by Jason Brant
I focused on closing my mind off even more. Her thoughts had bled into mine, and I’d found myself wrapped up in her inner turmoil before I even recognized my mental drift. Digging around in her personal conflict made me feel dirty.
Peeping Toms had nothing on me.
“What exactly are we supposed to do here?” Briggs asked. “Every fed in the country is after this Smith guy after the hell he unleashed. What more can we do?”
“No one else knows about what we’re doing. Only President Thomas and the people in this room have any knowledge of the psy-ops our country has been running for years. That gives us an upper hand over other law-enforcement agencies. We have just been granted full autonomy to pursue Smith within our borders, and we have a limited amount of time to do it.” Nelson folded his hands in his lap. “We’re understaffed, underfunded, and the time constraints placed upon us are less than ideal. But we’ve put together a good team, and we’re going to do our best to bring the greatest terrorist this country has ever known to justice.”
Tate clapped slowly. “Great speech.”
Huxx interjected, “That sounds wonderful and all, but it doesn’t answer how we find a man the entire FBI can’t track down?”
“We’re under the umbrella of the Department of Homeland Security. The president has granted us unbridled access to any investigative details that other bureaus and agencies have dug up.” Nelson cocked a thumb over his shoulder at me. “And we have our very own telepath. If we can track down even one person who knows anything about Smith or his whereabouts, Lieutenant Benson will get everything we need from them.”
I didn’t bother correcting the lieutenant thing again. Damn, it got old though.
Drew’s phone chirped in his pocket.
He pulled it out, checked the screen. “Excuse me.” He slid out of the room, pulling the door closed behind him.
Nelson watched him leave, eyes narrowing. “As much as I understand your confusion and agitation, we don’t have time to deal with everyone’s concerns.”
“You don’t have time to answer all of our questions?” Bree asked. “But you want us to put our asses on the line?”
I stood up. “Smith used his madness signal in the subway of Washington, D.C. this morning. Fifty more people are dead. How long until he uses it over the P.A. system at a football game? You’re all here because you want to save lives. This is your chance.”
12 – A Woman-Child
Bree followed the small woman-child down the stairs. Her thoughts were still reeling from the bullshit that Nelson and the giant man, Asher, had been slinging.
Telepaths and mind control.
Bree scoffed as they stepped onto the next floor and walked down a hallway.
“Something funny?” Nami asked over her shoulder. Her pigtails swayed with each step.
“Everything about this is a joke.”
They moved past several doors, before stopping in front of one.
Nami waved her hand toward it. “Your domicile.”
Bree grabbed the handle, opened it. Light from the hall spilled into a tiny, dark room. It looked more like a dormitory room than an apartment. She grimaced as she looked at the small bed, desk, and kitchenette area.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope.” Nami shook her head, pigtails flapping. “Welcome to paradise.”
Bree grunted. She walked inside, flipped the light on.
Nami followed.
Two objects Bree recognized sat on the floor at the foot of her bed. They were both duffel bags that she took to the gym and to work. She bent down, unzipped one. Some of her clothing was jammed inside, unfolded and wrinkled. She grabbed one of her bras and held it up.
“You broke into my house and went through my things?” Bree glared at Nami. “Went through my underwear?”
“Take a pill, sweet cheeks. I didn’t go through anything. I’ve got better things to do than sniff your panties.”
Bree grimaced. The little woman had quite a mouth on her.
Nami gestured to the corner of the room. “We’re in a time crunch here, so I’m sure they wanted to speed your arrival up.”
The custom rifle Bree had shot that morning sat in the corner of the room, propped against the side of a refrigerator. Several boxes of ammo and her spotting scope were stacked beside it.
“I didn’t give permission for any of this.” Bree dropped the bra and walked to the rifle. She picked it up, inspecting it for damage or dirt.
She worked the action.
Everything seemed to be in order.
“Someone seeing what color your thongs are will be the least of your concerns.” Nami plopped down on the bed. “Ashley probably already knows shit about you that no one else does.”
“Ashley?”
“Ash. Asher. Ashley. Whatever. The big meathead who sat in there with us. If he’s cleared you to be here, then he’s already been balls deep in your brain.”
Bree recoiled. “I’m not sure I even know what that means, but it sounds disgusting.”
“I do my best.” Nami flashed a toothy grin.
Having worked with cops for so many years, Bree had grown accustomed to coarse language and sexual innuendos. She even liked to let loose a streak of profanities when the time called for it, but that woman took things to another level.
“I’m not buying this telepathic bullshit.” She placed the rifle back in the corner and turned to Nami. “You can drop the act.”
“It’s not—”
“Spare me. I know a mentalist when I see one.”
“Girlfriend, you’re in for a rude awakening. You think being a cop has you prepared for what’s coming? I’ve seen shit that would make you blow chunks all over the place. This isn’t a magic act. Ashley is a big doofus, but he’s the real deal.” The grin slid from Nami’s face. “He’s saved my black ass more than once.”
