by Gareth Lewis
*
Jack? Lydia's thoughts returned, a controlled tone with an undercurrent he didn't recognize. Or maybe her use of his first name was throwing him off. Either her concerns had the better of her or she was sending a message.
He kept his thoughts tightly reined as he responded. Are you okay?
Peachy. She hated peaches. And the gap till the next thought felt a touch long. They tried to recruit me.
The possibility she'd agreed and was playing him barely flickered through his mind. He knew they couldn't offer what she wanted, as close to a regular life as she could now find, and he trusted her.
Her frame of mind told him the conversation may not be private, which he suppressed from his surface thoughts, focussing on the road. If they could force their way into her mind, they could penetrate his defences. If so, why hadn't they taken him when they kidnapped Lydia? Probably they wanted to use their link, which could be easier if he didn't suspect. He'd let her direct the conversation until he could determine they were after what he suspected. Have you managed to determine your location?
No, thought Lydia. They kept my mind isolated, and weren't willing to reveal anything unless I agreed to join them.
You didn't try to play along?
We're telepaths. Her tone regained some of its customary irritation. Do you really think they'd just take my word for it?
How many are there? How deeply can they go into your mind, and how likely am I to be able to keep them out?
She hesitated, probably seeking permission on how much to reveal, also letting him know they knew she knew they were observing. He thought about how her presence felt in his mind, but couldn't detect any difference. He'd experienced other telepaths during training, and it was possible to distinguish minds. That was part of the reason partnering with a telepath took matchmaking, ensuring the minds fit comfortably together. Would it feel different if they piggy-backed her mind into his?
I've only seen the four, three telepaths and a psykin. They've got a few other telepaths on site. I could feel four focussing on my mind while one spoke to me. They can get at my surface thoughts, but I've resisted them going deeper. Your training might let you do the same, but...
Memories of his training let him finish the hesitant thought. It may damage my mind in the process. Non-telepathic minds were less able to recover from damage caused by intrusive telepathic contact. While his training allowed him to better resist them, he'd heard stories of SPI officers left drooling vegetables by their experiences.
Sorry, she thought in a virtual whisper.
Occupational hazard. He hoped his nonchalance would be taken as false bravado by anyone eavesdropping, and added a hint of agitation to sell the thought. In truth, part of him felt mild surprise that Lydia's safety was more urgent to him. He hastily suppressed the feelings before they coalesced into thought. Did you recognize any of them?
No. It was four strangers trying to groom me for their cult.
Grooming? Was she implying Markham was one of them? Jack noted a hint of disappointment, which felt alien in not being aimed at him. Okay, I'm sorry, but you have to stay out of my mind for a while.
You're near the back-up arsenal? She felt anxious.
Yes, and don't worry. Everything's gonna be peachy. He did like peaches.
Her anxieties seemed to subside a touch, and her mind calmed as she responded. Okay, call when you can. And be careful.
Love you. He froze at the thought, Lydia doing likewise before she quickly cut the link. Why had he thought that? Quite apart from the question of how it came into his mind, it gave the enemy leverage. He shook it away. He couldn't retract it, and had other matters demanding attention.
He approached the skeletal structure which would ultimately replace the police headquarters, with integrated SPI facilities. He glanced over the site, currently deserted over contractual disputes. Fortunately, his card allowed access. He drove into the eerily quiet car park surrounding the hollow edifice. While the bottom few floors seemed relatively complete, apart from the lack of glass encasing them, the higher floors had only the bones of the structure, a couple not even having floors.
The armoury would be situated in the basement, already partly completed, so it was a reasonable location for the secret cache.
Not that he had any intention of going near the real cache, or even thinking its location. He had no doubt Markham could've trained his group to triangulate a position from mental contact, and since Lydia hadn't bothered steering the conversation, his guess as to their goal in leaving him alive seemed reasonable.
He probably wouldn't have much time before their people arrived, so he'd have to set up quickly. Grabbing his pack, he entered the main building, scanning for the best ambush point. The lobby was too open. The few entrances would be awkwardly placed for ambushing anyone, and too easy for them to circle around. He made his way to the stairwell, and descended.
They'd be able to locate him telepathically. He'd no easy way of blocking that without Lydia's aid, and trying would arouse suspicions. Whoever they sent would likely have a kinetic, to work around his baffler. They'd be the main problem. They'd be unlikely to send many in after him, since that'd lose them the element of stealth.
Jack pulled a flashlight from his pack as he reached the basement, the light from the empty doorframe above having diminished with his descent. He doubted whoever they sent would be equipped with night vision goggles, so his should provide a slight advantage.
He exited the base of the stairwell into the single corridor leading off from it, which stretched fifty metres before opening into a larger room. The corridor wall panels lay open in places, exposing the wiring behind. A few metres wide, it wouldn't afford much cover in a fire fight, which he hoped to avoid, and should keep them grouped together.
Emerging into the larger room, he tried the light switch, blinking in surprise as it worked. He hadn't thought they'd done this much. It should make things easier, lulling them further in than if he just had the flashlight. Without a decent light of their own they might consider it safer to ambush him on the way out, and try to force the way into the vault out of him.
Entrances on either side of the main room led to where the secure areas would be located. A bit far from the light switch, but he didn't intend them getting near enough to see, anyway.
Dropping his pack, he removed the padded suit, donning it with a calm haste. Had something tickled his mind? He didn't react to it, keeping his surface thoughts clear, and his deeper thoughts on what could be taken by a casual scan for concentration on a simple task. His suit on, he left the helmet, taking the night vision goggles instead, leaving them pointing up for the moment. He should have left the light off until checking the faint light filtering down the stairwell didn't interfere with the goggles. Too late now.
Removing the tranq gun and screamer from the pack, he caught a faint echo from the stairs, followed by silence as they paused for his reaction. His thoughts remained stable, and the faint rustle of hushed movement resumed.
He waited till they'd reached the bottom, and were halfway along the corridor. Dousing the light, he dropped the goggles, and launched the screamer down the corridor, bringing his gun around for any kinetics.
The figures remained disoriented as his eyes adjusted. Five of them, caught off balance. Enough light filtered down to slightly blur his vision, but not enough to negate his advantage. The screamer clicked, and four figures clutched their heads, falling to the floor, or against the wall and to the floor in the case of the rearmost one. One remained standing, and Jack hurriedly took aim as the man raised his hand, a dart hitting him before he could act. His fall took a moment longer than the others, and in seconds all lay immobile.
Raising the goggles, Jack switched the light back on, holding the gun before him as he advanced down the corridor. No further sounds came from above, and no flickers broke the light filtering down, so he let himself hope these were the extent of the group sent for him.
He
spotted movement from the supposedly unconscious figure a fraction too late, as a force slammed into his chest, sending him flying and stumbling back. While the suit took the brunt of the impact, his head took a knock from the corridor wall. He took a moment to recover his senses and to try recovering his feet. Another blast caught his hand, sending the gun he'd managed to hold onto flying, and leaving his arm numb. The man from the back of the pack advanced, one who’d fallen to t screamer. Obviously he wasn’t a telepath.
Before he could think about diving for the other weapons in his pack, or even fully regain his feet, another shunt sent Jack flying into the room, followed by another, and another, until he slammed against the far wall. A quick succession of slams kept him pinned until his attacker strode up. Finally getting a look at the man's tattooed head, Jack recognized him as the one who'd hit him during Lydia's abduction. This time he used his elbow, bringing it around to send Jack into another, all too familiar, bout of insensibility.