The Tower

J A D E found the preliminary psychology reports from Allander's first institution to be revealing. When reading them, he could almost hear Allander's voice rise from the pages of the transcript. The stenographer had noted that Allander laughed a lot during the interviews.

The doctor had used the Rogers technique of questioning, pursuing a kinder, gentler approach. However, questions such as "Allander, how did that make you feel?," "What were your emotions at this time?" were too basic to allow insight into a mind like Allander's.

It seemed also that Allander understood the logic behind the doctor's methods. He'd allow the doctor to think he was making headway, then he'd say something to confuse him. He was using Skinnerian conditioning on a goddamn psychologist, Jade realized. Allander wasn't giving a great deal away, wasn't giving much up for interpretation. Instead, he guarded his thoughts like jewels, hiding them in a wash of worthless words.

Jade moved on to the tapes. Often, prison psychologists hide their tape players when interviewing subjects. Jade hoped that Allander would be less reserved if he didn't know he was being recorded.

The tapes proved to be a little better. Once in a while, Allander's answers seemed more honest. But the sincerity was not cooperative, Jade thought, just fueled by annoyance. His expressions of disgust were very real indeed.

On the third tape, Jade finally found a lapse, just one moment when Allander's language changed. His sentences got short and choppy, and Jade could tell he was truly enraged.

The doctor had asked him about the source of his anger, and Allander had exploded in a fit of verbosity.

"So, Doctor," Allander had replied, "if that is what we can call you-you're certainly not a healer, but that's a different tale, isn't it? You'd like to know the source of my anger? I can speak your tongue. See if you can keep up.

"Repression, projection, catharsis. Dr. Schlomo taught us to probe and dig. He was right on. He just never should have backed off. Well, I've shone the flashlight deeper than you can see through your round little spectacles. What there is in every little boy, I've seen it. So I can act it. Put me onstage and I'll toe the line of the unconscious. Take a peek at the future of my delusion.

"Sublimation. We forgot sublimation. The divine deflection of earthly longings. Build a tower, buy a motorcycle, sculpt a voluptuous pear. No thank you. My art doesn't mirror reality-it is reality. What I carve, I'll carve in flesh. What I paint, I'll paint in blood.

"Don't look at me with those eyes, Doctor. Take notes. Write this down. It's the key to your trade. Indulge in it, you hollow man. That's all you are. No insight except that which you want to see. Looking in rooms with the lights already on."

There was a long pause on the tape. Jade would have thought it was over except for the fact that he could still hear Allander's harsh breathing. The doctor said nothing.

Finally, Allander continued in a much calmer voice. "When children are born, they're too pure to distinguish themselves, their true selves. They try to conform their image to a societal mold. But they step forth as hollow as a chocolate Easter bunny and they need time to fill themselves with appropriate proportions of love and anger, hate and rage, kindness and despair.

"But no one speaks to the child. No one guides him through this time. He must be spoken to if he's not going to be protected. Or given a set of bearings upon which to impale his limbs. Those are the choices."

One phrase in particular caught Jade's attention: He must be spoken to if he's not going to be protected.

As a child, Allander had not been protected-he had undergone a terrible experience. On the tapes, he had said that children were pure. He seemed to pride himself on his ability to act out what others couldn't even see, as if his childhood trauma enabled him to see what only lay dormant for others.

What is it that's there in every little boy? Jade wondered. Allander made it sound worse than cancer.

At this point, there were only questions. Like who the hell was Dr. Schlomo? Jade couldn't find his name anywhere in the files, so he wasn't one of Allander's doctors. He had also run a check of the psychologists in the area, but he'd come up with nothing.

It was almost time to head to the San Francisco federal building for his meeting. He removed the tape and set it in line with the others. Three down, fourteen more to go. So far, only one bright spot in the midst of a lot of verbal manipulation, he thought, and it wasn't even that bright.

Chapter 20

J A D E sat with fifteen agents around a large table in a room on the thirty-fourth floor of the federal building. The room was stark: No pictures hung on the walls and the table was bare. The air conditioner was blasting on high, and Jade was relieved that he had jeans on instead of the thin dress pants that the agents wore.