by Rob Horner
Travis laughed, “You know what I mean. Let’s start with the blue lines around the sign above us. See them?”
Sherry turned away from Travis and looked up at the sign. “Yeah.”
“Okay, try to see if you can make them go away.”
Not really knowing what to try made Sherry feel rather silly, standing there, holding Travis’s hand, and looking up at the rather plain “Mall Entrance” sign. Should she strain like someone trying to have a bowel movement? Should she scrunch up her face like those Harry Potter kids did when they wanted to cast a spell? Maybe if she gave a glare of death like Superman shooting laser beams out of his eyes. Or maybe if she just decided she didn’t want to see them right now…
The lines disappeared.
Relief flooded through her, mixed with apprehension. What if she needed to see…? And the lines returned.
She looked up at Travis and saw him staring at the sign, his face a comic combination of glare, scrunch, and squint. She couldn’t help herself; she laughed aloud. The look he turned on her, green eyes now wide and wondering, made her laugh harder. She stammered out, “It’s about wanting to see them or not.”
He turned back to look at the sign, and she sighed. He had a beautiful face, such a strong profile.
“Huh, so that was easy. Now,” he said, turning his combination I’m going to kill you after I squeeze out this massive turd strain-glare-face back at her, “mind telling me what was so funny?”
7
Their second entry into the mall went much better. Both ignored the green and blue lights, so the only sensation they received was the cacophonous deluge of sound.
I don’t want to hear this, Sherry thought, and the hubbub reduced in volume to a low hum. She looked up at the ceiling, letting her eyes see the current, and was rewarded with the sight of hundreds of blue lines arcing gracefully across the high ceiling and under the floor, flowing to different stores and kiosks. With a thought, she turned off the lights again. Then, as Travis led them further into the structure, heading for a nearby clothing store, Sherry experimented with her aural perceptions, allowing the buzz to increase in volume, though it remained a confusing collage of scattered thoughts. Focusing on one person at a time, snippets of coherent thought began to come clear.
A twenty-something young woman, …shouldn’t have bought that…
A middle-aged man, …forgot to get…
A child of 10 or so …new Optimus Prime toy…
Wow! Travis thought to her, and it was a sentiment with which she whole-heartedly agreed.
So far, they’d discovered they could read each other’s thoughts and could see lines of electrical current as well as the fainter trances of energy transmission. And now to find out they could hear the thoughts of complete strangers…it was staggering.
Sherry forced the random words of strangers down to a low hum, letting the familiar cadence of her own thoughts take precedence.
Turning to the east end of the mall, passing Off Broadway Shoes and Foot Locker, Travis said, “I was thinking about Kohl’s for me,” referring to the east anchor store. “Did you want to go somewhere else?”
Sherry replied, “No, I think that’s a good choice for both of us. Are you going to sit outside the dressing room while I try on clothes?”
Travis grimaced good-naturedly. “Only if you want me to. I think it’d be better if we got out of here as soon as possible.”
A random sampling of humanity dotted the mall walkway, though traffic was sparse this early in the morning. Peak shopping hours for a Saturday didn’t occur until later in the afternoon. Still, there were moms pushing strollers, some with older children in tow. A few dads ambled along, some with one of those ridiculous baby backpacks. There were older gentlemen and ladies holding hands, walking for exercise. No groups of teens strutted around the concourse or lounged inside the stores—they were probably sleeping off a late-night Xbox session or midnight Facebook postings.
New assaults on smell and sight began as they passed a Bath and Body Works, followed immediately by the brilliant sparkle of two jewelry stores, E & N Jewelry and Kay Jewelers. One of the last stores on this side of the corridor, just before the entrance to Kohl’s, was also one of the oldest in the mall, having outlasted numerous ownership changes and remodels. The Bit of England Dart and Game Shoppe, which started out as a store dedicated to high quality dart boards and dart accessories, pool cues and chess sets, had evolved with the times and now featured other forms of tabletop card and board games.
Sherry relaxed her grip on Travis’s hand as they approached the entrance to Kohl’s, but he tightened the hold momentarily, as if reluctant to let her go. She noticed and relished the feeling of being wanted and needed. But it was his idea to separate, after all. “Just tell me when and where to meet you.”
“How about right back here in, oh, say, an hour?”
Sherry checked her watch. “So, at 12:30?”
“Yeah.”
“I…okay.” Suddenly Sherry felt that losing sight of Travis would be too much, a blow she couldn’t handle.
But that was foolishness, wasn’t it? They could handle an hour apart, especially considering they hadn’t been together much longer than that. Her heart beat a faster rhythm in her chest as she realized just how much he’d come to mean to her in such a short time. It was frightening, yet also reassuring. It just felt so…right.
No, it felt like something had been wrong for a very long time, but now had been made right.
Smiling away her fears, Sherry turned left at the cash registers, heading for the women’s section, leaving Travis to wander in the other direction.
8
Robert Barnes offered no commentary on the drive from Agent Bassett’s apartment to the house of Victoria Galer. His thoughts were turned inward, working through his plans, trying to decide the best course of action to turn this situation to his advantage. He decided the death of Angela Bassett, still terrifying in the callous manner Agent Travers carried it out, was for the best. Dead, she couldn’t testify Lieutenant Barnes was aware of her growing affection for Travis, or that he’d given tacit approval for her to pursue a greater relationship.
