Нора Робертс – Mind Over Matter: the classic story from the queen of romance that you won’t be able to put down (страница 8)

Cauldwell stemmed obvious impatience to take her hand. “A pleasure, Miss DeBasse. I read both your books to give myself a feel for your segment of the program.”

“That’s very kind of you. I hope you enjoyed them.”

“I don’t know if ‘enjoyed’ is the right word.” He gave a quick shake of his head. “They certainly gave me something to think about.”

“Miss DeBasse is ready to start whenever you’re set.”

“Great. Would you mind taking a seat over here. We’ll take a voice test and recheck the lighting.”

As Cauldwell led her away, David saw A.J. watching him like a hawk. “You make a habit of hovering over your clients, A.J.?”

Satisfied that Clarissa was all right for the moment, A.J. turned to him. “Yes. Just the way I imagine you hover over your directors.”

“All in a day’s work, right? You can get a better view from over here.”

“Thanks.” She moved with him to the left of the studio, watching as Clarissa was introduced to Alex Marshall. The veteran newscaster was tall, lean and distinguished. Twenty-five years in the game had etched a few lines on his face, but the gray threading through his hair contrasted nicely with his deep tan. “A wise choice for your narrator,” she commented.

“The face America trusts.”

“There’s that, of course. Also, I can’t imagine him putting up with any nonsense. Bring in a palm reader from Sunset Boulevard and he’ll make her look like a fool regardless of the script.”

“That’s right.” A.J. sent him an even look. “He won’t make a fool out of Clarissa.”

He gave her a slow, acknowledging nod. “That’s what I’m counting on. I called your office last week.”

“Yes, I know.” A.J. saw Clarissa laugh at something Alex said. “Didn’t my assistant get back to you?”

“I didn’t want to talk to your assistant.”

“I’ve been tied up. You’ve very nearly recreated Clarissa’s living room, haven’t you?”

“That’s the idea. You’re trying to avoid me, A.J.” He shifted just enough to block her view, so that she was forced to look at him. Because he’d annoyed her, she made the look thorough, starting at his shoes, worn canvas high-tops, up the casual pleated slacks to the open collar of his shirt before she settled on his face.

“I’d hoped you catch on.”

“And you might succeed at it.” He ran his finger down her lapel, over a pin of a half-moon. “But she’s going to get in the way.” He glanced over his shoulder at Clarissa.

She schooled herself for this, lectured herself and rehearsed the right responses. Somehow it wasn’t as easy as she’d imagined. “David, you don’t seem to be one of those men who are attracted to rejection.”

“No.” His thumb continued to move over the pin as he looked back at her. “You don’t seem to be one of those women who pretend disinterest to attract.”

“I don’t pretend anything.” She looked directly into his eyes, determined not a flicker of her own unease would show. “I am disinterested. And you’re standing in my way.”

“That’s something that might get to be a habit.” But he moved aside.

It took nearly another forty-five minutes of discussion, changes and technical fine-tuning before they were ready to shoot. Because she was relieved David was busy elsewhere, A.J. waited patiently. Which meant she only checked her watch half a dozen times. Clarissa sat easily on the sofa and sipped water. But whenever she glanced up and looked in her direction, A.J. was glad she’d decided to come.

The shoot began well enough. Clarissa sat with Alex on the sofa. He asked questions; she answered. They touched on clairvoyance, precognition, Clarissa’s interest in astrology. Clarissa had a knack for taking long, confusing phrases and making them simple, understandable. One of the reasons she was often in demand on the lecture circuit was her ability to take the mysteries of psi and relate them to the average person. It was one area A.J. could be certain Clarissa DeBasse would handle herself. Relaxing, she took a piece of hard candy out of her briefcase in lieu of lunch.

They shot, reshot, altered angles and repeated themselves for the camera. Hours passed, but A.J. was content. Quality was the order of day. She wanted nothing less for Clarissa.

Then they brought out the cards.

She’d nearly taken a step forward, when the slightest signal from Clarissa had her fuming and staying where she was. She hated this, and always had.

