Who would he punish? The federal government was a faceless entity to him. He’d never had any interest in any level of government, except those representatives he could corrupt for his benefit, which had usually been local politicians, and recently some at the state level. That revenge could wait. He wanted to get closer to home, but he wasn’t about to step off the plane in Louisville. He had no idea if federal authorities knew where he’d been, but he knew he wasn’t indestructible. One of the mobsters that failed to understand who he was dealing with had let him know that a sniper could take him out no matter how protected he thought he was. The now deceased thug didn’t know about his ability, and its range limitation, but a small bit of research told him a sniper could kill him from well beyond his ability to control that person, assuming he even knew he was there.
His earlier speculation about being able to control a flight crew returned. He would get closer to Lousiville but make the pilot and co-pilot land them in Cincinnati, where he would then trigger an emergency evacuation, and after he made his exit, use a group control broadcast to terrify everyone into running in all directions. He would commandeer the first emergency or police vehicle to arrive and drive away from the aircraft. Then he’d get less obvious transportation, and eventually make his way closer to home. Once in familiar territory, he’d acquire some money, a car the law couldn’t trace to him, clothes, and some information. He could make people tell him what he wanted to know, and leave some bodies behind to show his displeasure. He’d find a way somehow to devise a greater revenge.
****
On the morning of the second day, after they had confirmed Stiles had been aboard the diverted flight, there were still no new reports they could connect to Stiles. He’d taken a fire department supervisor’s SUV, but left it near I-71, suggesting he’d commandeered a passerby to drive him to Louisville or Jeffersonville, and then ordered the driver to forget the incident. The need for BII agents in Washington, particularly Immunes, forced Brogan’s hand, and he reduced the number of agents in Louisville.
Congress was in session, and the strain of overtime on the BII agents in DC demanded that he send Orville and Ally back, to provide some needed time off for the Immunes there. A Compeller could get information from ordinary citizens, but only an Immune could sense if an unfriendly Compeller were attempting to influence critical decisions and votes. The agents needed to stay physically close to those they monitored.
Brogan and Grayson would be in Louisville to sense Stiles if they had a location to sample for his control thoughts. The Superintendent wanted to offer another potential BII recruit a job very badly, but he needed to think of a way to approach Grayson in a way that wouldn’t make him angry before he offered the job. After obtaining DNA results for Dan so quickly, he was out of excuses for the delay abut his family’s results, and Dan wasn’t ready to accept an assignment in DC, not while Stiles was in the wind. Grayson’s often repeated need to protect his family might be the opening needed, but Brogan would have to prove what he knew to convince him.
He pulled Grayson aside. “Dan, the BII’s primary role isn’t known outside a handful of people at the top of the government, and at the top of the line of succession, since they are who we protect, and they need to know why. When exposed to possible external influence, we’re limited by our low numbers to stay near the President and Vice President, Speaker of the House, and President pro tempore of the Senate, and the justices of the Supreme Court.” He smiled as he considered the likely additions to the list that knew what the BII did.
“It’s probable that members of the Secret Service suspect our ability, because of our close working relationship, and perhaps one or two heads of the other Intelligence organizations. I’m not sure about any of them, because they aren’t talking, and I’ve refused to use a Compeller to find out. They’re good people and patriots. But I also know there are unfortunate weak links in the chain of confidentiality.”
“The politicians?”
Brogan laughed. “They can’t keep political secrets, and the President flaps his mouth without thinking about intelligence secrets, but they each value their free will and their minds. They won’t risk weakening their only defense against another nation controlling their minds.”
“Who then?”
“Our families…, well not mine. My only son died fighting in Afganistan, and my wife’s fragile heart didn’t long survive his loss. But that was long before the threat of psych ability was known. Some of my agents have revealed things to their wives and children without intending to do so, or they did it before we discovered their ability. Just like you did with your own family.”
“Oh. Right. Is that a problem? I won’t permit anyone to Compel them to forget.”
“Not a problem, but I’d like to meet them, where they went for their security, and impress on them how vital it is not to let their knowledge place you or our government at risk by talking about your ability, or about the function of the BII. Our agents are targets for our nation’s enemies if they know who we are. You and I are immune to mental control, not bullets or bombs.”
“Sure. Let me call Barb, so she’ll expect us. It’s a forty-five-minute drive on I-65. Barbara and Stacy were warned not to tell her parents about the situation, so we need to arrange to meet them alone.”
Grayson didn’t question when Brogan asked Mike Gorka to come along, assuming he’d be their driver. However, he subsequently decided Dan should drive because he knew the Elizabethtown area, and was an Immune. They were meeting Barb and Stacy in a suitably public setting for lunch, with the anonymity of disinterested strangers around them in a food court.
They met at the arranged time, and Barb had arrived early to secure an isolated set of tables on the outer edge of the public dining area. That displayed her good sense to provide separation from other patrons so they could talk in relative privacy.
