Doorways   And   Stairways

 

 

 

          "I might be able to help you clarify these questions," Brad Vincent told some new residents of McCall Circle neighborhood.  One of these residents was Derek Lindsey.  He heard Brad's voice as it came from electronic apparatus in the basement of the Lindseys' new house.  He'd heard the voice before and he still wasn't answering.  The questions the man referred to didn't seem urgent.  There could be no doubt that Vincent - a person who wrote for a newspaper and a major online source - was really more interested in the home's previous occupants, Gordon and Carly Reffell.  The couple had vacated the house in September of last year.  

        When Derek and his wife were shown the house by a woman named Jean Povey, it was remarkable that the place could still be available.  The Reffells were planning to give it to a group they had become members of.  The group had obtained a sizable farm in the next county.  For some unlikely reason the donation hadn't happened.  Derek didn't know what that reason was though he had tried to learn.  It was as if someone had gained the property from the Reffells and had put it on the market.  For Derek that didn't matter.  He could have the house and he'd continued to prosper.

        Now he was done with the stranger's voice and he went to the sofa for a bit of reading.  His wife entered the room.  She saw that he was looking at something unusual for him - a magazine about the wilderness.  From the article's title she knew the location, and she glimpsed a photograph that depicted shallow, standing water.  All around the slough there was a border of rushes and hefty shrubs.  Various persons would say the choice of reading material didn't figure.  They could testify about his preference in literature.  Saying that Derek Lindsey was an outdoorsman was like saying he was an astronaut. 

        His wife remembered a message that she'd gotten.  She told him, "Twyla Foster wants us to review the programs that are being set up for next winter.  I asked her to be here tomorrow."

        "That's fine," he answered.  Sharon's friend was in the broad category of social worker.  She'd managed to get volunteer work assistance from the Lindseys.

        Eventually Derek got tired of the wilderness and returned to one of his favorite books.  This one described life in a particular suburb of Los Angeles.  He liked the passage where it said, "The men believe in family values, but the actresses have other ideas." 

        Somehow Brad Vincent had encountered Lee Conrad, a neighbor of the Reffells.  Until the week before meeting him at a community center, Lee hadn't read anything by the journalist.  The encounter took place before the Lindseys moved into McCall Circle.  At first it wasn't obvious the two men had such peculiar interests in common.  Their talk at the community center was pivotal.  Vincent had published one report about the baffling behavior of the Reffells and their new companions.  He was quite the bloodhound for locating strange behavior.  He told people he had seen a disconcerting video that Gordon had made before he left McCall Circle.  Watching the video, the reporter could see a kind of undulating motion at places in Gordon's house - on the walls and on the sides of a piano and a bureau.  The motion could have been staged, but if it wasn't staged it was newsworthy.  The members of Gordon's group were saying that he had experienced a profoundly disturbed state because of the eldritch effect.  The claim wasn't supposed to make him seem that much less reliable by reason of psychosis.  It was supposed to mean he'd been directly involved in something significant.  Brad thought this was phony public relations, Lee thought otherwise.  It didn't keep them from enjoying the discussion when they got together for an interview.  But there were some things Lee couldn't afford to tell him.

        A belligerent social group, one that stayed in the background relative to these persons, had been keeping an eye on Brad Vincent.  The group's history was provocative and secret.  It wasn't so much that they feared what Brad might uncover.  It was one thing to uncover, another thing to exploit.  He could possibly set off a chain reaction that was dangerous though not known to the public.

        When it came to the reporter, Derek himself would always be stand-offish.  Like Brad, he had seen Gordon's video that showed the strange wavelike motion on the walls of the house, but he had no desire to see Brad.  He was more receptive to a man named Mike Chambliss, a man who convinced him that the neighborhood residents had special security concerns and that Chambliss had been appointed to work on their behalf.  He came to the house one afternoon.  His van was coasting along, having rounded a juniper hedge up there at the border of the neighborhood.  He parked at the curb in front of the house, then took his time emerging.

        Derek led him around the building and then through the rooms.  As Mike evaluated the possibilities of access, he saw that the place had more doorways, especially with stairs adjacent, than most houses.  It was a fine distinction, somehow.  The residence belonged to a familiar class of architecture.  After the tour they sat by the table in the kitchen.  They conversed for half an hour.  It seemed convenient that Sharon was uninterested in the exchange and was watching TV in the basement. 

        Towards the end of the talk Derek commented, "Where we used to live we had some real problems with all the plug-uglies.  I didn't think it would ever let up.  Here it remains to be seen what we've got."

        Mike said, "What you've got is something very peculiar.  Other than that it's a great location."

        Derek remarked, "The other day I told you about what it's like where I work.  In terms of making it secure they have their own philosophy.  It's not too different than your approach, everything considered."

        "But a house is a house," Mike said, "instead of an office building."

