Raga Six (A Doctor Orient Occult Novel) Read Online Free

black cowboy shirt emblazoned with silver eagles on each shoulder. Rodeo must be in town, Orient mused. He went back to his thoughts.  
    Through all the experiments with his communicants, he had been unable to bridge one vital gap. Common understanding. Probably that was why the tape was a failure. A twinge of defeat scratched at the memory of the uncompleted reel of videotape he had turned over to Andy.  
    His definitive statement.  
    His intention had been to make a visual presentation of everything he had discovered concerning human telepathic potential. He had also had a further ambition; he set out to blend science and art so skillfully, that not only would the viewer understand telepathic technique, but his own dormant powers would be stimulated to awareness in the process. Ultimate communication of communication.  
    He hadn’t been up to it. He had completely scrapped most of it. Pretentious footage of colts being born, birds in flight; a worthless cliché.  
    Still, the tape project was the one thread of his life he intended to pick up and use again. He smelled burning leaves.  
    He automatically turned toward the source of the scent. The cowboy was sitting head back, looking at the tops of the trees, smoking a cigarette. He became aware of Orient watching him and slowly got to his feet. He bent down and carefully adjusted his jeans over his high brown boots. Then he straightened up and gave Orient a long deliberate stare.  
    Orient felt a vibration of recognition. There was something familiar about the red-haired man. The cowboy turned and began strolling up the path, the smell of burning leaves fading after him. A wave of comprehension washed over Orient’s mind. The cowboy was a potential. Orient watched him disappear around a curve. And the cowboy hadn’t been smoking tobacco.  
    A few months ago he would have done everything possible to recruit the cowboy’s telepathic talent. Help him understand and develop it. Today the man was just another stranger. He had his own potential to develop.  
    He’d have to find some kind of work he could do. Medical research was out. It would be another form of removal. He needed something that would put him in touch with people. He stood up, picked up his bag, and started walking through the park.  
    His mind jumped back to the cowboy. Potentials weren’t commonplace after all. In the past four years he’d found only eight. And five of them weren’t able to complete their training. Maybe he should have tried to talk to the man.  
    He veered off the path and walked across the grass to a group of rocks. He climbed up onto the lowest ledge and leaned back against the stone, gazing at the distant 59th Street skyline.  
    He needed some place to stay. Perhaps a hotel with weekly rates.  
    But even that was only a temporary measure. In a few days he’d be out of money and in the same situation. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. He picked up his bag and began walking slowly south toward the skyline. By the time he reached the zoo he was hungry.  
    In the past he often enjoyed long walks along the Hudson and through the park, but he had always avoided this section, with its cramped cages and musky stench of animal flesh moldering in captivity. Today, however, he saw the gaudily decorated outdoor patio of the cafeteria and decided to stop for something to eat.  
    He went inside, took a tray, and looked for some food that approximated his own special diet. The closest he could come was a jar of yogurt, honey, a carrot and raisin salad and chocolate malted with a raw egg. He was pleased to discover that the whole meal came to less than he had paid for three glasses of orange juice that morning. He made a mental note to eat here more often.  
    Carrying his full tray and suitcase proved to be an intricate maneuver so he sat down at the first available table. He set the bag down next to his chair and looked around. The long-haired cowboy was sitting at the next table,