Falling Awake

Scargill? Any sign of him?”
    “Got a hunch he’s doped to the gills on an experimental dream-enhancing drug called CZ-149.”
    “That rings a bell,” Dave said. “I think Katherine may have mentioned it.”
    “It was developed at Frey-Salter under the direction of Dr. Maureen Sage, aka Amelia Netley. She’s an expert on psycho-pharmaceutical drugs. The stuff was probably based on whatever formula she used on the inmates at Brackleton. Lawson okayed some tests on it but halted the experiments because of the side effects. Later he transferred Sage out of the agency. She’s the woman he had the affair with. She was not a happy camper when she left. In hindsight, I think it’s probably safe to say she was seriously pissed.”
    “What are the side effects of this CZ-149?” Dave asked in a subdued voice.
    “I never tried it, personally. One of the first things I learned working for Lawson was never to volunteer for any of his damned experiments. But I heard that the CZ-149 makes it difficult for Level Five subjects to distinguish the boundaries between their dreams and waking reality.”
    “That could get a little wild.”
    “I’m told the confusion can last for hours. The stronger the dose, the longer it messes up your mind. Wouldn’t be surprised if that’s how Amelia is controlling Scargill. He may have been so desperate to regain his Level Five dreaming capability after he was injured that he’s allowing her to inject him with the crap.”

    “What are you going to do? Call the cops?”
    “I can’t take the risk. Amelia would kill Isabel in a heartbeat if she thinks she’s been double-crossed. But if I can get to Roxanna Beach ahead of schedule and without Amelia knowing that I’m in town, I might be able to do something before she realizes that I’m in the neighborhood. But I’m going to need your help.”
    “You don’t need to ask twice. What do you want me to do?”
    Ellis told him.
    “Oh, man,” Dave whispered, awestruck. “I get to drive the Maserati?”

39
    i know what your tsunami dream means,” Isabel said quietly. She sat on the floor in the corner of the old, tumble-down concession stand, her knees curled under her, hands tied behind her back.
    Amelia had forced her into the back of the florist’s van at gunpoint. There had been no opportunity to shout for help or to attract attention because the van was parked in a little-used section of the parking lot behind the main building.
    There had been an additional complication in the shape of a twitchy, mean, slightly crazy-looking little man in a black knit cap, black sweatshirt and black cargo pants. She assumed he was another graduate of the Brackleton Correctional Facility’s experiment in behavior modification. His name was Yolland and heseemed to think he was on a mission to thwart the actions of an agent who worked for a global corporation that was intent on polluting the environment.
    The fog had grown thicker and heavier as evening approached. Yolland had driven the van cautiously along the winding road to the abandoned amusement park on the lonely bluffs outside Roxanna Beach.
    Amelia had walked Isabel through the gate in the high, chain-link fence. Once inside the grounds Isabel was steered through the eerie, foggy shadows created by the rows of sagging, boarded-up concession booths, arcades and dark, looming thrill rides.
    It was after five. The shutters closing the opening at the front of the stand had been partially pulled aside. There was enough gray, misty light left in the day to illuminate the shadowy interior. She could make out the faded image of a corn dog on the back wall.
    A tall man in his early twenties with a thin, bearded face and haunted eyes had been waiting inside the concession stand. Vincent Scargill looked even more jittery and unstable than Yolland. Either that or he was feverish, Isabel thought. There was a film of sweat on his brow.
    “I still say we don’t need her,” Scargill had muttered, wiping his forehead with his sleeve.
    “She will ensure that Cutler remains cooperative.” Amelia had checked the screen of her small phone where she was watching the progress of Ellis’s car. “He’s making good time. Should be here in another hour and a half. Keep an eye on Isabel. I’m goingto make sure Yolland is in position. I also want to check on some of the other arrangements.”
    “What other arrangements?” Scargill had asked, blotting more perspiration off his brow. “It’s supposed