        That was true enough.  Derek referred to something else he'd already mentioned.  "This Vincent character might be a nuisance before long.  He thinks we're a story for his readers.  I've let him know we're not interested."

        "You think he'll make trouble?"

        Derek answered carefully.  "If we don't cooperate with him he may try to use us later as an example when he's talking to someone.  That might be bad enough, but something we can live with."

        "You're standing your ground, I guess," Mike admitted, and shook his head.  "I don't know what to tell you about him.  Sorry."

        Derek added, "I can forget him for the most part.  The important thing is, you know about the previous owners of this house, and we've covered the details.  Let's see - how about summarizing the advice?"

        Mike was eager to do that.  He said, "Anything they left behind in the house would be of interest - anything escaping the notice of remodelers, maintenance workers and the real estate agent.  I know it's a long shot, but it's been known to happen.  There may be information about the people they took up with.  We need to have that."  He was trying to perceive Derek's response, as yet unspoken.  He said further, "I admit, we're not sure how obvious this group would be if they began skulking here.  It could be a problem at first, but it's possible to find out what people are actually doing."  He looked at the smartphone he rarely concealed.  "My friends" - he meant his coworkers - "are not helping me yet.  I thought they'd have something by now.  Anyway I think you know what to do if you're approached or threatened in some way.  I only wish we had been called in soon after the Reffells vacated.  We know the group they're with, but it's a kind of group with an irrational way of doing things.  We have to work that much harder."  He said a few more things and then got up from his chair.  "Unless you have more questions, I'm due back at headquarters."

        Derek observed, "People like you must have your own ideas about the state of society."

        The other man replied, "You'd better believe it's getting worse."

        For now there was nothing else to say.  Mike walked to his van, and as he got in he recalled, for some reason, the things he'd heard about Gordon's dilemma regarding the loss of proceeds from his house.  It shouldn't be a problem for the work that had to be done here.

        After Mike left, Derek recalled an episode of paranoia from two weeks ago.  On that occasion he was about to leave the house by the normal route - through the front door.  First he looked through the window and saw that someone's expensive coupe was stationary on the street, next to the Lindseys' front yard.  At first Derek wouldn't go out, for some reason.  He looked through the window again.  He couldn't rationalize, but he also couldn't ignore, the misgivings he felt.  Why would he suspect a force of the superhuman or spiritual?  His education and upbringing pertained, of course.  As he peered out from the room, he was distinctly reminded of his abiding dread.  He supposed everyone had something just as grim.  Now that he thought about it once more he suspected the person in the car was one of Mike's associates, one of Gordon's associates or one of Brad's.  Was it trivial, or should he tell Mike about it? 

        He'd been asking himself which of these persons were trustworthy.  Twyla Foster's work had brought her into the lives of members and former members of Gordon's new 'family.'  It was easy to become a member of the group, but many of these people found reasons for quitting.  She had met the Reffells and had been to their house once, three years ago.  She had also found an excuse for entering the lives of the Lindseys.

        Informally the group at the farm had become known as 'Meulenbelt.'  This was the name of a prominent cabinetmaker in the region.  The special kind of esthetic ascribed to the cabinetmaker was held to be true of the Reffells' companions in their own work.  This work included more than just growing and harvesting crops.  They produced a wide range of household furnishings.  No one expressed curiosity about the name's having been adopted by these people.

        In spite of a lost income Gordon Reffell was pleased with his life-changing decision.  He could benefit from the efforts of craftsmen who, like him, revered the greatest public figures in the region's history.  The worldview of these craftsmen was being heralded by some critics as the supreme form of enlightenment.  But there was an advantage that set Gordon apart from the others : a special knowledge of history and prehistory.  It was also true that the group's founder had recently perished.  His successor was much younger than Gordon, and some people wanted to think the older man would emerge as the leading influence.  Once, at a campus auditorium less than a quarter mile from where he had been living, Gordon heard someone give the lecture "What was so great about Tom McCall?"  These farm workers knew the answer to that question.  As a way of suggesting it himself Gordon sent the Lindseys a slogan by email.  This was two days after Mike's first visit to the house.  Derek read the message very soon after it arrived, then quickly composed a reply and sent it.  As he did, his wife could guess the persons involved in this.  He had made it clear with a terse comment, spoken aloud, but to himself.

        She asked, "Message from the Reffells?"

        He answered, "Telling me about the great Tom McCall."

        Sharon's face brightened.  She said, "Him and his rock festival."  It was enjoyable as a bit of history.  "My mother used to tell me about it.  Unkempt America, nudists, honeybuckets everywhere.  People in the crowd playing stupid music.  Talk about a cultural disease!"

        Derek told her, "It's a good thing I replied to Gordon and you didn't."

        "Come on, you're not afraid to hurt his feelings." 

