Sundial

by C. F. Fruzzetti

  Chapter Fourteen: Sunrise

  I gave Reid a sideways glance. I didn’t appreciate hearing him talk about me right in front of me, even less so in a language I didn’t understand.

  Mr. Parks slowly raised and lowered his hand toward me, telling me to calm down. I took a deep breath, hoping more oxygen would do the trick.

  I figured out that Reid was able to detect that I was not lying to him, but not if I allowed myself to believe my own lies. He probably thought I was emotionally disabled after what Dr. West told him. Great. He thinks I am delusional, I stewed. I forgot about the suggestion that I calm down as my temper started to rekindle.

  To my shock, Mr. Parks placed Reid’s hand on my arm. I did not have enough time to move my thoughts away from my anger that Reid did not trust me.

  Mr. Parks said, “Knowing others is intelligence; knowing yourself is true wisdom. Mastering others is strength; mastering yourself is true power. You are both already very powerful on your own. But the panther and the crane together fit like a puzzle and make a tough opponent. If panther remembers to stop swiping at crane in annoyance.”

  I reluctantly smiled. I could not help myself. Mr. Parks’ subtle humor and his serenity put me at ease. I did not need to ask him if he thought Dr. West was dead. My claircognizance told me that Mr. Parks knew Dr. West was alive. I no longer felt outnumbered or insane.

  “I’m sorry, Whitney,” Reid said. “I spoke in Chinese because I was worried about you. I thought you didn’t believe Helga because you couldn’t believe it. It is not because I don’t have faith in you.”

  His hand was still on my arm. I was glad he apologized but not that he had invaded my privacy. I shifted my thoughts to something that would be more difficult for him to handle. I conjured up the waterfall again and he jerked his hand away from my arm as if it was a hot stove. I had to bite my lip so I didn’t smile. It dawned on me too late that was the equivalent of a panther swipe.

  “Oh good. All is forgiven! Then we get down to business. I have something I need to give to Reid. It is Dr. West’s Navy Cross medal. Reid, he wanted you to have this. He thought you would know what to do with it.” Mr. Parks bustled across the room in his tracksuit.

  I understood immediately the medal was information for Reid. His abilities as an empath would allow him to pull the emotion or vision Dr. West wanted him to know by touching it. I noted how the medal and the computer disk were prepared ahead of time. It was more reassurance that this was a ruse.

  “Right. OK,” Reid said, taking the velvet box. He flipped it open and saw the starched blue and white striped ribbon attached to a metal cross. The center of the cross was engraved with a large ship. Mr. Parks slammed it shut. His permanently broken pinky finger jutted out in an impossible direction.

  “Perhaps you look at it later? Now, we must talk about the funeral. There will be many powerful and dangerous people there. There is no worse disaster than misunderstanding your enemy. This is not a time for mistake. The error of one moment can become the sorrow of your whole life.” The words hung in the air with a personal poignancy that unsettled me. I sensed Mr. Parks spoke from experience.

  Dr. West’s suicide was unfolding as the opening act of a power play. I felt like an understudy who had only halfheartedly memorized my lines and now had to perform.

  My throat was dry. I looked at Reid and thought he must be wondering what he had gotten himself into since nobody had bothered to tell him I was involved with Clarion. Unfortunately, I could not grab his arm and confirm that to be true. He had an unfair advantage.

  Before we went forward as a team, I had to find out if I could learn from Mr. Parks how to close off my mind. Otherwise, I would exhaust myself trying to replace what I was really thinking with benign or risqué images.

  “First, let me bring in some tea,” I offered. Mr. Parks always kept a black clay kettle with a bamboo handle on his stove. He brightened at the idea, and it would allow me the chance to go into the kitchen and leave my jacket. I needed an excuse to come back in from the car when we were leaving and ask Mr. Parks to help me.

  Reid and Mr. Parks were sitting at a low tea table at the end of the room when I walked back in with the three cups and the kettle. The table overlooked the woods. The only sound was the pouring of tea until Mr. Parks said, “Contentment in life comes at no cost. We must remember to savor the moments of being. That is why we sip tea. A full life is rich in small pleasures.”

