would recognize. Over thirty-one hundred in all. Take my word for it?”
“Yes.”
He turned to look at me, although the movement clearly pained him. “You mean it?”
“Yes.”
Looking gratified, he closed file A and opened B. More names and addresses, also in alphabetical order, and this time the scroll was slow enough to pick out several names I recognized. Stefan Drew, the compulsive walker; Emil Klein, the dirt eater; Patricia Farmingdale, who had poured salt in her eyes. This list was much shorter than the first one. Before it ended, I saw Robert Rivard go sliding by.
“These are the ones who have suffered significant post-cure aftereffects. Eighty-seven in all. As I believe I told you the last time we met, it amounts to less than three percent of the total. Once there were over a hundred and seventy names in File B, but many have stopped having problems—in medical parlance, they have resolved. As you have. I stopped following my cures eight months ago, but if I’d kept on, I’m sure this list would be even shorter. The ability of the human body to recover from trauma is extraordinary. With the proper application of this new electricity to the cortex and the nerve tree, that ability is effectively unlimited.”
“Who are you trying to convince? Me or you?”
He blew his breath out in a disgusted pah sound. “What I’m trying to do is set your mind at rest. I’d rather have a willing assistant than a reluctant one.”
“I’m here. I’ll do what I promised . . . if you can cure Astrid. Let that be enough.”
There was a soft knock at the door.
“Come,” Jacobs said.
The woman who entered had the plump, matronly figure of the Good Gramma in a children’s story and the beady eyes of a dick in a department store. She set a tray down on the table in the parlor, then stood with her hands clasped primly in front of her plain black dress. Jacobs rose with another grimace, then tottered. In my first act as his assistant—in this new stage of our lives, at least—I caught his elbow and steadied him. He thanked me and led me out of the study.
“Norma, I’d like you to meet Jamie Morton. He’ll be with us at least through breakfast tomorrow, and back for a longer stay this summer.”
“Pleased,” she said, and held out her hand. I shook it.
“You don’t know what a victory that handshake represents for Norma,” Jacobs said. “Since childhood, she’s had a deep aversion to touching people. Haven’t you, dear? Not a physical problem, you’ll notice, but a psychological one. Nevertheless, she’s been cured. I think that’s interesting, don’t you?”
I told Norma it was nice to meet her, holding her hand a moment longer than necessary. I saw her mounting unease, and let loose. Cured, but perhaps not completely cured. That was interesting, too.
“Miss Knowlton says she’ll bring your patient to dinner a bit early tonight, Mr. Jacobs.”
“All right, Norma. Thank you.”
She left. We ate. It was light fare, but sat heavily in my stomach, just the same. My nerves felt all on the outside, sizzling my skin. Jacobs ate slowly—as if to taunt me—but at last he set aside his empty soup bowl. He seemed about to reach for another slice of bread, then looked at his watch and pushed back from the table instead.
“Come with me,” he said. “I think it’s time you saw your old friend.”
• • •
The door across the hall was marked RESORT PERSONNEL ONLY. Jacobs led me through a large outer office furnished with bare desks and empty shelves. The door to the inner office was locked.
He said, “Other than the security company that supplies twenty-four-seven gate guards, my staff consists of just Rudy and Norma. And while I trust them both, I see no need to put temptation in their way. And the temptation to peek at the unsuspecting is a strong one, wouldn’t you say?”
I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure I could have. My mouth was as dry as old carpet. There were a dozen monitors in all, stacked in three rows of four. Jacobs pushed the power button on RESTAURANT CAMERA 3. “I believe this is the one we want.” Cheerful. Like a cross between Pastor Danny and a game show host.
It seemed to take forever before a black-and-white picture swam into view. The restaurant was large, with at least fifty tables, but only one was occupied. Two women were sitting there, but at first I could only see Jenny