Cult by Warren Adler Page B

room. It wasn’t fun to watch. It was awful. He was kicking and screaming all the way. It was heartbreaking….” She laughed, but it was not with joy. “We were lucky. If it hadn’t worked, we would have been sued by our own son. Maybe even worse. Heartbreaking. It ruined my husband’s heart in the end. He had been through the Brooklyn streets, wars, the Depression. But this finished him off. The old ticker gave.”
    â€œCan you give me details on this deprogramming?”
    â€œThey reverse the process. You see, the Glories stopped his ability to think, to make decisions on his own. Something to do with the brain.”
    â€œWhat did he, this deprogrammer, do to him?” Barney asked. He had been fidgeting with his fingers, now he locked them together to keep them from shaking.
    Naomi had heard about the process, but it was always cloaked.
    â€œTalk. Talk. Talk. I told you. I don’t really understand it. He believed that he would rot in some eternal hell if he wasn’t true to Father Glory. His mind absorbed it like a sponge. I’m told it clogs all receptors. The deprogrammer has to break down the fear, fight fire with fire. It worked with Franco. He came down like a rock dropped from a mountain.
    â€œHow long did it take?”
    â€œThree days. Depends, I suppose, on the person.”
    â€œIt’s incredible,” Naomi said.
Above all, a mind is free
, she told herself militantly.
    â€œSo he’s fine?” Barney asked. Telling the story had drained Mrs. Prococino. She looked exhausted, taking a moment now to sip her tea.
    â€œIt took eleven months for him to really be fine. He was afraid to go to sleep in the dark, jumpy, but mostly he slept. He had no desire to do anything. It was another nightmare. We were perpetually afraid that he would wander back, or they would come and get him. They do that. You don’t know these people.” The flume of her hate revived her.
    â€œCan you really completely blame…?” Naomi asked.
    â€œYes, I can. I saw it with my own two eyes. It’s hell.”
    â€œHow is he now?” Barney asked.
    â€œFranco’s great. He lost two years is all.” She sighed and smiled, calm now. She had saved her boy. “He’s in his third year of medical school.”
    â€œAnd does he remember?”
    â€œNot if he can help it. It embarrasses him.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œHe blames himself for letting it happen.”
    â€œEveryone is a little at fault,” Naomi said. It had come on her too fast, like a tornado. She watched as Mrs. Prococino shook her head, then sipped her tea. Naomi watched the tendons in her neck work as she swallowed, trying to figure out what she was thinking. Finally, she leveled her eyes at Naomi, seeming to search her. Naomi felt a twinge of discomfort and the sudden realization that she was being looked upon as a skeptic.
    â€œIt can happen to you, lady,” she said. “To any one of us.”
    She decided she would not express any more doubts. She had not wanted this involvement and she did not want it now. Now, she wanted to get away, to run as far from here as she could.
    Then, Mrs. Prococino appeared to retreat, as if accepting the realization that, despite all she had said, she could not properly express her passion. The interview was over. Barney stood up and held out his hand.
    â€œI really appreciate this,” he said gently. “And I’m sorry if I stirred it all up for you again.”
    Mrs. Prococino walked them to the front door and opened it. Naomi left first, starting down the stone steps edged with blooming mums. But when she turned, Barney was not behind her. He was framed in the doorway, clinging to Mrs. Prococino. They were locked in an embrace, rocking back and forth, lost in private consolation, two poor souls mourning a dead loved one. Embarrassed, Naomi turned away and got into the car.

Chapter 4
    When he slid into the car beside