“No. Please remain silent or you’ll disrupt the survey.” Dr. Campbell finally set the device aside. “Mild concussion. Courtesy of the blow to the head you’ve taken in the last twenty-four hours. Your watch is a cheap manual windup. Did your digital watch malfunction? It did, of course it did. Power drain. This is a recent development. You’re investigating Sean’s death, which presumably means you’ve ventured near the Jeffers site. Explain what transpired.”

I told him about the supercollider track, the sounds of klaxons and motors, and the sensation of a wave of electricity passing through my body.

“You were in the unfinished sector. Rest assured, there are almost certainly a multitude of subsections, some capable of housing equipment and conducting experiments far from prying eyes.”

“The locals who’ll talk believe black ops are ongoing,” I said.

“This was not your first encounter,” Dr. Campbell said. “An electromagnetic wave accounts for much. Don’t fret; the side effects of your exposure will dissipate in due course. Other readings are mystifying. You either resonate on a variable frequency intrinsically or some trauma is the cause. Has anyone subjected you to hypnotic regression? Have you been bombarded by infrasound?”

“Infrasound. A year ago.”

“Projected by a human or animal? Was it acoustic—a fabricated device or a naturally occurring phenomenon such as wind moving through a sound garden of porous stones?”

“An Aztec death whistle is the closest object I can compare it to. It emitted an almost human shriek.” Then I explained it was a weapon employed by the Croatoan.

“The serial killer?”

“The same.”

“In the days of antiquity when I consulted with Zircon Corporation, their R&D department kept close tabs on the police action in Vietnam. Rumors persist that this ‘Croatoan’ was created in partnership by our intelligence services and military contractors. What were the effects of his device?”

“Paralysis. Terror. I’ve heard it’s capable of more severe effects.”

“Loss of bowel control? Hemorrhaging? Hallucinations?”

“Narrowed vision. Yes, intermittent hallucinations.”

“Infrasound can inflict long-term damage,” he said. “Subsidiary effects may present months or years following the initial trauma. Properly calibrated, the ongoing damage can be intensified and manipulated along a behavioral spectrum. Conditioned response at the benign end, progressing to various stages of mind control, including triggerable implantation. The practical applications are endless. The military industrial complex is infatuated.”

“Someone may have attempted hypnotic suggestion,” I said hesitantly, reluctant to receive more unpleasant news.

“Elucidate, please.”

I described the strange aural effects I’d encountered at Redlick Manor.

“Distressing,” Dr. Campbell said, not remotely distressed.

“Mandibole was a stage performer, a ventriloquist—”

“Young man, I’ve consulted with the Redlick Group. Its staff is known to me. The Redlick patriarchs, past and present, are known to me. To my detriment, to my shame. I am intimately aware of Thomas Mandibole’s credentials. I am aware of his nature. I am aware of his capabilities.” Dr. Campbell’s tone reminded me of Delia’s naked antipathy toward the Redlick Group frontman. “He is the herald of House Redlick and a supplicant to abominations. Neither a petty magician nor a ventriloquist, rather an anathema who poses as a common charlatan to lull his enemies.”