lori?"
"A bit, I don't know. Spacey."
He held out his arm and Dr. Joyce guided her to him. As she steadied herself against him, he began guiding her out of the atrium.
"You gave me quite a scare there. One minute we were discussing Atlas Shrugged and the next you're on the floor flopping around."
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, I probably shouldn't have had so much to drink."
"No, it's entirely my fault. I should have read the warning label on the Dramamine. I mean I almost killed you!"
Lori took in the house as they walked. It was done in the old English Colonial style, with large open windows that let in the light and tropical air. As they passed through the living room she caught sight of a broad white sand beach and blue-green framed by palms and a small garden of tropical plants.
"Where are we?"
"Oh this place? I picked this up a few years ago. Do you like it?"
"No, I mean is this Malibu?
"More or less. Do you want to go down to the beach?"
"I'm actually pretty hungry, can we go to the kitchen?"
"Sure, I'll have Kohia make you some breakfast."
Richard lead her to the kitchen, where a heavyset older latina woman was busy descaling a large fish. As soon as they entered she stopped to wash her hands, then almost immediately set out a pair of glasses and decanter of iced tea, which she poured for both of them.
"Mauri Mister Cryer, ko uara?"
"I'm very well Kohia, and yourself?"
"Ae kamanua, as well as can be Mr, Cryer. Who is your tahine friend?"
"This is Miss Conrad. Lori, this is Kohia. Kohia, Lori was hoping to get something to eat?"
"Oh yes, you wait here Miss Lori, I'll make you up something real good."
Kohia disappeared in the pantry as Lori took a seat at the large kitchen island.
"What was that language she was speaking? I thought my Spanish was pretty good, but I didn't catch a word of that."
"Oh, that wasn't Spanish, it was Gilbertese. It's only spoken by about a hundred thousand people. Kohai is Kiribati."
"Kiribati?"
"It's a small island nation in Micronesia."
"Oh, I thought maybe she was Brazilian."
"No, she's polynesian."
Lori blushed. "You must think I'm awful. Here I am just assuming that she's latino because she's part of the house staff."
Richard waved it off with a smile. "I'm not worried about political correctness, why should you be?"
"So where did you learn Gilbertese? Do you do a lot of business in Kiribati?"
"No, my father did though. He made his fortune mining the islands, and I spent a lot of my childhood here."
"Here?"
"Sorry, I meant there."
Kohia returned with a small basket of fruit and immediately began slicing it up and tossing it in a bowl. A dash of sugar and spices, a squeeze of lemon, and a minute later she placed the colorful bowl before Lori with a smile. Lori picked up a fork and lifted one of the many chunks of fruit to her lips. She thought it might be papaya, but she really didn't know.
"Lori, I'd like to ask you a question."
The fruit had a light flavor, which was complemented nicely by the sugar and lemon. Lori wondered if she was tasting pepper. Who puts pepper on fruit, she wondered, then decided it was delicious.
"Hmm?" she asked between bites.
"I know we've just met, and so far our time together has been unusual to say the least, but. Well. I think we've really made a connection. And I was wondering."
Lori looked at Richard. He was staring at the ground, contemplating his shoes.
"Yes?"
"Ah, would you like to spend the weekend? We can go down to the beach, take one of the boats out. Do you surf?"
"Surf? Oh my god, I haven't surfed in years!" Lori placed her hand on Richard's arm and felt a little electrical tingle. "I'd love to stay the weekend."
Richard eyes met hers and they both smiled nervously.
***
Boyd leaned against Topher's computer stack, watching him enter information into the computer.
"So tell me about this woman Echo thinks she is, tell me about Lori Conrad."
"Not much to tell. Pretty standard fantasy material. A little bit surf bunny, a little bit Orange Country republican housewife, a whole lot of daddy issues. I call it the Dagny Taggart Special."
"Dagny Taggart?"
"Yeah, all these rich money guys draw their fantasies from Ayn Rand. They all think they're John Galt, and they all want a woman who will tell them that."
"I'm not familiar with Ayn Rand."
"Your aren't missing much." Topher leaned back in his chair, a bemused smile on his face. "These guys, you know, they spend their whole lives trying to make money and have everything, all in the hope that some woman will like them for it. But the reality is women don't like men for their stuff. Women like men for much more primal reasons, the way a man smells, the timbre of his voice, the way he makes them feel. A man has to have personality, presence, to attract a woman. The money and power is just icing on the cake."
"But these guys, our clients --"
"All icing, no cake."
Boyd nodded, a bit surprised by Topher's depth. He shouldn't be. For all his eccentricities, Topher spent his whole life studying how people's minds worked. What made them tick. His insight into human behavior was impressive, though it made his lack of social graces all the more baffling.
Dominic opened the door to Topher's office and stepped to the side, holding it open as Adele DeWitt entered. Her jaw was set tight, a small frown resting on her lips. Victor and Sierra hovered outside the door. Victor seemed curious and confused, while Sierra simply stared blankly into space.
"We have a lead on Echo's whereabouts." Adele paced the length of Topher's office, and all three men watched her walk. "Cryer owns a small island in Micronesia, something he bought off the Kiribati government."
"Wow, very Dr. No." Topher looked around the room, waiting for a laugh. When none came he seemed disappointed.
"Yes," Adele finally offered icily. "Topher, you'll need to imprint Victor and Sierra with a full stealth insertion and rescue package. Make sure they have a working knowledge of the area and the language, and they'll need to be able to pilot a boat."
"Gotcha." Topher turned to his computer and began punching up different sets of data. "Two ninja pirates coming up."
"Boyd, she's your active so you'll be leading the mission. I want her back Boyd, right away. No one steals from the Dollhouse, I want that made crystal clear."
"And Cryer?"
Adele scowled as she considered Cryer. "I don't care. So long as he is never a problem for us again."