Mind's Eye

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Mind's Eye Page 23

by Douglas E. Richards


  “That’s just it,” he said. “I’m not happy for me.”

  He went on to passionately explain how he was feeling, how he had changed. And that even before the Explorer expedition, he had been coming to the realization that he and Alicia weren’t in love. Not really. He had continued to fool himself, but he doubted he would have done so long enough to actually walk down the aisle. He had proposed more as a reaction to his parents’ deaths than anything else. He and Alicia had both been superficial, getting married for the wrong reasons.

  No matter what happened from here on out, Hall assured her he was going to break it off with Alicia. He had no idea what the future would hold, but being with Megan had already shown him he had set the bar too low. That a girl could be more fun to be around than he had known. That discussions could be more lively and engaging. Besides, he wasn’t sure if he even believed in the concept of marriage anymore.

  “Funny, a few days ago I was thinking the exact same thing,” said Megan. “But I didn’t believe in ESP then, either—so things can change. I’m not saying they have, by the way—I’m just saying they can.”

  She paused. “Are you sure about your feelings for Alicia? Sure that when the circumstances change and you get your life back, everything since the dumpster won’t all seem like a bad dream?”

  Hall shook his head. “No, my past before I met you was more the bad dream. My current feelings aren’t going to change.”

  He was sure of this, but also concerned. He felt more vulnerable now than at any time in his life. Megan was one of the few people impervious to his psi ability with whom he could have a relationship. He continued to feel dependent on her, and this was worrisome. The more irreplaceable and important a person was in one’s life, he supposed, the more vulnerable and afraid one became of losing them.

  And Megan was as irreplaceable as it got.

  But as he thought about it, he was forced to admit to himself that her importance had nothing to do with her being one of the few who wouldn’t see him as a leper. Even if every woman on earth were throwing themselves at him, he couldn’t imagine wanting to be with anyone else. It was time to admit that his feelings for Megan would be the same, regardless of the presence or absence of the ESP curse that Kelvin Gray’s experiments had brought into his life.

  There was something about this last thought that troubled him. Something about Gray’s experiments. What was it?

  He slapped the palm of his hand hard on his forehead as he realized what it was.

  “What?” said Megan, tilting her head in confusion.

  “I’ve been such an idiot,” he said. “We need to change our strategy. And we need to do it immediately.”

  37

  Megan scratched her head and reseated herself at the kitchen chair facing him. “What strategy?”

  “We can’t keep my psi ability secret anymore.”

  “Why not? I thought your reasoning made a lot of sense.”

  “It did. But it doesn’t anymore. First, and believe it or not, least important at the moment, I need to get rid of this curse. I’m not going to do that alone. Alex may not have been responsible for these implants, but he’s one of the top electronics and computer experts in the world, and he knows these systems. He could remove them. Or find some other way to kill off my psi ability.”

  Megan considered. “That makes sense. And the most important reason to keep this secret was for our safety. But once the press conference is over, and the story is out there, no one will have any reason to kill us anymore.”

  “I’m afraid we have to tell him immediately,” said Hall.

  Megan blinked in confusion. “I know you’re eager to lose the ESP, Nick. But we’re still probably targets. And your ability could save our lives. Why so urgent all of a sudden?”

  “Because I’ve been short-sighted and naive. When I agreed to come to Fresno with Alex, I somehow convinced myself the web surfing technology would never get approved.”

  “I know,” said Megan. “And I thought the arguments you raised with Fyfe were good ones.”

  “But you’ve already said you thought his were better.”

  Megan winced. “On paper, yours are better. But he does know mob psychology and that people would sell their own mothers for the latest gadget. He’s cynical, but I’m sure he’s also right.”

  “I’m sure he is, too. That’s the problem. The plan is to go public with all of this Tuesday morning. Have me shoot a demo of the technology. But here’s the thing. What if the exact placement of my implants is entirely responsible for my ESP? What if this ability is a simple side effect? I’d be bringing about the very disaster I wanted to prevent. Bringing the implant technology to the attention of the public would be like opening Pandora’s Box. The internal Internet we can and will adjust to. But if this brings ESP along for the ride . . .”

  Megan frowned deeply. “Yeah. That is a big problem.”

  “So I’ll confide in Alex, and only in Alex. Immediately. Make him understand the magnitude of the issue. You know I’ve rooted around in his mind and I’ve come to trust him completely. He’s not perfect, but he’s a good man in general. Well-meaning. And he can keep a secret. Especially one this important.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. And you’ve proven to be a great judge of character. At least when it comes to women,” she added with a broad smile. Then her smile vanished and she couldn’t help but mumble under her breath, “At least your recent judgment.”

  Hall hoisted himself off the granite counter and reached out for Megan’s hand to pull her up from the chair and into his arms, when there was a tentative knock at the door.

  Hall smiled. He had read that Altschuler was coming for a while now, and that even though the scientist had a keycard of his own, he wasn’t about to throw the door open without warning.

  Hall helped Megan up from the chair, but decided he shouldn’t be holding her when Altschuler came through the door.

  “Come in, Alex,” said Hall loudly.