Bree could only shake her head. She couldn’t believe an obvious con artist had managed to fool so many people into believing his nonsense. He’d known a lot about all of them, sure, but that just meant he’d spent time studying their files. And good mentalists had a vast array of tricks up their sleeves to extract information from their marks on the fly.
They could make educated guesses about someone that were eerily accurate. It often made people think of them as supernatural. Or telepathic, as that Asher scammer had made everyone believe.
Nami watched her. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“I highly doubt that.”
“You’re a sassy one, aren’t you? I like it. You’re going to need that to get through the crap we’re going to dive into.” Nami slid off the bed. “I’ve gotta get back to work. In the closet over there, you’ll find your uniform and body armor. Try it on and make sure everything fits. I have a feeling you’ll be wearing it soon. Shit is going down.”
The small woman jaunted out of the room, leaving Bree to stare at the open door.
“What the hell have you gotten yourself into?” she asked herself.
13 – Thinking Hurts
I stood in the hallway by myself, watching Drew’s back as he talked into his phone. Everyone else had left the interrogation room. Nelson went back to his office. Nami had taken Manning to her room.
The three stooges, who had been in the facility for a few days already, went to the shooting range. They were up there now, talking about how full of shit I was.
Manning thought the same thing.
While we were in the room, they hadn’t believed what I was saying. Now that they were away from me, their disbelief had turned to outright scorn. They viewed me as a huckster and a con artist.
That didn’t surprise me much. They’d all experienced incredible things in their line of work, but nothing had ever appeared to be supernatural. Everything was real, grounded.
I didn’t even like thinking about my abilities as supernatural. That didn’t feel right. It cheapened the shittiness of what I had to deal with. It wasn’t that I had some kind
of paranormal powers like a member of the X-Men, but more that I’d unfortunately unlocked a part of my brain that most people hadn’t.
And it sucked.
Drew finally ended the call and walked back to me. “That was Detective Johns. He’s covering my caseload while I’m playing spy with you.”
“Okay?”
“Two women called him today looking for me. One refused to tell him anything, which raised his suspicions. He traced her number and got me a name.”
“You aren’t exactly blowing my skirt up with this riveting information.”
“She lives in D.C.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Drew worked in Baltimore. There was little reason for someone from another city to be calling him about a case he was investigating. The timing of the call and the happenings in the capitol earlier in the morning might not have been a coincidence.
Drew was nodding at me. “Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“Thinking. I can practically see you working things out in that tiny brain of yours. Smoke is coming out of your ears.”
“Hilarious.”
“Thanks.” Drew stuffed his phone in his pocket and then took his jacket off. “I’ll get Nami to pull up some info on her, see what her deal is. If she had anything to do with what happened in the subway this morning, then this could be our first break.”
“You said two women called for you today? Did you sign up for one of those online dating sites?”
“If I signed up to an online dating site, then why would they be calling me? They’d send me an email. You should at least know what you’re talking about if you’re going to give me a hard time.”
Damn. I really needed to learn more about that Internet thing. It just might catch on one day.
I shrugged. “I don’t know how these things work.”
“Maybe you can sign up for one of those classes little old ladies take so they can learn how to check their email and use the incredibly complicated Google.”
“I miss this.” I grinned, clopped him on the shoulder.
“What?”
“This. Giving each other shit all the time. Just like the good old days when you’d come by my apartment and give me an ass chewing for being drunk by noon.”
We stood in silence for a moment. It got awkward.
I grunted. “Not saying I want to hold hands or anything.”
“You’re the one making it sound like we used to date.” Drew’s shoulders sagged. “The other call came from Allison.”
“What?” I felt my stomach tense. “Allison Henley?”
“Yeah. She basically threatened me. Said she’d go to the press and tell them I was in Arthur’s Creek during The Massacre if I don’t call her back. I’d bet my pension that she wants to know about you.”
“Damn it. Nelson is going to blow his lid.” I closed my eyes, leaned my head back so my face pointed at the ceiling.
It wouldn’t surprise me if Nelson had her detained in some military prison camp so she couldn’t talk. We were under enough pressure and scrutiny already without the press learning that Drew and I had been in West Virginia during The Massacre. The heat around us had finally subsided after the events of D.C. and we didn’t need things getting hot all over again.
And what really worried me was whether she knew anything about me. She’d seen what I could do, but she’d been badly wounded and in a serious state of shock. I hoped she didn’t remember anything. If nothing else, her state of mind at the time would keep her from being certain about what she’d seen.
But why else would she be dropping the hammer on Drew? She knew something. If she started weaving fantastical tales about Drew and me, then Nelson would have no choice but to lock her up somewhere.
I couldn’t abide that.
Being in my orbit had harmed enough people.
“We’ll have to deal with her later,” Drew said. “Don’t tell Nelson anything about Allison until I can talk to her.”
