MindWar (Nick Hall Book 3)

by Douglas E. Richards

  Victor didn’t bother to respond.

  “I was afraid of that,” said Browning. “No matter, you’ll help me anyway. You don’t have a choice. I read in your mind that only you, Eduardo Alvarez, and your son know anything about the data stick you stole from Sargent. So once I make sure they’re both dead—which I will do very soon—I’ll be the only one other than President Cochran with access.”

  “You got lucky with me,” growled Victor icily. “You won’t get lucky with them.”

  Browning simply smiled. “You have no idea just how thoroughly I read your mind on the hike here. I know where they are, and where they’re going to be. I know where they’ll head in a moment of crisis. I can find them now as easily as you’d be able to do. Even if you could use your implants to warn them I’m coming, it wouldn’t matter.”

  “Agree to keep them out of this and I’ll work for you.”

  “Interesting. Everyone has their Achilles’ heel. Nick Hall’s weakness is Megan Emerson. And you’re vulnerable when it comes to Lucas and Eduardo. Everyone has someone who can be used as leverage against them. Everyone, that is, except me.”

  “I wouldn’t be proud of that if I were you.”

  “Well you’re not me!” spat Browning. “And I am proud of it.”

  He paused, and then continued in a more measured tone. “But getting back to your offer, I’m afraid I have to decline. You’d be doing this under duress, so even without ESP I’d know you’d turn on me the first chance you got. And I don’t need your cooperation. I can mine you for information any time I want, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “I’m disappointed that you don’t see it yet. There’s a reason for everything, including why our paths crossed in the first place. It was to help me achieve my goals. I’m planning to build up off-the-grid infrastructure just like you’ve done. I’ve even purchased one of your old holdings in Colorado. And it has occurred to me, why should I reinvent the wheel when you’ve already done such a masterful job?”

  He waited for his prisoner to fully grasp the implications, which he did in seconds. “You think you can just waltz in and take over my organization and holdings?” said Victor.

  “That’s exactly what I think,” said Browning. “That’s exactly what I’ll do. A perfect short-cut. And I can succeed without your help or consent. All I need to do is to keep you handy. I can keep you in a gilded cage or a dungeon, that all depends on you. But regardless, your mind becomes a giant intelligent database I can access at my leisure.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “A database that contains details of all of your holdings. Bank account information and where all the money and assets are hidden. And I also get to tap into your experience. No one can know your own people and operation better than you do. As long as I keep you alive I can raid your mind whenever I want—no cooperation necessary. I’ll quickly be accepted as the man holding the reins of your organization, with bank accounts and knowledge to match.”

  Victor was utterly horrified, almost as much as he had been when he thought his own son was about to kill him. But this wouldn’t turn out to be an act. This would be real. And he would be helpless to stop it.

  And then it occurred to him that he would have one way out, after all.

  Browning shook his head in disappointment. “Really, Victor?” he said. “You don’t think I’ll make sure you stay healthy and alive, even if I have to strap you down and feed you through an IV? I’m not about to let you take your own life. You know what the Bible says,” he continued. “Suicide makes Jesus cry.”

  He grinned. “That might not be an actual passage,” he added in amusement, “but the Christian religion does frown on suicide. Despite the fact that Jesus let himself be killed when he didn’t have to, which amounts to the same thing.”

  “What’s your thing with Jesus?” said Victor.

  “He’s a pretender, and it annoys me. You see, I’m the real deal.”

  Browning went on to explain how he had been chosen by the universe, by fate, to right the ship of humanity, to save it from itself and transform the species, and his grand vision of letting mind reading unite the world.

  “I’m sure you read my mind while you were sharing your demented ravings,” said Victor when he finished. “So you know that I’m convinced that you’re a total lunatic—clinically insane.”

  Browning smiled. “I’d almost be worried if you didn’t think that,” he said. “It’s like asking an engineer to believe in a perpetual motion machine. Even those who believe Jesus was the savior acknowledge that this wasn’t widely appreciated at the time.”