  I felt myself relax as I drank my tea. When we were finished, Mr. Parks shared with us all the preplanned details of Dr. West’s funeral. It was going to be held at the Washington National Cathedral. That was further confirmation to me this was all orchestrated to be a big show. Dr. West would never choose that for himself. This was not a funeral but a social event, and a big social event at that.

  “All of Clarion will be there,” I verified as I looked at Mr. Parks. “And more?”

  “Yes. Many, many people. This is a good thing for it to be so public. It is harder for darkness to hide when everyone is looking. Nevertheless, you will stay with each other at all times. Understand? Your animal styles are similar to your defensive personality traits. Whitney senses when to strike and is a master of timing and Reid has the heart of a phoenix and is a master of danger. Together—you create the premium opportunity for success. The funeral is in four days.”

  Mr. Parks said this casually, but I heard the warning in his message. A phoenix in kung fu was known for sacrificing himself to meet the objective even at his own peril. Mr. Parks was telling me to be careful and not to take unnecessary risks. Reid would put himself in harm’s way to guarantee my safety. He was my guardian.

  It was time to leave. Reid and I got back into the car. I waited until he turned it on to launch my rescue mission. “Oh! My jacket. I’ll be right back,” I said, opening the car door and hurrying back to the house. I went around back and found Mr. Parks meditating again. He was sitting quietly on the floor with my jacket by his side. He had known my plan all along. I had to figure out how they were doing this. Did I have a teleprompter on my forehead?

  He kept his eyes closed but spoke. “I will help you. Come after dinner tomorrow. It is only fair. Reid knows how to control his chi already. I was afraid if I showed you too early, you would have never given him any hope.” Mr. Parks chuckled softly. “Remember, Whitney, being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. Love is an advantage, not a weakness. I will see you tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Parks,” I said respectfully. I grabbed my jacket and left. That explained how I could sense something about Karen and Reid and not know the information. Reid was blocking it from me on purpose. That was one more piece of disturbing clarity I had that I didn’t have a few hours ago.

  Reid had a smile on his face inside the car. He was up to something. I opened the car door and climbed in. He was turning up the song “Every Little Thing She Does is Magic” by The Police. He looked straight ahead but I saw his dimple of delight in his profile as he drove us back to Gary’s house. I had to give it to him. He had good timing as well.

  The party was crowded and the music was loud. People were swimming in the pool with their clothes on and I could hear quarters bouncing off the counter tops in the kitchen. As predicted, Blair and Patrick were still talking near the door. I threaded my way through the groups of people and tried not to let their drinks spill on me as I walked toward them.

  “Hi Reid!” yelled a voice behind me that was becoming all too familiar. I didn’t look back but could hear Karen’s relentless stream of questions asking him where he had been. I didn’t have time to wait for him to catch up to me or to indulge the annoyance of my fist tightening up.

  I had my eyes focused on Patrick and didn’t see Sean coming out of the pool. “Whitney! Where have you been? I’ve missed you!” he joked as he came up to give me a dripping wet hug. The computer disk was in my anorak jacket pocket but I was afraid for it to get wet.

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sp; “Get lost, Sean,” Reid said before I could say or do a thing. Reid pushed Sean back into the water and he went in with a splash. He must not have had a lot to say to Karen. Reid held onto my arm and we continued around the pool, and I thought about how anxious I was to open the computer disk.

  “Patrick, something’s come up that’s pretty important. Can we go back to your house to use your computer?” Reid asked. Blair’s eyes flitted back and forth between Reid and me, trying to gauge what was going on. I tilted my head to her, suggesting we all leave.

  “Sure, no problem.” Patrick set his cup on the ground and Blair murmured to me she would tell Eileen we were leaving. The four of us were in Reid’s car two minutes later. Patrick and Blair looked at Reid and me expectantly.