“I promise not to tattle to the hall monitor.”
“We need to get moving or we’ll lose Smith’s trail from this morning.” Drew’s face hardened. “If we haven’t already. He’s a little slicker than the typical scumbags I have to find.”
“Shocking that former intelligence officers and spies are good at avoiding detection. Who knew?”
We headed for Nami’s office.
14 – Hashtag
I rapped my knuckles on Nami’s metal door. “Housekeeping.”
“Eat me,” she called from within the office.
The door opened a moment later.
“You know, I can’t get any goddamn work done if I have to deal with you two clowns all day. If I have to answer this door every five seconds, I’m going to go postal.”
Drew ignored her rant. “Did they grant your access to DHS databases yet?”
“Some of them, yeah. FBI and DEA criminal databases too. Not all of them though, obviously.”
“Good. We need you to look someone up.” Drew walked past her, disappearing through the next door.
“Come on in,” Nami said sarcastically. “I have all the time in the world to look random crap up for you guys. It’s not like I’m in here trying to recover data from burned and crushed hard drives or—”
“Stop your bitching.” I stepped into the office, closed the door behind me. “You won’t be the one getting shot at when we find Smith.”
Nami paused. “That’s a decent point, Gigantor.”
Another anime played on one of her monitors. A small Japanese girl had giant tentacles wrapped around her on the screen.
Drew stared at it. “Jesus, Nami. What in the hell are you watching in here?”
“It’s a brilliant series about—”
“That was a rhetorical question, Short Round.” I sat in a chair opposite her desk.
“Oh. Well, fuck you too.” Nami hopped in her seat, spun around so she faced her desk. “Who do you need me to look up?”
“Her name is Christie Tolbert. She lives in D.C.” Drew held his phone out so Nami could see the screen. “This is her phone number.”
Nami brought up a window on her computer.
She went to Facebook.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “You can check up on your boyfriend later.”
Nami showed me her middle finger over her shoulder. “Don’t sass me, dick cheese. Assuming she’s a plain old civilian, Facebook will have a much more accurate profile of her than any law-enforcement database. And it’ll be a hell of a lot faster. We’ll know everything about her in seconds.”
“Nice thinking,” Drew said. “We should’ve had you on the payroll in homicide.”
“You couldn’t afford me.”
I sat behind them in my own little Luddite world. Maybe I did need to sign up for some of those old-lady classes about the Internet. I never would have thought of using Facebook to look up someone.
Because I was old, I guessed.
Christ, I needed a beer.
“Got her.” Nami leaned back, crossed her arms over her chest. “Hashtag—huzzah.”
Christie’s profile picture showed her standing behind a bar in a provocative uniform, a pitcher of beer held in each hand.
“My kind of woman.” I leaned forward. “So why would she be calling Drew?”
Nami scrolled through her feed, finding nothing. “Dunno. She’s a bartender. Seems kind of unhappy with her job, judging by her posts.”
“If she’s a bartender, then she might have been on the subway this morning if she worked really late.” Drew drummed his fingers on Nami’s desk. “Is the security footage from the attack available yet?”
“I haven’t checked. I’ve had to answer the door every five seconds this morning.” Nami looked up at Drew. “Vamanos, Baldie.”
He took a big step backward.
Nami grabbed her desk and shoved herself to the right. Her chair rolled along plastic on the floor. She slid down to the next desk where
she grabbed hold, stopping in front of another computer.
“This is on the SIPRnet. I can’t access the other federal databases unless I use this connection. It’s kind of a pain in the ass.” Nami grinned at me over her shoulder. “I look pretty cool sliding around the office though, right?”
“You and I have very different definitions of cool.”
“Definitions? That’s a four-syllable word. You feel okay after using that?”
“I hate all of you.” I got up, walked over to her.
Looked over her shoulder at the monitor.
Nami’s fingers worked their magic across the keyboard.
She went to a sparse-looking website.
Logged in.
Tapped away at a series of screens so quickly that I didn’t have time to read them.
I was starting to get seriously concerned that I might in fact be a total moron. She and Drew were operating on another level. Was I always so stupid or did the drinking and traumatic brain injury make things worse?
The urge to flex in their faces hit me. I fought it though, not wanting to make them incredibly jealous of my beautiful, sculpted muscles.
I was still more awesome than they were.
Obviously.
Drew rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows, exposing his mangled wrist.
Nami glanced at it. “How’s the Freddy Krueger joint doing, anyway?”
“Getting better. My fingers still tingle, but I’m getting movement back.”
“The scars are unholy.”
“My wrist-modeling career is probably over.”
More screens zipped by. More clicks came from the mouse.
Then another window popped up.
“Got it,” Nami said. “Looks it just went up twenty minutes ago. What do you want to see?”
“Skip to the attack, then backtrack thirty seconds.”
The video showed a relatively quiet subway platform. Commuters stood around, waiting for the train to arrive. Everything seemed fine, calm.