Chapter

 58

“What took you so long, Doctor, pit stop?” said Bowman as they entered the small cubicle housing the eyes and ears of Milton’s “Big Brother.”

“Kind of,” answered Pressman as he peered at the bank of monitors. Both 7 and 4 were showing empty rooms. “Both out for a stroll?”

“Dr. Rupert has Mathews for that last bank of tests and Charles is in the visiting compound,” said Bowman.

“Know who he’s visiting?”

“My cam’s good, but it doesn’t read minds yet.”

“So, why the page?”

Bowman had been rewinding tape as the two doctors entered and was now setting up two decks. “Called you because...I wanted you to see this as it was happening, but...”. She pushed the start button and monitor #4 lit up with Charles sitting with his back partially to the camera as he worked on a drawing. “He took it off the wall just after you left and here... “ she zoomed in for a closer look. “... he added this boat.”

Charles was sketching a boat that at first appeared large like the yacht, but then it became apparent that the perspective was distorted as the boat had a motor on the backside and a person sitting up front, like a speedboat. “Night of the murder,” muttered Dr. Pressman.

“Well, you’re the doctor,” said Bowman, “but I don’t think so. Listen... “

The audio was dialed up and Charles could be heard murmuring to himself, “Where are you going...where are you going?”

“He’s back.” whispered Farnsworth in a singsong voice as if emulating a sound bite from a trailer for “Poltergeist.”

“Not funny,” said Pressman, keeping his eyes fixed to the screen.

Farnsworth continued, “Talking to himself as he motored back to the yacht that night... “

“...Or,” interrupted Pressman, “...talking to himself or somebody else on the night of his memory loss.” He pointed to the picture’s surroundings and the circular outline in the near corner of the paper. “If this is his point of view, this could be the wheel of his Harley.”

“Impressions. Could be,” said Farnsworth, “Or it might be...back off a little Bowman...good. See to the left on the desk...a coffee cup. Ring stain from the cup?”

“You don’t choose to see anything as it actually is, do you Doctor Farnsworth?”

“When it’s obvious that... “

Bowman interrupted. “Excuse me doctors. Before you get too involved in your debate, check out #7. Notice the time.”

Both doctors turned their attention to the replay of Mathews' tape. He sat on the floor, leaning against his bed. Propped against his knees was a pad as he penciled something. The time ticked off. Five...ten...fifteen seconds.

“What are we looking for?” asked Farnsworth.

“There... he put the pad down on the desktop. Watch,” urged Bowman. “Mathews propped the pad up against his coffee cup - Napoleon’s coffee cup - so the camera could zoom in and see it better.” He looked toward the camera and motioned… watch. “Here, Nurse Bowman. Pressman will appreciate this.” He checked his watch. “It’s 9:34. Gotta go and humor Doctor Rupert.”

Mathews stepped out of the frame as the door to his cell could be heard being opened, and the voice of an orderly saying, “Morning, Dr. Mathews. Pleasant night?”

“Very. You?”

The door shut behind.

“I don’t understand,” said Farnsworth. “9:34 and humor Rupert? Am I missing something?”

Bowman lifted her eyebrows to Pressman who grinned. “Maybe, Doctor.” He leaned over to Bowman, “Got me a close-up?”

“Does Bowman want to keep her job?” She pushed the fast-forward until the zoom- in was completed. There in full frame now was Mathews’ pad. An abstract composition of shapes and textures, but before Pressman could glance over at #4, Bowman had already rewound it to the zoom-in on Charles's sketch. Pressman knew now why Bowman had called him over the pager. Charles’ tape had a recording of 9:33. Comparing the two drawings and the close time notations, it was too coincidental to be anything else.

Mathews had somehow drawn a composition identical to Charles’...at virtually the same time.

It wasn’t until Dr. Pressman was seated in the doctor’s lounge sipping his coffee with Dr. Farnsworth that he answered the questions that had hammered him as they left the video room. “Yes, yes, and yes. Yes, I’ve seen hints of it before today. Yes, I believe telepathy is possible. And yes, I think Mathews knows a hell of lot more about Charlie/Charles than he’s letting us know…at least letting me know.”

Dr. Pressman thoughtfully drank from his mug. “You know... he might like to play with you for a while.”

Dr. Farnsworth sat back. The usual grin and smirk of self-confidence was gone. “Me?”

“Why not?” said Dr. Mathews as he sat on the floor, his coffee cup between his legs, and his eyes peering into the white enclosure where Napoleon continued to try and scale the plastic-coated walls. “You know I can’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. That’s one of the laws of hypnosis. So...why not? It’s a very small and reasonable request. Take us fifteen or twenty minutes...full view of Nurse Bowman’s ‘psycho-cam’.”