On arrival, Brogan and Gorka shared glances that showed they both appreciated Grayson’s taste in women. Barb was a knockout, and knowing she was a former Middle School teacher who was now a part-time realtor, had rather misled them on what to expect. She was as athletic appearing as Grayson himself was, and his daughter Stacy took after her mother and had the figure of a gymnast. The two attractive blondes stood to wave at them when Dan entered the food court with the other two men.
Grayson handled the introductions, and both his wife and daughter commented favorably on the new tailored suit Dan wore and his clean-shaven appearance. After retirement from the police department, he’d cultivated a perpetual two-day beard look to hold onto a masculine image that he seemed to think retained his natural good looks in a rugged and youthful fashion.
This obvious middle-aged affectation had led to gentle teasing from his daughter, but Barb wisely told him in private it made him look sexy. The look had stayed in place after that endorsement. Now he looked like an FBI agent to them. Distinguished was Stacy’s description, and that wasn’t particularly the youthful look a forty-seven-year-old man with touches of gray at his temples sought.
Grayson knew he’d get used to it; once he spent time around his well-dressed fellow BII agents, few of which had his muscular frame. The BII agents came from a wide assortment of backgrounds, and their everyman appearance lent them anonymity in crowds because they didn’t look like armed security.
Truth be told, the Secret Service agents they mixed with worried if the new agents ever needed to use their weapons in crowds. The BII agents went through firearms training with a variety of weapons, but they didn’t have the proficiency or physical qualifications that the Secret Service agents assigned to physical protection duties had trained for years to achieve. That was what had led to speculation within their ranks concerning why the BII was there, and the unconfirmed suspicions that their true weapons were intangible, and didn’t involve guns and unarmed combat.
Barb proved to be as direct as her husband. “Superintendent, will we be required to move to Washingon if Dan is going to be there often? If
so, when? Stacy has about eight months until her High School graduation, and then we expect her to have a choice of several Universities that are offering scholarships. I can join Dan then, and Stacy can travel to wherever home is after that, for her school breaks.” She’d obviously been thinking and worrying about the family’s future.
“Mrs. Grayson, please feel free to call me Richard, or just Brogan, my last name if you want. I spent enough time in the Army that answering to my last name seems normal to me from friends and associates. I’d like you to feel like I’m a friend of your family. The BII, by its nature, is not a massive federal employer because people like Dan and Mike are rare.
“We can’t simply hire and train as many agents as we need. In one respect, I’m simply the agent in charge of the BII since I have the same ability as your husband, and my prior service in the Army and then the CIA made me the early choice to head this new Intelligence Bureau.”
Barb nodded. “OK, I’ll call you Richard or Brogan, as seems appropriate at the time. I’m Barb most of the time, and I can assure you that Stacy prefers that same informality. Right dear?” She turned to her daughter, inviting her to speak for herself. And Stacy promptly demonstrated that she’d learned directness from her parents, and spoke her mind.
“Mister Brogan, call me Stacy, but I have to tell you, and my parents, that I don’t much want to live in Washington DC. Although, I knew when I left home for University life that my interests and lifestyle would have to change. I know I’m just a pretty blonde cheerleader to the people who don't know me, and a modestly talented gymnast that had offers of an athletic scholarship. However, I’m not an airhead or a female jock, and I’m going to take one of the smaller academic scholarships, which won’t cover all my expenses. Despite that, I don’t want my parents to bear all of the burdens of my decisions.
“I did some research yesterday on other federal agencies, and I know some of them offer financial assistance to students of their employees. What can you offer me? I understand that my Dad is an even rarer find than most of your rare agents. Is that worth something to the BII?” She smiled prettily, the intelligence behind those blue eyes piercing through that outer shell.
Brogan revealed he’d used his resources to learn more about the family circumstances of his newest agent, and besides, he had an ulterior motive. “Would you consider a full scholarship from the BII to any University of your choice, all expenses paid including any advanced degree you pursue to be acceptable? Does that meet your minimal requirements, Stacy?” Her parents shared her shocked expression. Stacy recovered first.
“What’s the catch?”
Nodding his approval, Brogan made his pitch. “I want a matching number of years of well-paid federal service from you, and for you to accept paid Summer internships with the BII for your future federal service before your final graduation.”
Grayson broke the spell this time. “Do you offer this to the children of every agent?”
Brogan shook his head no, and then modified that negative. “We offer every one of our families financial assistance for education, but not a full ride like this offer. Stacy is a special case.”
“In what way?”
Brogan looked at Mike and nodded for him to initiate their previously coordinated demonstration.
Stacy, what it is you think your father does for the BII?
Grayson bristled instantly, glaring first at Mike, and having caught Brogan’s nod to Mike, his glare shifted to his new boss. “Goddamn it! I told you no.”
Brogan wasn’t looking at Dan but directed his words at him. “It was a question, Dan, not a compulsion. Don’t you want Stacy to know the answer?”
“Holy Shit!” Stacy leaped to her feet.
