Page 70 of When She Dreams

“Are you in the lucid dreamstate, Mr. Guilfoyle?” Oxlade asked.

“Yes,” Guilfoyle intoned.

“Describe what you see, sir.”

“I am in the center of a clear crystal sphere. When I look up I see the majesty of the cosmos. When I look out to the horizon I see no limits or barriers. I am gazing into infinity.”

“What do you see when you look down?” Oxlade asked.

“This theater. I see myself and you, Dr. Oxlade. I see the aspiring dreamers in the audience. There is latent power in each of them. Theyall have the potential to discover the secrets of extreme lucid dreaming, the potential to open the pathway to their psychic senses.”

The audience responded with a murmur of excitement.

“You have accessed all of your senses,” Oxlade continued. “You are now able to perceive what the rest of us cannot. Are you prepared to respond to questions from the audience?”

“Yes.”

Oxlade turned to the crowd. “Who wishes to ask Mr. Guilfoyle a question?”

A man in the second row raised his hand. Oxlade nodded to him.

“I am considering a large investment in a certain mining company,” the man said. “Do you advise me to go forward with the purchase of the stock?”

Arthur was silent for a moment, radiating intense concentration.

“The company will do well,” he said finally. “You will profit from the investment.”

“Next question,” Oxlade said to the audience.

Hands shot up around the room.

Maggie stifled a sigh. It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 30

Sam stood in the darkened kitchen of the guest villa, giving himself some time to absorb the atmosphere. It was the house Oxlade was staying in and it was supposed to be empty because the doctor was in the main building of the Institute assisting in Guilfoyle’s reading.

The villa did feel empty. The curtains and shades were closed but moonlight filtered in through the transom windows above the doors.

After a moment he switched on the flashlight and looked around. The kitchen was neat and tidy—probably the work of a daily housekeeper provided by the Institute. On the other hand, Oxlade appeared to be a fussy man by nature, and he was in the drug business, so maybe he did his own housekeeping.

Sam crossed the linoleum floor, went into a hallway, and set about exploring the villa. He did not know what he was looking for—he just hoped he would recognize it when he saw it.

He had left the Packard in the parking lot of the hotel and made his way onto the grounds of the Institute on foot via a service gate. Night and the elaborate gardens and the various garages, toolsheds, and boarded-up buildings provided ample cover. He was reasonably satisfied no one had seen him, but there was no way to be certain.

The hall led to two bedrooms, one of which had been transformed into a temporary office. A large well-worn briefcase was positioned next to a table.

The simple lock on the briefcase was easily overcome with a paper clip. Sam reached inside and removed a leather-bound journal.

He opened the journal, took a pencil and a notepad out of the pocket of his trench coat, and started making notes. The pages were filled with excited speculations about the potential of the dream-enhancing drug but nothing that looked like a formula or a list of ingredients.

The first entry was dated some seven months earlier, which meant the journal covered the time during which Maggie had booked appointments with Oxlade. Sure enough, there was a great deal of elated detail about a female patient named Smith.

A uniquely powerful lucid dreamer... Requires firm guidance... Refuses to accept the reality of her talent... Suffered a fit of hysteria... Attempt at sedation failed... Unable to locate... Great loss to science...

From an entry dated the night before:

...Smith is here. Note: Name changed to Lodge. I have found her at last. The Guilfoyles assure me she will cooperate. The first step is to remove her from the influence of her research assistant as soon as possible...

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