        Her husband thought it wise not to answer the taunt.  He thought he should be careful about Gordon's group and the larger constellation involving Mike's employers and still another faction - a danger he somehow intuited without gaining enough specific knowledge.  The fact that a brotherhood tries to be secret doesn't mean the outside world is completely unaware.  He returned to the text he had been composing before he got the notice from Gordon.

        At the moment some persons were milling about on the street near the couple's residence.  These persons included a trusted friend, and this friend seemed to ignore the other people.  Besides these neighbors, a person was watching from a greater distance.

        "What's he up to?" Mike Chambliss muttered as he observed Lee Conrad observing the Lindseys' house.

        Mike spoke into his smartphone, greeting someone.  He listened for three minutes, and then asked, "Am I supposed to approach them directly, right now?"

        The person with the other phone told him to stay away from the house.  He relayed instructions from the directors. 

     Mike answered, "I see what you mean.  Actually, I'm glad to hear it."

        The other person made some gracious comments, trying to stoke the operative's ambitions.

        Mike said, "I appreciate the kind words, but I need some opportunities I haven't had lately."

        His immediate superior told him, "Everything's about to change for the better.  We know that Reffell and his friends have made the right decision.  You know what that means for the Lindseys' neighborhood."

        Mike said, "I've got the idea."  He promised to report if he saw Derek leave the house. 

        A minute later he walked over to a side street he had carefully chosen after the research he'd done in the beginning.  He'd parked his van securely, with adequate seclusion.  It was both inconspicuous and useful, as vans go.  This phase of his work in the neighborhood commenced.  In the process he had the thought that his reality would seem less interesting than people's notion of it.  He wouldn't tell them he was figuratively or literally a hired gun of the corporate interests rather than a cop.  He wouldn't tell them how his employer and associates had managed to steal a house.  People should believe the truth was prosaic, always disappointing.  But he enjoyed his work, and in this case what needed verifying were the most fantastic allegations.  Gordon Reffell was an extreme problem.  Someday it would be resolved, but at the moment he had a different problem, with a different person.  Inside his van the hired gun stepped over to where his 'guest' lay on the floor.  The guest was kept secure in the usual manner of those being interrogated.  More work had to be done with him.  The interrogator couldn't understand why so many citizens thought his methods were atrocious.

        He confirmed that the other man was still secure, then made a satirical parting shot as he exited the van.

        "Don't worry, Applewhite, my colleagues will tuck you in."

        The businessmen Mike served had a special purpose for the Meulenbelt commune.  It wasn't so much that they were trying to suppress it.  Instead they wanted to make use of it.  Mike's prisoner could be a way to do that.  The man's actions at the farm had been objectionable, and the elders in that group had made serious attempts at discipline.  They'd been telling Mike about him for several weeks.  And Mike had learned something else : high society's awareness that a house in McCall Circle might be significant was nothing new.  The corporation directors had given him an assignment that put him somewhat out of his element.  But he was adaptable.  He could have ideas about the leadership's plans even if he couldn't discuss them.  It would have been nice if he wasn't running into trouble with surveillance efforts at the farm.  He had to watch those people too.

        One thing he had no knowledge about was a brotherhood of long standing but recent obsession with McCall Circle.  In a relatively harmless way those people were using the Meulenbelt craftsmen as dupes.  The brotherhood's independence of Mike's employer was a fact that kept lots of people in the dark.  Without being obvious they had a way of encouraging Brad Vincent along with others.  They were vaguely known to Twyla, having approached her after sensing her less fortunate attributes.  They had also given Lee Conrad reason to believe he could benefit.  He had his own involvement with Gordon's group.  And, from a trace of subtle clues, Derek feared that someone like them would be lurking.

        Jean Povey would remember a curious meeting that took place at the Lindseys' house during the interval when no one lived there.  Her business interest kept her checking on the place.  The man she spoke to one day when she arrived would be there by himself at other times - at the curb in front, looking the house over.  They had known each other for several years.  On this day they converged at the site by happenstance.  First of all he exclaimed how different the yard was looking.  Except for the cedar tree all the tallest vegetation, including the osiers, had been removed.  Someone assumed the newcomers would replace them anyway.  She defended the change, then moved to a more serious topic.  They both knew there had been reports of strangers entering the place at night.  She tried to quickly finish the topic with a heartfelt statement as they went through the front door.  Now, inside the house they examined the living room.  They both had fond recollections of previous visits.

        "The way they had it set up in here," Lee recalled, "it was just right for the events they had.  Chamber music, of all things."  Then he added, "Sometimes they had Carly's cousins from Idaho.  I was invited to one of those dinners."  He looked blankly at the fireplace.  "The Reffells had concerns about the future of this part of town."

        Jean remarked, "I don't say I worry about the neighborhood going to the dogs.  Though I can't be here that often I have to care about the house.  We've had these latest episodes."