  “You’re a fool,” said Victor in disgust. “And your grand destiny is monumentally misguided. You’ve got it exactly backwards, like only a nut-job of your caliber could do. You’re giving a superpower to wolves and sheep, and you think the sheep will inherit the earth once the carnage is through? The opposite, clown boy. You won’t purify the species. You’ll just ensure that only the most ruthless survive.”

  “No!” shouted Browning. “The good souls of the world will see the love in one another. They’ll band together. The evil souls of the world will pillage from them, true, along with everyone else. But once they’ve taken what they will, the wolves will have no more use for the sheep. They’ll have no reason to kill them, and every reason to wage war against their fellow wolves.”

  “They’ll see the love in one another? Did you really just say that? Could you possibly be more of a fool, or more delusional?”

  “If I’m such a fool,” said Browning coolly, showing unexpected composure, “then what does that make you? Seems I’ve done pretty well for myself. And I’ll be the fool who inherits everything you’ve built over an entire lifetime. I don’t expect you to appreciate just what I am. I’m too far beyond you. But even you have to admit the situation I find myself in right now smacks of a greater destiny. You think all of this would have fallen into my lap so perfectly if fate wasn’t lending a hand?”

  Victor sighed. “I thought fate was on my side once, also. When Justin Girdler came to me out of the blue with ten thousand sets of BrainWeb implants. And you know exactly how well that transaction turned out. Unlikely things do happen. What seems like divine fate can be nothing but good luck. And what looks like good luck can reveal itself to be the opposite very quickly.”

  “Hold that thought,” said Browning. “Time has been marching forward, and General Girdler’s going to want proof of life any minute. I fully intend to give it to him.”

  “You’re going to revive Hall?”

  “Of course not. But I’m betting I can get them here anyway. Pretending that I’m you.” He shrugged. “And if not, I brought a few ground-to-air missiles that will do the job nicely.”

  61

  The helo hovered at the requested distance and Justin Girdler checked his watch for the fifth time. It was now ten before five, on the nose. Victor ran his operations with great precision and Girdler expected him to be punctual.

  He continued to stare at his phone as if it might explode.

  A chime sounded. It was from the number Nick had used to contact him earlier, but this time it was only a text message.

  “It’s a long text from Victor,” he announced to his fellow passengers through their comms. “It reads as follows.” He cleared his throat. “Hello, General. Welcome to you and your three THT colleagues. We agreed to proof of life at this point before you landed at my compound, but I’ve decided to make a minor modification. I realized I didn’t need to awaken Hall to prove he’s still alive and unharmed. You’ve shown yourself to be too good of a team. With him conscious, who knows what kind of plan you could come up with to wriggle off the hook. So I’ve attached some footage with a time stamp from just a minute ago showing Hall in good condition, and the rise and fall of his chest. Alex Altschuler and Drew Russell can both verify that the footage hasn’t been doctored. I still plan to honor our agreement and trust this change doesn’t
affect things at your end. I have proven he’s alive, even if you don’t get a chance to chat with him. But this is your call. If this change worries you, by all means, turn around and go back. No need to contact me. Just know that Nick Hall and Megan Emerson will pay the price if you haven’t landed at the location and time specified.”

  Girdler handed his phone to the two grim-faced scientists, who ran the footage of the unconscious Hall and then sent it to a program in the cloud, which confirmed the time-stamp was accurate.

  “Would it be repetitive of me to say this is total bullshit!” said Mike Campbell.

  “Just when we thought this couldn’t smell any worse,” said Altschuler. “So what now?”

  The general looked out of the window and down at the forest, as though the beauty of nature might inspire him. “Any hope we had that Nick was orchestrating events as part of a master plan are gone,” he said, turning back to his fellow passengers. “No way he’ll be able to make lemonade this time. Which is what Victor wants to ensure. Once again, he’s smart to keep Nick unconscious.”

