by Sarah Noffke
“Ren—”
“Just give me something,” I interrupt him, realizing he’s going to try and lecture me with some bloody parable. “If I can’t help then you’re no worse off than you are now.”
Trey sighs, one of resignation. “The reporter who secured these stories—”
“Your daughter,” I cut him off, my voice monotone. He always likes to pretend to others that’s she’s nobody special, although her reports undoubtedly have saved billions. I’m not exaggerating that number. This girl is the reason the planet is still spinning on its axis and not floating in tiny bits around space. She’s still a repugnant little witch, but a helpful one, nonetheless.
“Yes, my daughter,” Trey says matter-of-factly. “She received two other similar reports before this.”
“And you all couldn’t find any leads?” I ask.
“No, not in time,” Trey says, his voice regretful.
“In time? What do you mean?”
“Well, she had the vision every day for two weeks and then they disappeared both times after that period.”
“Because we can assume the event came to pass. And the timeline is two weeks for seeing the unrelenting visions,” I say.
He nods. “That’s what we think.”
“And how long has it been since she saw this event?” I say, pointing to the file detailing the discrete people in the airport.
He swallows. “Thirteen days.”
“What happened after the other events came to pass?”
“That’s the thing. Nothing,” Trey says. “The only thing that was similar was at the same hour that the events came to pass there were simultaneous abductions, but we only found that out later. They weren’t on the news reports.”
“Why is that of significance?” I say, trying to drill down to the bloody point.
“Well, in both instances there were two abductions on the same day and the individuals were linked.”
“Linked?” I say.
He nods. “Yes, in the first case, two women were taken separately. They were friends apparently. In the second case, two sisters were abducted. However, they weren’t together at the time. Again separate abductions, but the individuals associated. And in both cases there was no news report on one abduction and then the other was the one reported that we couldn’t quite see the events or people.”
“The news reporters miss things all the time,” I say.
“Yes, but why can we see one abduction on a single day, but not the other that happened at the same time? It makes no sense. And now four people have been taken,” Trey says.
“So the reporters missed one of the two abductions that happened,” I say, trying to assimilate the facts.
“Yes, and twice,” Trey says.
“So that’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Kidnappings. One we can’t quite see and another we can’t see at all, both at the same time. Scheduling has to be a key factor here,” I say. This is pretty blatant when I actually have bloody information, although there’s still a lot of mystery to uncover.
“Yes, we believe this is a case of several linked abductions, although we don’t know the significance of the individuals,” Trey says.
“Because you have a bloody lemur who’s been eating poisonous berries running your Strategic department.”
Trey’s expression remains flat.
“Do you have investigative reporters trying to figure out the background on the people abducted?” Investigative reporters are the nonclairvoyants who work in the news reporting department. They’re usually telepaths or divination experts who can track down details on cases that have been reported, but haven’t happened yet. I used them to secure more information so I could place the right agents in the right places for intervention. It’s called the Strategic department for a reason.
“They aren’t finding anything,” Trey says, his tone sounding disheartened. “Something is blocking them. Preventing them from honing in on details they’d usually be granted. And we have so little information to go off of in the first place. Without being able to see the events clearly, we’re at a serious disadvantage.”
“Then send out field agents from the Strategic department. Have them stalk these people’s jobs and family. Give them disguises and have them hunt for information, saying they’re tax assessors, or high school reunion organizers, or serving a subpoena. Whatever it takes to get access to these people’s lives. To get information that will tell who they bloody are and why someone would kidnap them,” I say.
Trey nods. “Yours would be a good strategy at this point. We haven’t been able to dig up much from public records..”
“For bloody sake, of course you haven’t. That’s not going to give you the intricate details of someone’s life that will tell you why someone wants them. You need personal details. What they do on the weekend. Who they socialize with. What they eat for dinner. How they cope with stress.” I shake my head. “God damn, sometimes I feel like I’m the only fucker actually thinking in this five-story sterile hell hole of yours.”
A lightness springs to Trey’s face and he nods. “Okay, I appreciate the consult on this.”
“Wait. That’s not enough. That’s only going to give you intel on the people who have already been abducted. What about the other one? The one who will probably disappear tomorrow?” I say.
“Well, I’m afraid we’re running out of options and time. Our best bet is to watch the reports and get to them as soon as we learn who they are.”
I blow out a hot breath. It isn’t the first time, but I’m fairly disappointed in the man before me. “After they’re gone? Wow, your expectations have seriously gone down-fucking-hill since I took a demotion. You’re just going to allow some bloke to be abducted.”
“I don’t see what choice I have. I need more information on who is doing this. I’m having to work backwards in these cases,” Trey says in his always tired voice.
“Let me question your daughter,” I say.
“What?” Trey says, startled by the unexpected request.
“Roya saw these reports. Maybe I can use some techniques to help her see the visions more clearly. To give us some details.”