        There had been one, especially.

        Lee stated, "I was told about the intruder the night it happened.  They didn't see him go in, but they saw him come out.  He was fast enough, and I don't think the cops learned anything."

        The living room was as it should be.  Lee glanced at the door that led from the kitchen to the backyard.  He went to the door, looked through its window, and sure enough the Jolma family across the street could have seen the prowler leaving through this door - could have seen him from their porch or from their own kitchen window.  Lee would never admit to Jean that he had an idea who was behind the intrusions.  He thought it was the secret brotherhood.

        Jean said, "Meth abusers, child abusers, white slavery - I never meet those characters."  The look on her face was the look of not taking anything seriously.

        Then she exclaimed, "I've led such a sheltered life!"

        He replied, "Since I left the army I haven't met any real monsters.  I'm not complaining."  Actually he had met a few, and other people had met Lee Conrad.

        Getting back to the reason for stopping by, Jean said, "I have to check every room.  You know, if you look around you might find something I miss."

        "I'll have a look," he agreed.  And he did move around the place, looking, but he didn't find anything worth mentioning.  Then he saw Jean coming up from the basement.

        She said, "One of these rooms up here has marks on the wall that might be vandalism.  Tell me what you think."

        When he saw the marks he knew they could be gotten rid of with a special cleanser and considerable effort.  He told her it wasn't really damage. 

        "Home security is fine," she said, "as long as it works."

        Lee replied, "Safeguards for vacant buildings.  I know what the problems are like."  He looked at the front door.  "You can always start over."

        She added, "No damage to speak of, for some reason."

        "The damage can still happen."

        They went back to the living room and Jean said, "The Reffells had no ambitions in terms of home improvement.  What you see is what they inherited.  I have to admit, they were good at hiding the blemishes."

        Lee could only smile at this candor.  Looking the place over, he tried to think how better to use a new, informal partnership that he had.  The partner had already met Gordon.  For Lee to get anywhere his own plans would have to be more imaginative.  He was hoping this collaboration would do that.  In the ideal situation the partner would control the residents of this house.  Twyla was the partner, and she had already done a good job of misleading the Lindseys.  In her mind there was no question about where the couple would be living a year from now.  And Gordon would regain his property.

        In regard to Lee's basic temperament, it's true that there was a contrary side to him.  The preference for destructive behavior against his 'friends' had never been absolute.  Soul-searching didn't cost him very much.  At times he even thought about living a different kind of life.

        The real estate agent had her own philosophical moments.  Right now she didn't think there was much to worry about.  The funny thing was, Lee reminded her of an irritating office worker that she knew - the one who kept saying it was the CIA that murdered Bob Crane.  As she had this thought, Lee checked the time of day with his smartphone.  They both saw, before they left, a skillfully done fresco that covered the longest wall in the basement.  They had seen it before and were impressed.  Actually, Derek and Sharon used this room less than the other rooms.  Its door was always closed when they were watching TV - the usual reason they'd be in the basement.  Cleaning or maintenance were the only other reasons they'd be there.  Besides the fresco nothing else in the home was especially artistic.  This door, though, comprised an ultimate geographic or geophysical threshold - according to the Reffells' daughter.  She seemed to abound in such knowledge though it wasn't clear who she had gotten it from.  A few years ago Jean Povey had been told by Gordon that his daughter had painted the picture sometime around the turn of the millenium. 

        By the time of this conversation with the Lindseys' neighbor, Jean had already been aware of elements that were similar to Gordon's adopted group.  Some of these thought, naively, that she might help them gain much land.  She knew of some actions that weren't legal.  Some of these people were in trouble.  Now, after she'd reported suspicions to members of law enforcement, it seemed only a matter of time before Gordon's group suffered the same consequences. 

        The sights of that visit to the house and his encounter with Jean came to Lee's mind when he saw Twyla Foster and the Lindseys about six weeks later.  On that day the talk began with mention of Twyla's concerns.  Before long some crucial choices were made.  Other possibilities were considered but left open.  Afterwards there were some statements about the Reffells. 

        Derek commented, "We were told the house had never been remodeled.  From my point of view it doesn't make a difference, but I don't see it as commendation.  Somehow it jibes with Gordon's mentality.  I've talked to him a couple of times."  Derek nodded.  "He has a reputation."

        "They must have left their mark on the place," Twyla said.

        Everyone glanced around the living room or looked out at the front yard.

        "Hard to see it, for the most part," Sharon replied.  She had in mind the obvious exception, but didn't yet speak of it.

        Derek said, "I suppose they did something to the place if they lived here that long."

        Some things weren't being acknowledged.  Every doorjamb in the house had carved emblems that Derek didn't bring to their attention.  He disliked having to admit that the emblems were first noticed when he and Sharon returned from a concert one evening.  For all he knew some secret brotherhood might have carved the ornaments.  His wife could have told the guests about them if she cared.  So far she didn't care.

