The Dreaming Ward

With the bookshop doing well and with the prospect of regaining good standing with the university library, things seem to be looking up for Karabekian. And yet, a shadow seems to follow him and he iften finds himself looking nervously over his shoulder. He has trouble sleeping at night. He spends more and more time shut in with his books.

Larry had help at the bookstore, but has had to let almost all of them go. He spends most of his time reading and trying to acquire more books and leads to antique collections.

The progress he has made with the Book of Dreams has Karabekian hungry to learn more. He takes every opportunity to visit the library in search of texts on the occult. It's sometimes difficult to separate the wheat from the chaff as it were, but Karabekian seeks true sources of knowledge among the ocean of dabblers and dilletantes.

Karabekian looks the paper over. Here was a way to regain his good standing with the University, possibly deal with the nightmares, and earn a few dollars on the side. There didn't seem to be a downside. "Bring three friends." Who might he take with him? Karabekian considers his neighbor, Lou, a former security guard who recently got laid off. Getz, perhaps. And Marc. Karabekian nods his assent.

What follows is a letter sealed with wax and delivered to the domicile of one Luis Joaquin Karabekian:

"On the matter of reviewing a particular piece of literature,

My distinguished colleague, I hope my letter finds you in good health, as there is something on which I would greatly desire further correspondence. I prefer this medium to the telegram for matters of secrecy. I trust you would rather not have revealed the contents of our discussion, pertaining to a certain book you were searching for, some weeks ago. Was it months at this point? I do remember you had a desire to read certain passages in it, and had inquired upon my professional expertise regarding more accessible manuscripts. I had not heard much of the matter at the time, and my schedule was woefully occupied, but I write now to inform you that I believe I can be of more assistance, on this and related conversation topics. It is my understanding that your interests would be best served by a personal meeting. Perhaps somewhere more private than the shop.

Hoping the best for your future endeavors,
James C. Wilson
Charlie"

Karabekian hires a boy to deliver his reply written on plain paper in his crisp handwriting.

C,

I trust my letter finds you well. As for myself, I believe I am recovered sufficiently from the sleeplesness I complained about when we last spoke.

I was very pleased to receive your correspondence today, and am looking forward resuming our collaborations. Apropos, I have just been presented an opportunity which could prove quite enlightening, and wish to extend to you an an invitation to join me. I shall withold the details until our private meeting (soon, I hope!) but will mention in advance that it will involve a trip of sorts that could potentially take three days. I understand you might have prior commitments and so will not begrudge it if you are indisposed. But I am getting ahead of myself! I look forward to our next meeting at your earliest convenience. Send word, and I will be there.

At your service, as always,
K

The reply comes by way of telegram this time:

"K

WILL TAKE DINNER AT A BOOTH IN THE BACK OF BICKFORDS STOP EXPECT ME TOMORROW STOP COME ALONE STOP

C"

After the usual pleasantries Karabekian asks the staff for a cup of hot water and produces his own loose-leaf tea which he steeps for an inordinately long time before partaking.

"Well then.Somehow I get the feeling you didn't come just to hear about the little trip I mentioned. Is there something the matter? Is there something can I do for you?"

Charlie gives a dismissive wave,

"Why the hurry, Harry? I haven't even placed my order."

He got a coffee and an egg salad sandwich, and proceeded to take his sweet time enjoying both, all the while chattering away with small-talk to no one in particular. Karabekian was there, but had no indicator Charlie would have fallen silent without company present. When the sandwich was crumbs and the coffee was a brown stain at the bottom of the cup, only then did he set into the real reason both of them had come.

"I'm sure the trip was well worth your time, but word has it you've got new things on the horizon. I think my assistance would be good for more than idle conversation on this particular outing. Am I wrong?"

Karabekian puts down his teacup, troubled. "'Word', you say? What word, and from whom?"

"Oh bits and bobs from little birds. But let's not get tangled up in particulars. I think you've got use for my help, and the word I'm looking for is yes."

Karbekian is a man who values his privacy. Here is a possible breach of said privacy which Wilson is dismissing with a flippant reply. The man has a way about him that Karabekian has always found somewhat off-putting, but has tolerated given the man's stimulating intellect. Karabekian purses his lips, unwilling to let the matter drop but not wishing to sour their relations. He decides it can wait. He shows Wilson the newspaper cutting.

"You, me, and two other associates of mine. If you say yes, and I hope that you do, I shall contact Doctor Thorne and make the arrangements."

"The money is decent, but nothing spectacular. Can't imagine the provided meals will be all that special. When is this study set to transpire?"

Karabekian smiles wryly and gestures at Wilson's cashmere suit and silk tie. "I imagine the pay is of no consequence to you. As for myself, my purpose is purely academic. I will attempt to set a us a soonish date."