  “Dr. West, my doctor and friend in Charlottesville, died today,” I said. “I have a computer disk from him that we need to open. I’m sure it’s in code, but Patrick, I think you and Reid can break it. I’m sure the information on it is highly classified. Dr. West used to work for the CIA.”

  I heard Blair catch her breath from the back seat. “Whitney, I’m so sorry. You’ve been going to him practically your whole life. I know he is like a family member.”

  I could only nod. My silence seemed to communicate my loss for words instead of my conflict about not being able to tell Blair the entire truth. I hated not being able to tell her everything, but this would protect Blair and Patrick and save them from having to lie for us. An awkward quiet filled the air until we arrived at Patrick’s house.

  We walked into the house and straight to Patrick’s room. I pulled the blinds and gave him the disk. He inserted it, but his computer said it couldn’t read it.

  “Wait, eject the disk and give it to Reid,” I directed. “Let Reid put the disk in.”

  Patrick stood up and handed the disk to Reid. He looked at Reid strangely. Reid held the disk and said, “Patrick, I will have to hold down a set of controls while you type in the password. This is a two-person job.”

  “Okaaay,” Patrick said as if he had just been asked to step into The Twilight Zone. Blair watched over their shoulders while I paced the room.

  “The password is Sunrise,” Reid said. I heard the tapping of the keyboard behind me.

  “It’s coming up, but it’s scrambled,” Patrick said from his desk. “Wow. I have never seen anything coded like this before. This might take a little while.”

  I sat down on Patrick’s bed and it moved in a slow roll. “A water bed? Patrick! I would have never guessed,” I teased. I turned on the heat and climbed into the middle of the bed. I picked up a Sports Illustrated, and the last thing I remember thinking was how boring it was to read it.

  My eyes took in the unfamiliar surroundings and the familiar body next to me. Reid and I were sleeping on top of Patrick’s bed, still in our clothes from the day before.

  I heard the clicking of the computer and saw Patrick working at his desk. Blair was sleeping on the couch under his “Blown Away” poster. I tried to move away from Reid without waking him up. It didn’t work. He tightened his grip around me and kept me close.

  Reid stretched his other arm and looked over at Patrick. “How’s it going, Patrick?” he asked. “Sorry we all crashed on you. Safe to say we wouldn’t have been much help though.”

  I looked up at Reid. His eyes swirled with interest as he studied me. I quickly moved away so I could break his connection to me. I realized I had not been guarding my thoughts. I had no idea what my dreamy mind was entertaining.

  I got up and walked over to Patrick’s desk. I smelled the pizza flavoring of the Combos that were left in the open bag near the keyboard. The cryptic code was no longer on the screen. He was realigning the columns. “What is it?” I asked, looking over his shoulder.

  “It’s a database relating to a project called Sunrise. It lists names, code names, and psychometric descriptors of people in various categories. Um, Whitney. You know you are on it, right?” Patrick asked.

  “Unfortunately, I’m not surprised,” I answered. “Where am I in the list? Is it alphabetical?”

  “No. You are at the very top. Your code name is ‘Sundial’ and you are listed as the Leader of Sunrise.”

  Chapter Fifteen: Not Alone

  I managed to find my voice and asked Patrick if I could sit down and look at the list. I scrolled to the top of the document. It said “Whitney S. Forbes/Sundial. Sunrise Leader.” No other capabilities were listed. Was this some kind of mistake? Why was I at the top of this list and all alone? I didn’t feel Reid’s hand on my shoulder until he squeezed it and said, “You aren’t alone. I’m here.”

  The computer screen revealed an elaborate hierarchical structure. There were units and divisions and detailed personal information.

  “I don’t know anything about the Sunrise program or the people on this list. How can I lead something I know nothing about?” I questioned Reid.

  “Maybe you will never actually need this information and it is the culmination of his work data. He might have thought it was safer with you than in his office. Dr. West has always taken good care of you, Whitney. I think you have to rest assured he wouldn’t set you up to fail. Maybe the message is in your code name. You know, Sundial. The saying on the sundial we found this on says “time brings truth to light” and I have heard you say that before you black out. I think you should wait and see what unfolds. Knowing about something does not mean you have to do anything about it.”