  “We hoped Nick might have a plan,” said Campbell, “but we knew it was a longshot. So we were always forced to trust Victor. Nick did, after all, and that’s still good enough for me.”

  “So we go forward, is that what you’re suggesting?” said Drew Russell. “That the odds of this being a suicide mission are still about the same as they’ve always been.”

  “That’s what I’m suggesting,” said Campbell.

  “I’m still in, too,” said Girdler. “Nick would be going forward if our lives were on the line. I’m sure of it.”

  Altschuler sighed. “I agree. So I’m still in too. At least Heather isn’t with us.”

  “Which may explain why she’s not,” noted Girdler. “Drew?”

  Russell shook his head. “Am I the only sane man here? You think peer pressure is strong enough to get me to agree to something that could easily get me killed?”

  “It is pretty strong,” said Altschuler, allowing himself the hint of a smile, despite their desperate circumstances. “How many people have done boneheaded stunts on a dare?” he added. “But think of it this way: at least we’re doing our boneheaded stunt for a noble cause.”

  “I really, really hate all of you,” said Russell, the color now completely drained from his face. “But I’m in. Who’d have ever thought that being beaten nearly to death would be an outcome I’d be praying for?” he added, looking as though he might die from the stress before the helicopter even landed.

  62

  “Let me read to you the message I just sent to General Girdler,” said Troy Browning.

  “I don’t care what you sent him,” said Victor.

  “I’ll read it anyway,” said Browning, who proceeded to recite the message.

  When he had finished he added, “Two of my men are monitoring the transponder on their helicopter. The other two have missile launchers on their shoulders, ready to fire at Girdler and friends if they make the wrong choice and begin to head back home. We’ll know for sure what they’ll decide in a minute. But what do you think? Will they keep coming? Or will they turn around?”

  As much as Victor didn’t want to give Browning any credit, his ploy had been quite good, and lying to him wasn’t possible. “I think they’ll still come, yes,” he replied.

  Just as Victor finished speaking he sensed motion behind him and saw Browning’s eyes widen as though he had seen a ghost.

  A gunshot cracked near Victor’s ear, almost deafening in its thunder. At the same instant, Troy Browning screamed and slid down the wall he was standing against, a slug having punched through his upper left thigh.

  “If your men take one step in our direction,” barked Megan Emerson, “you’re dead! Tell them! Get out your phone.”

  Browning was dazed from the pain and the impossibility of what was happening. “No phone,” he rasped out, his face contorted in agony. “I have implants.”

  Megan looked surprised for just an instant, but recovered quickly. “Then tell them!” she screamed. “Or do I have to shoot your other leg?”

  “Okay!” replied Browning. “I told them. They’ll hold their positions. Just don’t shoot.”

  Victor shook his head to clear it, almost as stunned as Browning. Based on what had just happened, Nick Hall was the luckiest man alive. If fate really was looking out for the man destined to save the species, one could argue that this man wasn’t Troy Browning, but the other mind reader in the room.

  Megan Emerson was immune from mind reading, Victor realized in fascination. It was the only way she could have surprised Browning. That was her role on the ESP team. He should have guessed. And it was the only way she could maintain a romantic relationship with Hall.

  “Two of your men were pointing missile launchers toward the sky,” continued Megan, and Victor realized she must have been able to slip past Browning’s men because they were preoccupied tracking Girdler’s helo. “Tell them to stand down! You’re just as dead if they launch a single one!”

  Browning nodded. “No missiles,” he said quickly. “They’ve got it.”

  “Who are you?” she demanded. “And how can you read minds?”

  “You don’t have time for Q and A,” said Victor rapidly. “His name is Troy Browning—ex-NSA. There’s a lot going on that you don’t know about, but your friends will be landing in a clearing outside in just a few minutes. They’ll be unarmed and helpless. Browning’s men will kill them, which will tilt the balance of power too much in their favor.”

  “Why would you help me?” she asked Victor suspiciously.