“Problem?”

She hadn’t realized he’d come up beside her. A.J. sent David a killing look before she riveted her attention on the set again. “We didn’t discuss anything like this.”

“The cards?” Surprised by her response, David, too, watched the set. “We cleared it with Clarissa.”

A.J. set her teeth. “Next time, Brady, clear it with me.”

David decided that whatever nasty retort he could make would wait when Alex’s broadcaster’s voice rose rich and clear in the studio. “Miss DeBasse, using cards to test ESP is a rather standard device, isn’t it?”

“A rather limited test, yes. They’re also an aid in testing telepathy.”

“You’ve been involved in testing of this sort before, at Stanford, UCLA, Columbia, Duke, as well as institutions in England.”

“Yes, I have.”

“Would you mind explaining the process?”

“Of course. The cards used in laboratory tests are generally two colors, with perhaps five different shapes. Squares, circles, wavy lines, that sort of thing. Using these, it’s possible to determine chance and what goes beyond chance. That is, with two colors, it’s naturally a fifty-fifty proposition. If a subject hits the colors fifty percent of the time, it’s accepted as chance. If a subject hits sixty percent, then it’s ten percent over chance.”

“It sounds relatively simple.”

“With colors alone, yes. The shapes alter that. With, say, twenty-five cards in a run, the tester is able to determine by the number of hits, or correct answers, how much over chance the subject guessed. If the subject hits fifteen times out of twenty-five, it can be assumed the subject’s ESP abilities are highly tuned.”

“She’s very good,” David murmured.

“Damned right she is.” A.J. folded her arms and tried not to be annoyed. This was Clarissa’s business, and no one knew it better.

“Could you explain how it works—for you, that is?” Alex idly shuffled the pack of cards as he spoke to her. “Do you get a feeling when a card is held up?”

“A picture,” Clarissa corrected. “One gets a picture.”

“Are you saying you get an actual picture of the card?”

“An actual picture can be held in your hand.” She smiled at him patiently. “I’m sure you read a great deal, Mr. Marshall.”

“Yes, I do.”

“When you read, the words, the phrasings make pictures in your head. This is very similar to that.”

“I see.” His doubt was obvious, and to David, the perfect reaction. “That’s imagination.”

“ESP requires a control of the imagination and a sharpening of concentration.”

“Can anyone do this?”

“That’s something that’s still being researched. There are some who feel ESP can be learned. Others believe psychics are born. My own opinion falls in between.”

“Can you explain?”

“I think every one of us has certain talents or abilities, and the degree to which they’re developed and used depends on the individual. It’s possible to block these abilities. It’s more usual, I think, to simply ignore them so that they never come into question.”

“Your abilities have been documented. We’d like to give an impromptu demonstration here, with your cooperation.”

“Of course.”

“This is an ordinary deck of playing cards. One of the crew purchased them this morning, and you haven’t handled them. Is that right?”

“No, I haven’t. I’m not very clever with games.” She smiled, half apologetic, half amused, and delighted the director.

“Now if I pick a card and hold it like this.” Alex pulled one from the middle of the deck and held its back to her. “Can you tell me what it is?”

“No.” Her smile never faded as the director started to signal to stop the tape. “You’ll have to look at the card, Mr. Marshall, think of it, actually try to picture it in your mind.” As the tape continued to roll, Alex nodded and obliged her. “I’m afraid you’re not concentrating very hard, but it’s a red card. That’s better.” She beamed at him. “Nine of diamonds.”

The camera caught the surprise on his face before he turned the card over. Nine of diamonds. He pulled a second card and repeated the process. When they reached the third, Clarissa stopped, frowning.

“You’re trying to confuse me by thinking of a card other than the one in your hand. It blurs things a bit, but the ten of clubs comes through stronger.”

“Fascinating,” Alex murmured as he turned over the ten of clubs. “Really fascinating.”

“I’m afraid this sort of thing is often no more than a parlor game,” Clarissa corrected. “A clever mentalist can do nearly the same thing—in a different way, of course.”

“You’re saying it’s a trick.”