        They came to the largest of the stairways and Sharon proclaimed, "I know this was part of the original construction."  Original was 1948.

        Lee said, "This one looks more elegant than the one leading to the carport."

        Sharon grimaced.

        Derek admitted, "We don't know what they were thinking."

        Lee said, "Gordon was a lot different than his dad.  I think he accepted the house if only because he was getting it free from the older generation.  But he preferred some other style of residence.  I heard him say it."

        The staircase here at the front of the house was wide, very long and low-gradient.  Lee had heard something about it from Brad.  According to the journalist, Gordon had said that this part of the house was especially conditioned by the peculiar nature of the land, even the soil itself.  There was no further explanation.  The Reffells must have learned something about this from the builders, if not the prior landowner.

        Twyla could never dismiss the importance of what had happened here three years ago.  For the most part her visit had been casual.  Then, descending the staircase, the woman had a physical sensation that she would describe as 'unearthly.'  She called to the Refells, they came, and all three had the same experience.  The event being so remarkable, she had always wanted to return.  It was delicious that, having returned she could conspire with Lee Conrad.  The Lindseys were clueless. 

        For some reason the conspirators hadn't said anything to each other about the pictorial achievement in the basement.  Twyla knew that Gordon's group had a fascination with it.  She had seen the wall painting three years ago and mentioned it to the people at the farm.  She gave them an excellent photo showing the mural.  They wanted to read a great deal into it, but there was something Twyla hadn't noticed at first.  Even to the cleverest persons it wasn't obvious that the fresco had a representation of certain architectural features found at the artist's house.  Those features were the building's most important points of transition. 

        This afternoon, with Lee Conrad and the Lindseys, discussion had a way of coming back to Gordon.

        "I've talked to a man Gordon still works with," Derek informed the others.  "According to him Gordon's the only rational voice at the commune.  He keeps the others within boundaries."  Derek enjoyed the opinion as comical nonsense.

        "I've always thought he's a good influence," Lee said.  "It's just the way he gets to the point.  Says what he thinks and it scares people off.  Well, some people."

        To Derek that seemed fair enough.  But soon he changed the subject.  There was a book - a geology text - he had recommended to his neighbor.  He couldn't guess how seriously it was taken by the experts.

        "Did you ever see a copy of that book about minerals?  That part about the geosyncline?" 

        Derek had formed some strong opinions relating these ideas to the house he lived in. 

        "Geosyncline, right."  Lee nodded.  "I got as far as what they said about the Pleistocene."  He should have had more to report, but there was nothing.

        "And they describe the sediments," Derek continued, "the glacial deposits everywhere."  Still no details from Lee.  It was exasperating that this man couldn't remember much.

        "I read that chapter," Lee finally told him.  Having read such a thing didn't count for much, apparently.  He didn't recall the simplest points, let alone the finer ones. 

        There was an interesting bit of lore that Derek couldn't forget about.  He'd heard the story once, at least twenty years ago.  It was told by an acquaintance who happened to be one of Gordon's coworkers, but not the one already mentioned.  The narrative started with Gordon's dad.  It told of something that happened in the 1950s.  According to the story a group of specialists wanted permission from the Reffells to excavate near the house.  Gordon's dad gave permission to do something more limited in scope than they wanted.  They went ahead with the project and found what they were looking for.  They told the homeowner, who was always tight-lipped about it.  In addition to giving him some jargon from their work, the specialists were probably a source of the arcane understanding that was gained by the granddaughter.  They had also informed the secret brotherhood.

        Now, when Derek finally mentioned the fresco, there was no immediate rush to have a look.  The comments took a different direction.  Lee had the ability, in some cases, to slant the remarks in a certain way without his listeners perceiving his efforts.  They were talking now about Brad Vincent.  The journalist had arrived from California.  It seemed unlikely that he'd be staying in this area for long, but he might have some breakthrough in the works.  Derek let the other man know he was wary of Mr. Vincent.  He'd keep Vincent out of this building.  It was one thing for Twyla to learn about the Reffells' traces here, but the news media system - forget it.  Lee didn't have to do a lot of slanting this time.

        "He sounds like a stooge of the Patriarchy," the young woman said.

        Sharon didn't appreciate Twyla's obvious penchant : a hankering for photos that showed her in the presence of entertainment celebrities, a fondness for cute comments, etc.  But Sharon wasn't impressed by Brad Vincent, either.

        Lee pointed out, "I've learned some scary things about him in the last few weeks.  He played a deceptive role in the Congressional scandal of the fake antiquities.  Now he's doing a hatchet job on Gordon Reffell." 

        Sharon said, "He's one of the people signing their names to that petition about the activities of groups like Meulenbelt.  The petitioners call it 'hateful assembly.'  They've got a brochure that came yesterday."