The shouted words startled Dan and Barb equally. Their daughter never swore, at least not where they could hear. She looked directly at Mike Gorka. “Is that what my Dad can do? Are you like him?”
Mike grinned, and said softly, “Nope. I’m not an Immune like your Dad. I’m a Compeller.”
Brogan looked satisfied, and Grayson’s mouth was open as he looked at his daughter in amazement before muttering, “I’ll be damned.”
Barb simply looked confused, and asked, “What in Hell are all of you talking about?”
Brogan raised a placating hand towards Barb, but this time he looked and spoke softly to Stacy. “What you sensed is like your Dad’s talent, what you received came from Mike, because sending is his talent. Please sit down, and we can talk about this before you draw any more attention to us.”
In fact, some people continued to look their way. Brogan said, “I think a mild additional display by Mike would help clarify what he can do.
“Mike, gently divert all the stranger’s attention away from us, if you please.”
“I’ll give it a try. I’ll use a group broadcast.”
Please pay no attention to the five people at the outside isolated tables; they wish privacy.
The few looks attracted by Stacy’s outburst, and those from males, of two age groups, who appreciated the attractive girl and her mother, now lost interest and looked elsewhere.
Stacy reported excitedly, “I heard that very clearly, but not as strong as when you asked me about what Dad does, but it’s not hearing, is it?”
Brogan told them, “Mike could make them get up and leave, or even to pick fights with one another. That’s what a Compeller can do.”
Barb glanced at Stacy, then Dan, and matched Brogan’s soft tone of voice. “She senses controlling thoughts as you do? I thought that was rare.”
“Except in families,” Brogan explained. “It’s an inherited genetic trait, which is most often recessive and thus inactive. Stacy has inherited one or two of Dan’s rare Immune genes, and one or two rare gene versions from you.”
“From me?” Barb’s confusion increased.
“Stacy has two active copies of the Immune gene, as does her father. She also has two inactive Compeller genes, so she inherited them from both her parents.
“Dan has one inactive copy of a compeller gene variation, and you have one as well Barb. You also have an inactive copy of an Immune gene. Stacy has two copies of each variation, but like her father, only the two Immune versions are active. So far as I am aware, she may be the only person on the planet with that combination, but we’ve only checked a fraction of the US population, so there could be others.”
Stacy plopped down in her chair. “Then I can detect thoughts from someone like Mister Gorka. Since Dad promptly cussed you guys out, he must have heard the question when I did. If saying I heard the question is the right word to use.”
“I sensed it as well,” Brogan said, “but unlike you and your father, the only reason I knew that it came from Mike was that I arranged in advance with him to send what you sensed. We use the word sense, not heard because it doesn’t involve our ears.
“I don’t have the directionality and personal identification ability that you and your father have, apparently because I only have a single active Immune gene. I know you have directionality, and two active genes for Immunity, because you instantly looked at Mike.
“I also knew because we had you and your mother’s DNA tested for the ability. For all I could personally tell, the thoughts I sensed could have come from any direction, from any person, if I didn’t know the sender so well. Your Immune ability is half the reason why the BII will pay for your education.”
Grayson nodded in understanding. “The other half of the reason is that she’s a potential Controller like Stiles, and all you and I can ever be is a Compeller, like Mike, with single versions of that gene. Assuming your genetic scientists learn how to activate them.”
Stacy looked horrified. “I might turn into a monster like Stiles?”
That brought a matching expression from her father, for the opposite reason. “No, no, honey. I wasn’t implying that at all. Stiles is a psychopath, and his Control ability makes his mental deviation worse. The Complel or the Control ability doesn’t m
ake people do evil things, or turn them into a psychopath.”
Barb sat there, still in the dark about what Mike had done mentally, and feeling left out of the loop.
Brogan noticed her expression and understood. “Mike sent a thought question to Stacy to ask if she knew what her father could do. It was my way of testing her, and demonstrating to Dan and you, that Stacy was also gifted. A person like Stiles can’t control her, and as she and Dan did just now, she’ll know if anyone tries to touch her mind, and can sense exactly who and where they are. I can’t sense where they are or how far away, only that someone like Mike here broadcasted their thoughts.”
Barb looked at Mike, “All of you can sense thoughts sent to you?”
Mike corrected her. “Not me. I’m not an Immune like they are, so I don’t sense if outside thoughts I might receive came from other Compellers like myself. They always seem to be my thoughts, but I know to be alert for thoughts that seem out of place to me. I also don’t have both gene variations, as you do.”
“I carry both genes?”
Brogan told her the full results of her DNA test. “You have a recessive copy of the Immune gene and one of the Compeller gene. That’s how your daughter was able to inherit two copies of each type from the combination of Dan’s and your DNA. We don’t yet understand why or how any of the recessive genes become activated. She and her Dad have had dual active Immune genes for some time, perhaps since puberty, when many people become active. They were unaware of their ability.”
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