Dr. Farnsworth sat at the desk in cell #7 and smiled at Dr. Mathews’ suggestion. He was holding his clipboard face down in his lap, tapping his upper lip, studying this man whose charge had been given to him by Dr. Pressman just six hours earlier. “This visit is only about you and your many talents, Doctor Mathews.”

Mathews stood up, walked to the desk, and lifted the drawing. “Hypnotically revealing everything your young brilliant mind has repressed would be a wonderful way to find out my talents...Doctor.” As he turned back to Dr. Farnsworth, “It might even help reveal the root cause of your obsessive note taking. Fear of loss has many manifestations, Doctor.” He placed the drawing on top of Farnsworth’s clipboard. “Do you think picking up on Charlie/Charles’s mind is a secret pleasure or a power trip of mine?”

“It’s a talent, Doctor. Why don’t you tell me if it’s a pleasure or power trip.”

“Did Pressman think we would progress quicker with you at the helm or did he just tire of trying to make me out as one of his specimens?”

Dr. Farnsworth re-crossed his legs, and nervously glanced at his notes and answered, “You already know what our take on you is. You’re schooled to understand every question and how to give the right answer. That’s expected.”

“Expected because I’m in control? Because I’m of sounder mind and perhaps better schooled and experienced than you...or Dr. Pressman?”

Farnsworth shrugged, the cocky grin coming back into play. “Perhaps. But is that of any real importance here, Doctor? You see we have a choice, don’t we? I can either treat you like the schizophrenic many would have you out to be, or deal with the real you that I think is momentarily disturbed—and still resentful of his loss of license—but far from over the edge. The sooner we both make the same choice, the better.”

“You mean become buddies? Sip coffee together and casually talk about some of your really demanding cases. Cell 3 and 1 would be a hoot, eh?”

With that, Dr. Mathews sat down in his customary cross-legged position on the floor again, next to Dr. Farnsworth this time, and nodded toward the drawing. “Charles is really quite concerned on finding the complete answer, you know. He’s been quite willing to go right up to the open door, but unwilling to step through. I’m sure you heard him refer to our trip to The Cove on his tapes. We almost broke through there, but...” He tilted his head at the picture, then stood up, and walked back to his bedside, sat down on the floor and picked up the cup with Napoleon. “...He’s got a lock on the real answer.

Somewhere between his own Napoleon and that boat in the upper part of the drawing is the answer.”

Dr. Farnsworth looked at the drawing again. “Boat. Doesn’t look like a boat. Why didn’t you just draw a boat if that’s what you were getting from Charles?”

Dr. Mathews turned, holding Napoleon’s cup in his hands. “Maybe because I’m not as talented as you think? Or maybe because Charles isn’t sure and Charlie suggested the boat.”

“Is that what you think, Doctor?” asked Dr. Farnsworth. “Charles is trying to break away from Charlie?”

Dr. Mathews peered down into the cup. “You try picturing me getting sleep or having time to myself when Charles and Charlie kick in together. Tell you what. You want to score some points with Pressman? Obviously. I’ll give you the win, the series, the silver cup. You get me a walk and talk with Charles.”

Dr. Farnsworth shook his head. “You know that’s impossible. Pressman has had you two separated for six weeks. Can’t do.”

“But now he knows nothing separates us, right?”

Dr. Farnsworth opened his collar and took a deep breath. “How often have you been tapping into…?”

“Session over, Doctor. I need some sleep,” snapped Mathews as he abruptly got up and walked to the window.

Dr. Farnsworth looked at his watch. “I’ve only been here twenty minutes.”

“But your thinking is dishonorable, my young friend.” He turned from the window and walked toward the camera. “Dr. Pressman...the parking spaces for the other doctors are empty. Why? Did you reach your decision, but you’re not telling me?”

He slowly looked over his shoulder at Dr. Farnsworth’s tell-tale expression. “Even you’re thinking maybe pre-mature, yes?  Yes.

The monitor for #7 was like a frozen frame as Mathews could be seen standing immobile before Dr. Farnsworth. “Shit, shit, shit,” came the concerned whisper of Dr. Pressman. The exhale of a deep drag on a cigarette clouded the screen as Bowman asked, “Want a playback?”

“Why? What you see is not what you get anyway. I was suspicious about Mathews from Charles’s audio tapes, but I was afraid to believe it. That kind of talent is frightening in the hands of a well doctor.”

Farnsworth moved toward the door and out of frame as Mathews laid down on his bed.

“Get me in close, please, Bowman,” said Dr. Pressman with an exhausted sigh.

The screen gradually filled with the head of Mathews. His mouth was slightly upturned as if contemplating a smile. His fingers were folded like a steeple and his eyes were wide...very wide as they gazed at the ceiling.

“Mathews may already know who Charlie/Charles is,” said Dr. Pressman.

Of course it was coincidence. Of course there was a simple explanation. But, seeing Mathews turn toward Dr. Pressman’s close up camera at that instant, left both the doctor and Nurse Bowman more than just a little uncomfortable.