  Victor held out his bound wrists and nodded toward his bound ankles, which were also tied to a heavy chair. “Because this asshole took me prisoner,” he replied hastily, and then he rushed through the rest of what he had to say in a single breath. “And he doesn’t just plan to kill you and your team, but also my son and a man who’s like a brother to me. If we don’t stop him now, we never will. So let’s work together. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Cut me loose and let me help you and I’ll never come after any of you again. You have my word.”

  Victor finally gasped in a breath and continued. “Let me save my son—and your friends. Trust me.”

  Megan hesitated. “Keep helping me and I’ll decide if I want to free you.”

  “Fair enough,” he replied. He reached awkwardly into his front pocket, wrists bound, and extended his fingers, clumsily removing a small device. “First, put this in his pocket. Quickly! This will kill his implants so he can’t communicate further with his men.”

  Megan took it from the tech dealer and tossed it on Browning’s lap. “Touch it and I’ll shoot your hand off!” she warned him.

  “Good,” said Victor. “Second, we need Hall.” He gestured to a table against the far wall where a filled syringe had been sitting for some time now. “Stab him with that and shove the plunger all the way down. It will counteract the knockout drug I gave him in about five minutes. Hurry!” he implored her.

  Megan rushed to the table and did as he said.

  “There’s a cell phone in my top drawer,” said Victor the moment she had finished. This was the phone he had given Hall to call Girdler, one immune from the suppressor signals that had blocked Hall’s implants. “Bring it over here, put it on speaker, and hit redial.”

  She did what he asked without hesitation.

  Girdler answered on the first ring.

  “General, this is Victor,” the tech merchant shouted into the phone as Megan held it below him. “You can’t land where we agreed! Repeat, do not land at the agreed upon coordinates! The recent text was from someone else, not me. A mind reader other than Hall. Four commandos are waiting for you at the landing site with orders to kill! Land as close to my compound as you can, but make sure you aren’t captured. We can’t have you being used as hostages.”

  “What kind of mind game are you playing at, Victor?” demanded Girdler.

  “No game. Megan is right her
e with me. We’ve forged a truce—one that encompasses THT. A group of hostiles have raided my compound and put down eight of my men. I’ve agreed never to touch any of you in exchange for us working together to kill these bastards.”

  “Trust him, General!” shouted Megan. “We really do have a mind reader here. I’m sure. I have him at gunpoint, but the four mercs Victor mentioned are real, and they also have two shoulder-fired missile launchers ready to fire in case you turn around.”

  “Understood,” said Girdler, the anxiety in his voice intensifying. “Looking for a landing site now. Okay, Victor, we’re a team—for the time being.”

  “Good. I’ll leave you to concentrate on getting your asses on the ground. But Hall will be conscious and reading minds shortly. He can contact you with further instructions. ”

  “Roger that,” said Girdler as the connection ended and Megan slipped the phone into her pocket.

  She found a pair of sharp scissors and handed them to Victor. “You’ve earned your freedom,” she said as he began sawing through the hardened plastic, a task that would likely take several minutes to complete.

  “What now?” she asked him as he worked to free himself.

  “You’ve got to kill Browning!” he said emphatically. “Not a second to waste. Take aim and put him down!”

  “He’s our only leverage,” said Megan. “If we kill him, there’s nothing to prevent his men from killing us. Besides, I’m not in the habit of killing people in cold blood.”

  “We’re better off taking our chances. This guy is too dangerous to let live for an instant longer. Kill him while we still have the chance,” he pleaded.

  Browning rose from the floor, steadying himself on one leg while his other leg continued to bleed. Megan backed away, the gun still on him.

  “Don’t listen to him,” said Browning. “Kill me and you’ll never leave here alive.”

  Before she could reply, Browning’s eyes went wild and he charged, despite his bad leg, screaming like a madman, his actions leaving no doubt he wouldn’t stop until she was dead. Just as he was preparing to dive at her in desperation she pulled the trigger twice. His screams intensified as the slugs hit, but then instantly subsided as he crashed to the floor, blood pouring from two holes in his chest.