        "Who are they petitioning?" Derek replied.  He hadn't seen the brochure, though he'd already known of Brad's activism.

        His wife only remembered one thing about the message : the petitioners were defining the offense in a unique way, with Meulenbelt being the first of their targets.  Hateful assembly differed from unlawful assembly.

        "So he isn't just reporting about them," Derek concluded.  "He's helping a prosecutor make his case."

        Lee said, "I think we should take most of these professional do-gooders and drop 'em from the Golden Gate."

        Twyla made a visceral noise that expressed agreement.

        Sharon said to her husband, "What's that opinion Mike has of Brad Vincent?  Something about a project he used to be part of."

        Derek answered, "Some idealists with a claim to fame.  I forget what they called it."  He concentrated, then finally remarked, "I don't know if Brad is still with that group.  They try to expose the corruption of private security officers.  Mike sees the activists as a vigilante group that gets good press."

        Lee said, "So now Brad's going after a different crowd."

        It was frustrating to Derek that he couldn't say something very convincing about this location.  It was too embarrassing to describe it as a sacred spot.  He'd had a fantasy in which his neighborhood becomes recognized as the center from which a peculiar wisdom emanates.  For some reason these thoughts were prompted once again, this time by statements made about Brad Vincent.

        A bit later the women were in a different part of the house, and the men were considering another question.  Lee spoke more quietly than before.

        He said, "If the Deep State would apply itself there'd be none of these ongoing civil disturbances around the country.  And at the same time the more constructive alternate lifestyles would be able to flourish."

        Inside information, no doubt.  The other man had a deflating response.

        "Are you getting this from the wretches at the bottom of the pecking order?"

        Lee frowned.  "I don't need a confidential source for it.  Anyone can see the problem if they think about it."

        "Trouble is, most people don't think about it.  Right?"

        The scorn was good-natured.  Lee kept going with his judgments, handling some contrary claims made by Derek.  It lasted till the women returned.

        There was another point during the visit when Lee was keeping quiet, pondering significant questions.  He thought it was a nice touch - visiting these people at the same time as Twyla.  He enjoyed the leisure of waiting for the next obscure clue from the secret brotherhood.  Still, he had to resolve some plans.  Which one of the poor fools at the farm should he sacrifice next?  He'd had one person in mind, but that guy was missing.  It was no loss to the group, it just meant someone else would be sacrificed.  No, not ritual murder - that was too cinematic to have anything to do with the real world.  Instead, sacrifice would amount to tactical maneuvers not obviously breaking the law.  Then again there could be exceptions...

        The conversation was almost finished.  When they entered the room that had the fresco, something was noticed by Lee for the first time.  Towards the right end of the mural could be seen the image of a cupboard that was labeled as being by Meulenbelt.  He was astonished.  He should have noticed this previously, but only now did he understand.  In the group's early days one of its members had visited the Reffells and taken the group's name from the image in the fresco. 

        Twyla wished the Lindseys a good day.  About an hour later she was standing just outside the fence at a tennis court, listening to the fantastic suggestions made by a man who worked for one of the region's prominent businesses.  As they spoke, no one else was nearby.

        The man pointed out, "You'd get a lot more for yourself if he was out of the picture.  The people I work with have all kinds of dirt on that guy.  Be candid with me - does Lee really consider your point of view?"

        "He never shuts up," Twyla said.

        The man was glad to hear this.  "Okay, that's the point.  We all need partners who seem reasonable to work with.  Especially in a project that involves defamation and the strongarm stuff.  Can you live with that?"

        "Maybe there's too much polite society," the woman answered.

        The man was staring more or less in the direction of a tacky structure that previously had been a bowling alley.  He wasn't thinking about the unused building.  He had a dreamy look of satisfaction.

        "Legislators are pathetic," he claimed.  "They can be prodded, forced to move in some direction they're not accustomed too.  Cattle prods can be psychic in nature."

        She replied, "There might be worse ways to get things done."

        When they'd begun talking the man had set a leather pouch on the ground by the fence.  Now he picked it up and opened it.  He pulled something out and displayed it longer than he needed to.

        Twyla gasped.

        He told her, "This is what happens to people who mess with us."

        Twyla's gasp was a gasp of pleasure.

        The young woman was detecting improvement.  It hadn't been easy to reach a better perspective.  The brotherhood was actually being useful.

        This male conspirator promised, "It's bound to succeed.  That is, if everyone cooperates."

        In Twyla's heart of hearts there could be nothing as gratifying as a vile conspiracy.