What he needed was an exit point from his involvement in the capture operation. Despite the high quality of their remote communications with Watchtower, this could be managed better there, with three or four sets of eyes and ears looking, listening, probing through traffic cameras and monitoring other forms of digital surveillance. There was too much input for one technician to manage and promptly communicate. He would have to push to move the operation to Watchtower.
And once there, it would be easier to arrange his own getaway.
He couldn’t forget the Captain Ortega variable. What would he bring to the table? Would he make it easier or harder for Barnes? It was imperative that he be present inside Watchtower with the captain for at least a little while, to use his hidden receiver to record as much as possible. The more rope he could collect, the easier it would be to hang everyone else and be the last man standing.
“Straight ahead of us,” Agent Black said, drawing Barnes’ attention to the view through the windshield, where a gray Nissan Sentra was double-parked behind an older model blue Pontiac Grand Am.
“Looks like we might have caught them at home,” Black added, which drew a derisive snort from Agent Kirkson. Barnes agreed with Kirkson. The chances of Travis and Sherry being at this location were exceedingly small. He’d developed a healthy respect for Travis, based solely on his activities thus far.
He’d had the technical knowledge to remove the GPS transponder without setting off its alarm while maintaining the presence of mind to keep it with him until he was at a location he visited regularly. He’d shown the foresight to retrieve as much money as possible from his bank accounts. He obviously anticipated a lengthy period they might have to live off the grid.
And somehow, he’d convinced Sherry to go with him, when all prior reports showed they’d never spoken to ea
ch other before that morning.
Can’t forget that.
Pulling up to the curb on the side of the road, Agent Travers parked the SUV in front of the modest ranch home. “Quickly now,” Black said from the back seat. “If they’re in there, we need to subdue them as fast as possible.”
Travers exited more slowly, moving inexorably up the sidewalk to the front door, with Black and Kirkson each standing to one side. Lieutenant Barnes walked up to stand beside Agent Travers as he depressed the doorbell button.
A female voice—not Sherry’s—called through the door, “Who is it?”
“FBI,” Agent Travers answered, his deep voice radiating authority. “Please open your door.”
“And I should just believe you?” the voice asked, now tinged with uncertainty.
“Unless you want your door broken in,” Agent Travers replied in a matter-of-fact tone.
“That’s not legal,” the voice said.
“Neither is harboring two fugitives from federal agents,” Travers replied. “You’ve got three seconds before damage is done.”
“I don’t suppose you’d show me your IDs?” the voice asked.
“That’s better,” Travers said, his voice radiating a combination of understanding and complete control. “If you cooperate with us now, it’ll be better for your daughter.”
“I…okay.”
There was the rasping sound of a dead bolt being withdrawn, followed by the grate of a sliding security chain. The door opened a couple of inches before the chain stopped its progress.
That was all Agent Travers needed.
With a surge of motion, he slammed his shoulder into the thick door, ripping the security chain from its fragile mount on the door jamb and drawing a startled scream from Sherry’s mother as he pushed her back and away.
“How dare you? You can’t possibly—”
“Oh, Ma’am, but I can,” he interrupted her. Moving fast, Agents Black and Kirkson hurried past Travers into the house. “Check the rooms,” Travers told them unnecessarily.
Barnes observed their actions with something akin to shock.
This was an innocent bystander, someone who had the misfortune to be mother to one of their subjects. She’d done nothing to merit treatment of this nature. In fact, if what the psychological profiles indicated was true, she’d already been the victim of a terrible lie. Yet here they were, forcing their way into her home, about to search through it, and all without providing the slightest explanation.
Then Lieutenant Barnes noted the look on Mrs. Galer’s face, a combination of anger and righteous indignation, mixed with only a small amount of fear. She wasn’t surprised. Afraid, yes, but also expecting it. If anything, she appeared resolved, like she’d been preparing herself.
“Lieutenant Barnes,” Agent Travers said, calling Robert’s attention away from Victoria Galer.
“Yes?”
“Can we see about setting up some surveillance here A.S.A.P.?”
“I’ll get Watchtower to put in the request. Standard monitoring?”
“More,” Agent Travers replied, watching Victoria Galer to see how she responded to his commands. “Get trace-back equipment.”
Lieutenant Barnes walked back out to the SUV to speak to Lisa at Watchtower and find a way to comply with Agent Travers’ demands.
9
The lines disappeared as soon as he lost contact with Sherry. Also gone was the buzzing representing the random thoughts from other customers. Sherry’s mental musings remained, a harmonious distraction. Just as they had discovered in the Focus, they no longer needed to be touching to maintain communication. Their first contact had broken the barrier. Curiously, Travis wondered how far apart they could be and remain in contact.
Travis grabbed one of the low, black half-carts Kohl’s was famous for and, as he walked past the racks of sports team themed sweatshirts and workout clothes, he concentrated, listening for her thoughts. He noticed what she approved of, what she felt was gaudy, too revealing, or just plain outrageous. Then he caught a specific thought which made him flush crimson and withdraw from her mind, reducing the volume of her wondering to a dull buzz.