  “Hmm…” I answered as I mulled over the cautious approach Reid advocated. That was not how Dr. West worked. He knew what could happen if Clarion continued on its course unchecked. I had a much better idea of what the list entailed and why it was structured in reserved and active duty. This was Dr. West’s defensive answer to Clarion: his own psychic army. He was betting on war.

  I woke up Blair. I needed her to study the names and phone numbers of the first tier of emergency support. I did not have her recall ability and I could not take this kind of information with me. Patrick walked in his room with a box of donuts. I couldn’t eat anything. I was too jittery.

  “Did you have a chance to look at the list all the way through? There are some people on there that can do stuff that I thought only happened in DC Comics. That is so cool you are on there, Whitney. How did you get picked? Your doctor friend just liked you?” Patrick asked, woofing down a chocolate-covered donut.

  It took me a second to realize that Patrick knew nothing about what I could do. Dr. West had not listed my psychic capabilities. The word leader was all that was next to my name. That was a nice measure of foresight and protection by Dr. West. He knew I would have to have help to break the code but he did not want to compromise me in the process.

  “I don’t know. Dr. West was mentally unstable. I’m not sure what any of this means. It could be he was paranoid near the end and I didn’t know it,” I answered with a shrug. Blair’s face showed me she didn’t buy that and she went back to reading the list. A few minutes later, Blair said she thought she had the first tier memorized.

  “Really?” Reid questioned. He went over to the computer screen. “Jen Locke?”

  “Telepathic and geomagnetic. The patient number is 43409,” Blair replied easily.

  “Charles Conn.” Reid tried again.

  “Pyrokinetic with a patient number of 78143,” Blair answered.

  “Reid, she knows the license plate numbers of everyone at our school. Blair is a master of espionage. I’m sure she knows the first tier.” I sighed. Blair had always had an uncanny knack for this.

  “OK, one more. Matthew Fitzpatrick,” Reid shot off.

  “Postcognitive and his patient number is 67340.”

  “All right. I’m impressed,” Reid nodded, and ate another donut.

  “Do you even know what those words mean?” Patrick asked. “Isn’t pyrokinetic something Stephen King made up for Firestarter?”

  “Hmm. I’m not sure. I didn’t see that movie. I hate horror films,” I said. I saw enou
gh horror through my precognitive dreams to entertain the likes of Freddy Krueger. “It would seem that I have a lot to learn. Which reminds me, I have an appointment with Mr. Parks. I have to get going.”

  “It’s only seven-fifty a.m., Whitney,” Blair said with an arched eyebrow.

  “Oh good, I need to be there at eight a.m. I don’t want to be late. You know how Mr. Parks is about punctuality.” I was making that up but I had to see him. I was already pulling my jacket back on and redoing my ponytail. Reid watched me quietly. He grabbed his keys off Patrick’s table.

  “Blair, call my house and tell my dad I am in the shower and we are going to hockey practice. I’ll meet you at your house in a little while. Patrick, will you keep this disk here? Hide it in your room where no one would find it and don’t mention it to anyone. I’m not sure what it all means, but no need to take any risks.”

  Patrick nodded. “Sure, no problem. I think it also re-encrypts itself every time it is ejected.”

  “Thanks for all your help, Patrick. I really appreciate it. I hope you get some sleep,” I said with a smile.

  Reid and I walked out to his car. I opened my door and saw the contents of the glove compartment had been dumped on the floor. The velvet box that held Dr. West’s medal was gone.

  Reid sighed. “Good thing I brought this in with me,” he said, holding up the box. “Like you, I also don’t see the need to take any risks. It seems someone is keeping a good eye on us.” I was already certain of that.

  It was interesting whoever went through Reid’s car wanted him to know it. A real professional could have gone through everything and not left a trace. The carelessness of this person made me uneasy. This person was not smart and a poor planner. It would not be hard to back someone like that into a corner, but people like that often had only one out and it usually involved pulling a trigger. A coat hanger was left lying in the street—more evidence of carelessness.