  Turning to Megan, he added telepathically, “Well, here goes nothing. This should be . . . interesting.”

  38

  Vasily Chirkhoff stared into the pale blue eyes of the girl seated across from him at the elegant La Gastronomie Restaurant and Wine Cellar. She was stunning, with a body to match. Also exceedingly pricey. But you got what you paid for, and she was the ultimate provider of what was called in the business, the girlfriend experience.

  The restaurant was French and five-star, with white satin tablecloths, elaborate chandeliers, and huge, baroque oil paintings in equally baroque frames. If not for the tables, it could have been a room in the Louvre. But Vasily’s philosophy was that when one was spending this much on a companion, one shouldn’t cut corners on dining. And the Russian had money to spare.

  The waiter came over to take their order. Vasily ordered the 1998 Gaja Barbaresco, which cost three hundred dollars a glass, one for him and one for the girl, who called herself Jasmine. He loved the name as much as he loved everything else about this exquisite creature, who was unsurpassed with her mouth, but who wasn’t shy about begging him to take advantage of her two other ports of entry as well.

  “It’s an Italian vintage,” explained Vasily to the girl. “Piedmont, to be precise. From the winery of Angelo Gaja.” He smiled. “You will love this,” he added. “Guaranteed.”

  “I love everything you give me, Vasily,” she said with a sly smile.

  They had each finished half a glass when their salad course arrived, and Jasmine told Vasily that it was the best wine she’d ever had. The one problem with call girls, he knew, was that they tended to tell you what you wanted to hear. So even if she thought it tasted like piss—which she probably had actually tasted, come to think of it, while entertaining men who were into that sort of thing—she would tell him just what she had. But in this case, he tended to believe it was true. The Gaja Barbaresco was just that good.

  Vasily’s phone vibrated in the middle of a mouthful of his lamb sa
lad, which contained wilted spinach, warm pommery mustard vinaigrette dressing, feta cheese, and pine nuts. He frowned. He was old school about answering his phone during dinner. He wanted to soak in the taste and texture of the meal, its presentation, and the God-created, immaculate sculpture sitting across from him. Still, he glanced down to see who was calling.

  His frown deepened. It was John Delamater, his principle benefactor, and the only person he would allow to interrupt the ambiance he had created for himself. Vasily hadn’t heard from Delamater since the man had changed plans and called Vasily off the hunt for Nick Hall.

  “I’m so sorry, my dear,” Vasily said to his companion, “but I need to take this.”

  Jasmine smiled serenely. “Of course,” she said.

  He turned away from her and answered. “Yes?”

  “Vasily. Sorry to disturb you. But I wanted to thank you for your two years of service. You have been quite competent and dependable, and I have appreciated that.”

  Vasily’s heart constricted. Delamater was ruthless and wasn’t the type to call with a random thank you. It sounded as though he was being fired. But Delamater wasn’t the type to fire people, either. His personnel changes were far more. . . permanent.

  Vasily lowered the phone and took a quick survey of the room, but didn’t see anything suspicious. On the other hand, his quick survey had taken a few seconds longer than it should have.

  He looked across at Jasmine, whose eyes were becoming droopy, and he knew: Delamater had managed to slip something into the wine. He was always on guard when visiting with Delamater, knowing this day would come, but the chess grandmaster had easily bested him, not caring in the least that Vasily’s call girl companion would inevitably become collateral damage.

  Vasily cursed himself. He had become predictable. His tastes in women, restaurants, and wine too easy to exploit. And now he would pay for this with his life.

  “I planned a fail-safe if you tried to kill me, John. Photos and video of you that will be released to authorities upon my death. Believe it. So there had better be an antidote,” he threatened as lethargy began seeping into his bones. “Or your precious identity is blown.”

  “Yes, Vasily, I’ve known about your fail-safe for some time now. But rest easy. It’s been thoroughly disarmed. Nothing will be released.”

  His calm tone made Vasily certain he was telling the truth. Which meant Vasily had miscalculated twice. He had always believed Delamater would end his employment face-to-face. That he was so psychopathic he would want to kill Vasily with his own hand, savoring the moment when the Russian was facing a gun, knowing he had only seconds to live. That was when Vasily planned to reveal his insurance policy. His ability to expose an identity Delamater held so dear. But Delamater had easily outmaneuvered him.

  A feeling of total contentment settled over Vasily as he continued to drift into a stupor. It was a measure of the regard Delamater held him in, he knew, to have chosen a drug that would lead him to his death gently rather than in agony, as many other choices could have done.

  “Why?” asked Vasily.

  “It was necessary,” replied Delamater. “I only wish this weren’t the case.”

  Jasmine had already fallen forward onto her half-eaten Hearts of Romaine salad and several waiters were rushing over to check on her condition. Vasily ignored them. “I’ll be waiting for you in hell, you bastard,” he said. “And I’ll take my revenge across all eternity.” He had tried to put some venom into this with the last of his energy, but the words came out soft and dreamy.

  “Very poetic,” said Delamater. “But I’m afraid I’m destined for the other place.”

  Vasily tried to respond, but his tongue was now too thick, and he collapsed onto the table as had Jasmine before him, unable to hear the gasps and confusion erupting in his favorite restaurant.