Travis would like this…
Coughing, Travis left the main aisle and entered the maze of racks displaying jeans by various manufacturers: Lee, Levi’s, Apt. 9. He’d grab a couple pairs of jeans, maybe a pair of shorts or two—maybe swimming trunks if they were going to be staying in hotels—a few shirts, then head to the underwear section. Thinking of underwear made him wonder if his thoughts were as readily apparent to Sherry as hers were to him, and if she was drawing any amusement from them.
I thought you’d never ask, she said into his mind, earning a soft laugh from Travis.
How long have you been listening?
Long enough to know that you like the idea of me picking out clothes with you in mind, she replied without a hint of anger or embarrassment.
Still, Travis couldn’t resist putting up a mock defense, Yeah, well, you know—
Don’t worry, just so long as you keep me in mind while you shop, I promise not to get upset.
It’s a deal.
Travis listened for several more moments, wondering what Sherry would say next and finding that he appreciated her more and more as each new facet of her personality was revealed. They had so many things in common it was a surprise they’d managed to get along without each other for so long.
Yeah, just don’t forget whose fault it is that we found each other, Sherry said. It was a sobering reminder that, for all the enjoyment they were taking in each other’s company, there was more to it than simple attraction and compatibility.
To hell with that, Travis thought vehemently back to her. We may have been set-up, as it were, but they don’t get to claim credit for us getting along so well. I reject the idea that we were programmed to like each other.
But what if we were?
They wouldn’t have given you a husband if that were the case. Seems like a pretty good way to keep you from getting involved, doesn’t it?
So then, you think this is all natural? Sherry asked.
Well, Travis replied thoughtfully, all except for the lines, and the mind reading, yeah.
Sherry laughed again, her sudden melancholy fading as she turned her attention back to the racks of clothes. If you don’t mind then, get out of my head while I look for clothes you should appreciate.
And if I don’t like them? Travis asked jokingly.
Then you’ll just have to take them off me, Sherry replied softly.
Travis gaped as her words came in, realizing in that instant that their relationship was inevitable, as unstoppable as the Earth in its orbit. It was also a relief to hear her words of desire so clearly. And, he realized with some embarrassment, to realize that his body was already responding to the very thought of being with her.
Compliment accepted, she said, and then her mental voice faded, as she fought to limit his access to her thoughts.
Which was a good thing, as far as Travis was concerned. He had enough on his mind right then; her prior comment made sure of that.
After loading his small cart with jeans, shorts, a couple of printed T-shirts, 2 Henley-cut shirts, and an assortment of underwear and socks, Travis headed toward the cash register. His eye happened on an area of the store dedicated to clothing that was a cut above his usual choices. Smiling as he remembered Sherry’s remark about choosing clothes, he decided to try to find something she might appreciate on him, though he had no idea when he might have the opportunity to wear it.
Ah well, all good things in time.
10
“You still haven’t told me your names,” Victoria Galer complained, though Lieutenant Barnes was grateful she’d given up her pretense of outraged shock. He felt sorry for her, certainly, but was glad no names but his own had been mentioned. He felt certain that if the woman learned Agent Travers’ name, her death warrant would be signed. Call it intuition, for lack of a better term.
/> Not knowing who else to trust this little operation to, Barnes called in Harry, the Watchtower technician. So far, he’d been instrumental in identifying the changes in Travis and Sherry’s behavior. If the sudden duty inconvenienced him, Harry didn’t show it. If anything, the young man appeared more excited than at any other time in Barnes’ memory. Nothing motivated like a promised relief from boredom.
The subject of the lieutenant’s speculation was finishing his modification of the phone lines in the Galer household. Simple recording equipment combined with a sophisticated computer tied into the phone company via the Internet—using a back door in their security programs which Harry proudly claimed he’d hacked himself—gave the agents the ability to trace any incoming calls the instant the connection was made. There would be no hushed “keep them on the phone for one minute” instructions. More than just a number, the program would also provide the name of the person or organization to whom the number belonged, as well as its current street address or coordinates, if it was mobile.
“Done,” Harry said triumphantly, rising from his crouched position behind Victoria’s entertainment center, an unfortunate place to locate the living room’s only phone outlet, as the young technician vocally complained.
“Thanks, Harry,” Lieutenant Barnes said, offering the man a small smile.
“Will we need to operate this stuff?” Agent Travers asked harshly, drawing a surprised look from Harry.
“No, sir. The computer will automatically research any incoming calls and give you the name, number, and address. You won’t need to do anything, since it’ll reset itself after every call. The recorder is automatic as well, starting the instant a call is received, and stopping when it is disconnected.”
“Anything else, Harry?” Lieutenant Barnes asked.
“Yes, I mean no.” He cast a searching look at Lieutenant Barnes. “Unless you need anything else from me?”
“That’ll be all,” Travers said, managing to loom even as he sat on Victoria Galer’s couch. The homeowner sat in the room’s only reclining chair, though she maintained it in the upright position, with no intention of relaxing.