        On the following Thursday Brad Vincent walked slowly past the Lindseys' home.  He felt safe doing this.  One person who lived hereabouts could recognize him, but Brad knew he was elsewhere in the late morning.  Somehow the reporter, in looking at the house, could see features he thought were correlated with scandalous facts about Gordon Reffell the businessman and crackpot.  Brad's obsession with the Reffells and their companions could be justified in terms of his work ethic.  Reaching a spot that was far enough down the street, he turned to look back and have a good view of the stairsteps that came down to the ground - coming down from the balcony at the rear of the house.  There was something unusual about the stairs compared to other stairs, but he could never tell what the difference was, exactly.  Though he had a discerning intuition about this place, he'd never guess the most impressive detail : the fact that something of tremendous antiquity would be preserved and make a sudden appearance for the present day inhabitants of Earth.  Now, having gone far enough past the house, he reversed his direction.  He walked past the building a second time, and some of his assumptions were being confirmed.  His mind was formidable.

        Also, what Brad knew about the Reffells and their new associates had been a tonic for his crusading zeal.  He'd fix those lice on a charge of hateful assembly.  The petition had started something beautiful.  It was great the way Lee Conrad could be duped into providing support before he knew what Brad was really about.  The journalist often achieved his goals by means of expertise in tech.  He could also be rather fickle, and he sometimes disappointed his allies. 

        A phone conversation he had with Jean Povey would be decisive.  He called her later that day and gave an honest warning.  He was surprised by her first question, which was a tad abrasive.

        "Care to explain why everyone says you're an S. O. B.?" 

        He replied with an awkward chuckle, then said, "They're bound to look askance, I suppose.  It doesn't help when I tell them about the surveillance that goes on.  People have no concept of the actual situation."

        "So you're giving me a specific report.  What is it?"

        He described at length a very unpleasant possibility.  When he was done Jean commented, "What you tell me about Lee Conrad is surprising.  I think I'll talk to Derek about it since he won't give you the time of day.  If what you say is true it concerns all of us."

        The journalist couldn't know about Twyla, but he'd been able to read something in the depths of Lee Conrad.  It seemed only fair that Jean be alerted, with statements about Lee's background.  Brad was pleased with himself.  He liked the way he could benefit from a situation as long as he blamed everything on corporate fascism.

        Various things were coming to light.  For example, Derek had found out that Lee was cozy with Meulenbelt.  When he did, he began to formulate precautions.  Bringing Sharon with him, he confronted the social worker.  She denied having been acquainted with Lee before last week's meeting.  The aggressive questions led to a falling out that was painful for Sharon though she accepted the ugly truth about Twyla.  It was good riddance.

        A writer who lived in the county had been developing a suspicion that 'there's something about McCall Circle.'  He wanted to mysticize the area.  But it wasn't McCall Circle, it was just the Lindseys' three-storey house.  Derek had a young visitor to the place, a person whose manner and speech were such that, if he hadn't been clean-shaven he could pass for an outlaw biker.  Derek knew the man was one of Gordon's cronies if not fellow-professionals.  A second email from Gordon had suggested the young man would pay a visit.  Having arrived and begun talking, he could inform Derek about significant but strange details of the house.  Then he got around to something more sensitive : the cult member that Mike had given such unfriendly attention to.

        The visitor said, "Nobody's seen him for a couple of weeks.  I can imagine something happening to him.  I like him, but he's got a big mouth."

        Derek answered comfortably, "Freedom is no good without commitment."   

        The young man's other assertions, along with the second email from Gordon, were disappointing to Derek.  In his reply to Gordon's first message he'd asked a question about Brad Vincent.  The answer was unconvincing.

        The afternoon did have a consequential action.  To begin with, Mike Chambliss emerged from a stupor.  His latest pattern of work hours had been merciless.  Compared to other stupors this one wasn't very innocent.  But once he could think of his real world imperative, his eagerness flowered once more.  After having lunch he stood for several minutes on the front porch of his absurdly posh, temporary lodging in West Linn.  

        The formidable Mike Chambliss thought he was the product of something well-directed - but what, exactly?  There had been a time when he was receiving medical attention that seemed very similar to what lots of people experience.  He'd been told what the treatment had to do with his professional competence.  He thought the relevance was overstated.  The treatment had started one autumn, then continued sporadically to the following summer, with major details blotted finally from his recollection - perhaps conveniently for someone's purpose.  He wasn't tormented by this to the point where he'd have to have some great cleansing explanation.  He could remember the events he needed to - the leaders' machinations and a genuine trail of treachery.  To Mike none of this was daunting.  He had some things going for him.  He was still young enough to compete physically with almost anyone.  