  39

  Alex Altschuler entered the suite with a sack full of cardboard boxes filled with steaming cuisine.

  They spread the boxes on the small kitchen table, stuck spoons in each, and passed around the heavy beige plates they found in a cabinet. Soon they each had a pile of rice covered with multiple chicken and beef dishes. Hall allowed Altschuler to finish half of his plate before he decided not to delay getting to the point any longer.

  While Altschuler continued to eat, Hall told him he wanted to reveal something important, and swore him to absolute secrecy. He would be able to tell no one, including Fyfe or Cowan. No one. If Altschuler thought that might be a problem, he needed to tell them now.

  The bespectacled scientist was perplexed and a bit wary, but he said he would keep it a secret. Hall read from his mind he was absolutely sincere in this, as he had expected.

  While Altschuler and Megan finished their meals, Hall explained how he had come to realize he could read minds, and provided additional background information. Altschuler was skeptical and taken aback, as anyone would be, but not after Hall provided an unimpeachable demonstration of the effect.

  “Holy shit!” said Altschuler after the demonstration. “Holy mother of God. I wouldn’t have been this shocked if aliens had flown out of your ass.” But as he thought about it a moment longer, he decided it wasn’t as impossible as it had first seemed. After all, hadn’t Gray managed, with Altschuler’s unknowing help, to get Hall’s implants to pick up his thoughts? Wasn’t this a form of mind reading? And as part of their functioning, the implants needed to amplify electrical impulses coming from parts of Hall’s brain. Could this amplification have been responsible?

  “Let me explain why I told you about this,” said Hall. “Mind reading turns out to be a curse.”

  “Really? It seems like it would be awesome,” said Altschuler with the enthusiasm of a geek being told the next installment of his favorite comic book had arrived.

  “That’s only because you haven’t spent even a second thinking about it,” said Hall. “When you do, you’re going to be very uncomfortable being anywhere near me. Although,” he hastened to point out, “I promise not to root around your mind for anything embarrassing. Or anything that would expose any vulnerabilities.”

  Altschuler swallowed hard. Holy Hell! Hall was right. His head was packed with thoughts and memories of which he wasn’t particularly proud. He thought about some of the pornography that appealed to him and shuddered. And there was far more. Ugly thoughts. Ugly deeds. Thoughts and actions he had regretted. Insecurities in areas he would never want exposed.

  A sick expression came over his face. “Can you turn it off?” he asked

  “No. But I can turn it down. And I can choose what thoughts I focus on, and whose mind I mine for information. I’m trying to stay out of your thoughts,” Hall tried to reassure him once again, “but there isn’t a human alive who won’t grasp the horror of having their every secret and private thought violated.”

  Hall raised his eyebrows. “But maybe you think it’s only horrific to have your mind read. Maybe you think being on the other side of the equation, being the one doing the reading, would be great fun. If so, think again. First, the chatter never ends. Second, people tend to be judgmental and unkind. Even people who like you. Even women I pass who think I’m reasonably attractive are often critical about some aspect of my appearance.”

  Altschuler grimaced. Hall was far closer to the standard of male handsomeness than he was. He wondered how many people he passed in malls thought the word geek, or loser, or ugly as he walked by. He was already self-conscious. What would a week with ESP do to him? He’d probably never leave his house again. Would he then decide to lash out at society?

  The computer scientist’s mouth fell open as he had a sudden realization. Then his jaw tightened and he glared at Hall. “You’ve promised not to invade my mind. Now. But you already have, haven’t you?”

  Hall remained silent, but his guilty expression said it all.

  “So that’s what the visit to the grocery store was about. While I was hovering over a bunch of egg cartons you were roto-rooting my brain. That�
��s when you decided you could trust me. Because you knew you could trust me.”

  “That’s right,” said Hall softly. “And why I know I can trust you now. You’re a good man. With far more integrity than most.”

  Altschuler was glad to learn of Hall’s high opinion of his integrity, but he still felt violated. And Hall was right, he did want to get away from him as quickly as he could. It was a visceral reaction that was very strong, and standing his ground took some real will power. He wondered how Megan Emerson had managed it for so long. Not only managed to stay in the same room with Hall, but, he had no doubt, to get far closer even than this.

  Hall went on to describe the six-to-ten-mile range of his ability, how certain thoughts could pierce through the noise, due to their intrinsic nature or to the cocktail party effect, and how he could choose to focus on the thoughts of single individuals and separate them out.

  Hall and Megan then made many of the points they had discussed with each other over lunch. Points about society and the catastrophic nature of ESP if unleashed.

  But Altschuler needed no convincing. His mind was so agile, he was often way ahead of them.

  “So why confide in me about this?” he said when they had finished.

  Hall sighed. “I need your help.”

  “To turn off your ESP?” guessed Altschuler.

  “Yes,” said Hall. “But also for something even more urgent. What if my ESP is a side effect of the implant technology?”

  “This has occurred to me also,” said Altschuler. “And it is possible.”

  “If this turns out to be the case, there’s no way Theia can go forward with this technology. Which would mean canceling Tuesday’s press conference and burying the technology.”

 

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