The hesitation is strong in Trey’s eyes. He knows what I’m going to employ. He knows how dangerous my techniques can be. And he knows she’s not going to bloody like it. But he, like me, knows we have limited time and resources on this case. Someone is blocking us from seeing things clearly. And someone is abducting people for a reason. Finally he nods. “Fine. You can question her, but then you are going to turn over that information to me. That’s all of your involvement on this case. Okay?”
“Sure, sure,” I say, striding for the door
And just like that I did what Trey predicted and edged my way into this case.
Chapter Sixteen
I cruise into the lab, where I suspect I’ll find Trey’s daughter. She’s in the middle of a conversation with the Head Scientist, who is really just a more primitive ape with a PhD.
“Roya, we need to talk,” I say, cutting off their chat which is probably about their My Little Pony collection.
She swivels around. “Excuse me, you do realize you’re interrupting?”
I huff. “I have an unbelievably high IQ. Of course I know I’m interrupting.”
“Hey, Ren,” Aiden, the monkey scientist, chirps. He’s nice to me because he knows it makes me want to strangle him and he secretly has a death wish.
“I’m not here to talk to you, fund waster,” I say to the geek in glasses. His Science department is responsible for the security and technology that has made the Institute incredibly successful and also more than once a target for serious and deadly attacks. Aiden’s technology also comprises half of the ridiculous budget that funds the Institute. Not a huge deal since the news reports ensure that large chunks of money are constantly flowing in, but it still always irked me that his budget was double mine. It’s more of a commentary on how technology is appreciated more than strategi
c thinking. Why fucking problem solve when one can just employ a shiny device to fix the issue?
“What do you want?” Roya says. She has Trey’s green eyes and his light-colored hair. She’s short though and it always annoys me that I have to tuck my chin to look at her. Short people should have to carry stools around to save normal people from backaches. They should also have to keep their mouths shut since most of them are overcompensating for their stunted growth with sassy attitudes.
“What I want is a word with you and not one with that space chimp.” I direct my finger at Aiden, who is smiling broadly at me like insults are of great amusement to him. “Follow me,” I say to Roya and turn and walk off.
I hear the heavy sigh that is trademark Roya. She doesn’t act like a spoiled little brat because she’s the Head Official’s daughter but rather because it’s a part of her ingrained makeup. Some people are just jerks no matter how nice you are to them. I turn at the door to the empty office next to the lab and as I suspected Roya is following me, her eyes narrowed. The button on the wall clicks under my fingers before sending the motorized door receding into the wall. I walk in first and take a seat.
“Sit,” I say to Roya, who has her hands on her hips and that look she reserves just for me. She pretends to dislike me, but I know better. I may not be her favorite person but I’m high up on the list. This girl is just like her father and she respects people who have a superior work ethic.
“You know you aren’t the Head Strategist anymore and I don’t have to do a damn thing you say,” she says, her voice mechanical. Another trait she inherited from Trey. A bunch of bloody robots, these two.
“When did you ever do anything I asked?” I say, an expression of offense on my face.
“What do you want, Ren?”
“I already told you. I want you to sit,” I say plainly, waving my hand at the chair on the other side of the desk.
She ties her arms in front of her chest and just stares at me, noncompliant.
Why the fuck do I have to deal with so many repugnant young adult girls lately? I thought I was an agent for the most powerful organization in the world and not a bloody Head Master at Hogwarts.
“Do you want to ram your dumb head into the wall?” I finally say, like it’s a real possibility.
Without missing a beat she gives me a false smile. “Oh yes, that sounds fantastic. What a great idea. You are brilliant.”
I roll my eyes at her failure to be clever. “Well, knocking your head into the wall is exactly what will happen if you don’t take a seat, Roya.” I say her name with an inflection on the last syllable. It’s like my little nickname for her. Ro-YA. She hates it. “Look, I’m going to hypnotize you so I can gain details on the level five case you’ve been seeing. If you aren’t sitting down then you’re going to fall over. Got it? Now sit.”
“Hypnotize me?” she says with a sudden laugh. “The hell you are. You think I’m going to allow you in my head? Who knows what delusions you’ll place in there?”
Roya isn’t as dumb as I try to treat her. She’s actually one of few people who can resist my hypnotism if she tries. That’s why I need her compliance for this to work. But she’s savvy enough to know that while I’m getting details from the vision I could also be sticking in subliminal messages. Hypnosis is really just a method for opening up the subconscious, which is where our mainframe resides. Once inside there I have access to everything.
“Your father authorized this,” I say plainly.
“I don’t care if God authorized it,” she says, that bold look always in her eyes.
“You and I both know we don’t take orders from God. We take them from his boss. Your father,” I say.
“Oh, please,” she says, turning for the hallway.
“I will only sneak in and have a glimpse at the level five vision. No funny business,” I say.
She turns back and gives me an even deeper skeptical expression than before. “Just the level five case? Do you promise?”
What is with girls and bloody promises? “No. And never, ever believe anyone who makes a promise to you. Only people with low IQs or ulterior motives have any reason to make promises.”