        But his final effort regarding the Lindseys' neighborhood was a burst of desperation as well as eagerness.  His superiors were cracking the whip.  In complying, he forgot about the forlorn subject of interrogation, a man still unaccounted for in the eyes of acquaintances and the authorities.  That part seemed less important than the familiar address in McCall Circle.  As much as Lee Conrad, Mike had been surprised when he learned of the most important detail in the fresco.  He learned it when he made a phone call to Derek.  He also learned about the young visitor who had just left the Lindseys' place.  For the hired gun this problem had culminated, and he was sure he could handle any group of deviants.  If only Derek wasn't so effete, so spineless.  The culmination had a timing that seemed improbable.  The pieces that were converging provided sudden awareness.  Now he knew about Lee's conspiracy.  The newest residents of McCall Circle were being targeted by their acquaintances. 

        He made his way into the Lindseys' front yard.  For some reason he didn't go straight to the door, but moved in the direction of the side yard.  He stopped when he glanced through a window and saw Derek.  The resident was standing at the top of the big stairway, and the troubled expression on his face would be noticed by anyone looking at him.  There was a confusing interval before he gestured, waving Mike into the house.  The visitor went through the door.

        Derek barked at him, "Don't touch it!"

        Mike halted.

        On the stair steps and the railing was a kind of inexplicable substance - almost a powder, not quite a goo.

        Derek told him, "After Gordon's friend left the house I saw this materialize."

        It was organic, but it wasn't blood or any kind of human secretion.  Its color varied from white to pale green, in splotches.

        For a couple of minutes Derek spoke, summarizing the ideas that Gordon's father had expressed concerning the nature of this location.

        Suddenly there was a change - the undulation effect - in the bizarre 'deposit.'  There was a corresponding change in Mike's demeanor.  It wasn't panic or phobia, merely the fact that he'd been instructed to leave the scene if he found something like this.  Derek understood why Mike, of all people, would seem to lose his nerve.

        Then, after the man was gone, Derek could see another person out there on the street, showing too much interest in the house.  One minute later Derek was on the front porch.  He displayed a handgun.  Brad Vincent, who had been stationed there with his camcorder and somehow escaped Mike's notice, got the hint.  He left the neighborhood.  In fact he had gotten right up to a window and videotaped the situation, then moved back to the street.  He was sure he wouldn't be punished for trespassing.  To the resident this left a bad taste. 

        But the rest of that afternoon Derek felt a preternatural sense of well-being.  True, he'd been deceived by Gordon about the house and about the people at the farm.  But now that he knew this, he could let certain things go.  And he was fascinated by sensing the likely origin of the biological traces.

        In the next few days Mike enjoyed gaining a special subordinate : the person he fondly referred to as Applewhite.  For the most part this wasn't Mike's doing.  His methods of inspiration were too primitive.  But the people he worked for had always employed the most innovative psychiatrists.  Now it was time for someone else to watch the action at McCall Circle.  The leadership had better things for Mike and his subordinate to do, working at places where they were needed more than they were at McCall Circle.  Mike had a newfound optimism.  Applewhite was a good boy. 

        In the meantime Brad Vincent had an experience - a sign, if you will - that portended menace.  There were steps being taken towards a disastrous climax wrought by the brotherhood.  It wouldn't be long till it happened, and Brad was misreading the sign.  Twyla helped the brotherhood, but the efforts against Lee never materialized.  They were concentrated against Brad.

        Another development : Derek presently learned the identity of the man who'd been watching the house from the driver's seat of the coupe.  He was a well-known author of books on the sensational and mystical, mostly UFOs.  He had a very informal working partnership with Brad.  They would exchange bits of knowledge from time to time.  At some point he'd mention the 'encounter' on a talk show, making it sound momentous.

        The job of cleaning up the strange organic traces hadn't been too time consuming.  That evening Sharon composed more of the notes that she'd been accumulating for a prospective memoir.

        She wrote, among other things, "Our future is suddenly taking a different course.  Derek was becoming more and more sympathetic to Meulenbelt, but it's finished because of what happened on the stairs, and because Lee Conrad was found out.  Another person showed her true colors : Twyla Foster."

        Mrs. Lindsey meditated for a half hour, then resumed work on the memoir.

        "In the last three hours I've learned about a pact formed by Derek along with Gordon and Lee.  They met for a confab the week after the Reffells vacated the house.  Derek only now tells me of this meeting, though he's had his reasons for being silent.  Gordon was intimidated by someone.  Officially he sold, and unofficially gave, the house to someone.  They're not telling me who that was.  The extortion impaired the pact, which otherwise could have made us a fortune, but Gordon still encouraged my husband to buy the house when it mysteriously appeared on the market.  Lee's betrayal finished any agreement that was binding the three.  So Derek and I won't be joining the Reffell companions, after all.  That may prove to be a great relief.  I won't have to continue with the unacceptable secret."  Her final remark was just as optimistic.  "We're staying here.  Neither of us is frightened."

        So the Lindseys' house really did have a unique and serious geophysical attribute.  The couple did everything they could - which wasn't enough - to keep it a secret.  Occasionally a motorist would stop at the curb, take photos of the front door and the windows, then drive away.