“Well, I know we need to obtain more details on these cases I’m seeing,” she says, her eyes angled at the wall to the right, her voice sounding like she’s weighing her options. “But I can’t allow you in my head without knowing if I can trust you in there.”
“Just let me in your head,” I say dryly.
“Why? Why should I?”
“Roya, I’m not your bestie who is trying to copy your algebra homework. I’m not some prankster who wants to rummage through the obnoxious files in your head for information I can use against you later. I’m a fucking agent trying to save fucking lives. You are a bloody news reporter. Can we end this lame negotiation since I’m running out of time to complete this case? We both know you’re going to sit in this chair and allow me to hypnotize you. Because if you don’t then you’ll be culpable for another kidnapping, which is obviously linked to a dangerous and powerful person or otherwise they wouldn’t have your vision blocked. Got it, luv?”
The frustration is heavy in her eyes, but after several seconds she rips the chair back and throws herself down into it. Nothing graceful about the movements. All hot anger. “Only the vision. That’s all you get access to. And no implanting,” Roya says.
“Oh, too bad,” I say, pulling a silver ballpoint pen out of my breast pocket, also the instrument I use for hypnotizing. “I really thought you’d enjoy speaking in a cockney accent for the rest of your life.”
She narrows her eyes at me, but underneath there’s a tiny smile, just like how her father regards me most the time.
“Now focus on the pen and my voice,” I say as I begin twirling the instrument in my hand, around my thumb and through my fingers. Her eyes glass over immediately.
***
Roya’s head drops after only thirty seconds.
“Pull up your most recent news report,” I say, setting the pen on the table. Therapists who employ this hypnosis trick have to use suggestions to take down the wall, but they are lowly Middlings not gifted with my psychic powers. Roya’s subconscious is wide open after only peering at my hand movements for half a minute. Of course if she hadn’t consented then this would have been more difficult, although not impossible.
“Do you see the vision?” I say.
“Yes,” she says, her voice half a whisper.
“It’s moving fast, isn’t it? Like it did before where you couldn’t capture any details?”
“Yes,” she says, like she’s talking in her sleep.
“And what you see is a blur, right?”
“Yes,” she says again.
“It’s only a vision, though, and those can be paused. I want you to do that now. Pause this vision.”
Her shoulders, which are usually pinned up high, are drooped now.
“Have you frozen the vision?” I say, watching her.
“Yes,” she says. Speaking during this level of hypnotism is difficult, but I only need one-word answers.
“Now hone in on the details around you. I want you to sharpen everything until you can see the image crisply,” I say.
Whoever put the psychic block on these visions did it by making it so clairvoyants can only see things in fast forward. I’m not sure how they accomplished this, since I’ve never seen that type of skill before. It’s a tampering. And it makes me incredibly concerned about this person we’re after. That would take an extremely strong individual. However, Roya still saw the vision and it’s stored in her subconscious, which is being told to see it at double speed, but I have the power to stop that transmission.
“What do you see now?” I say.
“Airport.”
“Yes,” I say with a sigh. “We already know that. I want you to turn around until you find Person E. Move slowly,” I encourage, knowing that anything can yank the vision out of her head. Especially if it’s being protecte
d by another Dream Traveler.
“Red,” she says.
“What’s that?” I say, leaning forward.
“Shirt,” she says.
“Person E is wearing a red shirt?” I say.
She half nods.
It’s not much, but before Roya’s report only saw a misty figure since this major detail was being shielded from her. To be able to black out a person is a unique thing to do.
“Hoodie,” she says.
“Red hoodie,” I say, tapping the pen on the desk, thinking. That’s quite specific and should be all we need to find this person if we know where to look.
“Pivot and tell me what you see around you. Is there anything that’s distinct? Artwork? Pictures?”
She seems to squint with her eyes closed. Pauses. Turns her head around like she’s studying the empty office, but I know it’s her vision.
“Florida,” she mumbles, sounding drunk.
“What? You’re in Florida? Is it the Miami airport? Orlando? Can you tell?” I say, pulling a business card from my pocket and jotting down notes.
She shakes her head; her long blonde hair falls and stays in her face covering up one closed eye.
“No. Fleur-de-lis,” Roya says.
“Ah, got it,” I say, writing down two words.
“Now I want you to look for a clock. Tell me what time it is,” I say.
Confusion marks the space between her eyes. She shakes her head. And if she could talk properly she’d probably whine about how she can’t find one.
“Roya, it’s a bloody airport. There’s a clock. Look,” I say, my tone bordering on something that could pull her out of the hypnosis. We know where to go and who to look for but we need an exact time.
“Ten,” she stutters.
“Ten p.m.?” I say.
She nods slightly, but then shakes her head. “Ten twenty-six,” Roya says, her voice suddenly clear, confident.
I write those two numbers down and rise at once, leaving her entranced in the office. She’ll wake up in an hour or two. Maybe three. Hope she didn’t have any plans.