Listen (Muted Trilogy Book 2)

by Spoke, Nikita

  Working with Senator Myles

  Maybe you can’t picture a United States senator spending his weekend working to rebuild homes not too far from where he grew up, but that’s what Senator Myles Pratt spent his weekend doing.

  Arriving before most of the crew, Pratt refused the standard photo op, instead choosing the more demanding and dirty tasks, taking the shortest breaks, and being one of the last to leave.

  Once a regular volunteer with Habitat for Humanity, the senator now works to restore homes in impoverished areas, working with groups who aim to keep people in their homes now that so many have been abandoned. Insulation is improved to reduce heating and cooling costs, roofs are replaced, major repairs are done, all at little or no cost to the homeowner. It’s rumored that he also contributes to the cost financially, but of course, the biggest donations are anonymous.

  When asked for a quote, Pratt wrote, “Anything I say is going to take attention from the cause and put it on me instead. How about putting down the phone and picking up a hammer?”

  Though my shoulders regret the fact that I took his advice, the work was certainly rewarding, and I encourage you to do the same. After all, you may catch a glimpse of our illustrious local senator in the process.

  — Thomas Larkson

  Jemma caught herself nibbling the corner of her thumbnail. She stopped, turning the page to browse the rest of the paper, pausing when she felt gentle pressure along her connection with Jack. “I made it through security, no real issues.”

  “Were there fake issues?”

  “They do random ID checks. Since I didn’t have any weapons, said I was there for moral support and had forgotten my wallet, they let it slide. I’m on my way up to Pratt’s office.”

  “All right. The most recent article about him makes him sound like a decent guy. He might be willing to see you, even if he’s busy.”

  “We’ll know soon enough.” Jack let the connection dim, and Jemma turned her attention back to the paper in front of her. There was nothing else noteworthy in the first paper, so she continued leafing through them until the next update from Jack, reminding herself to keep her face expressionless as she Talked to him, bringing a larger paper up in front of her, just in case. “There’s a secretary who works for any visiting politicians. I guess he isn’t the only one who works from this building part time. She says he’s not seeing anybody today, but she did confirm he’s in. I said I would wait. She didn’t like that too much, but she didn’t argue and doesn’t seem to have called security.”

  “Will she give him a message for you if you put one together?” sent Jemma.

  “I’m not sure. Want to help draft one? I’ll grab my pen and paper.”

  Jemma got hers as well; she would be able to think through a message more effectively that way. She tapped the pen against her lips a couple of times. “We don’t want to come right out and say it unless we have to, right? Not where somebody else could see. We could try an acrostic, but that still doesn’t let us feel him out before committing. We can let him know the topic, at least, and see whether he bites?”

  “See whether he’ll talk if we let him know it’s about telepathy?”

  “Right. How about saying that you’d like to discuss his point of view on the applications of telepathy? Anyone unable to Talk to those outside of family wouldn’t have an idea of many applications.”

  “Okay, I’ll see whether the secretary will pass that along. Thanks.” The connection dimmed again, and Jemma set down the pen, taking in a deep breath and looking around.

  Being back in a library, even one so visually, architecturally different from her own, it was somehow both relaxing and stimulating. Jack was right. This was her comfort zone, even if it wasn’t her library, even if it wasn’t her ideal situation.

  She turned her attention back to the newspapers, finding a few more fluff pieces on the senator before she finally found a political piece on him, but it held nothing that seemed relevant to their situation, only his party affiliation and the fact that he consistently voted for the causes he publicly supported.

  The guy still seemed almost too good to be true. Jack should be safe in the well-guarded building, one where nobody was expecting them, so even if Pratt turned out to be a fake, even if, worst case, he was actively working for those who had captured them, Jack should be able to leave unharmed.

  She hoped.

  Jemma folded the newspapers she’d already been through, setting them aside in alphabetical order at the corner of the table, then walked around the room, running her fingers along the spines of the books, straightening the few that had been pushed back from the edge. Nobody else was in the room, and she kept the door in her peripheral vision, ready to return to the backpacks if anyone entered. This particular reading room held the historical volumes, local texts covering centuries. Nothing was recent enough to be relevant to her current search, so once she felt in control of herself again, in control of her worry for Jack, who she could feel was still at the other end of their connection, she returned to searching the newspapers.

  “He won’t see me,” sent Jack, finally. “It took him a while to decide or it took him a while to read the message. I can’t tell which. I know which office is his now, though. I don’t think trying to run in is a good idea, but I can see whether I can Talk to him from the door, and I can see what exits are closest. He can’t be here much longer. The business day is all but over. People are already leaving.”

  “Just be careful.” Jemma pulled the laptop from her backpack. If he wasn’t able to find a way to Talk to the senator, they were going to need to find a place to sleep. The park plan had failed even in a place they were familiar with, so she started out with a search for local hotels, ones that were cheap enough that they could stay through the weekend and that might not look too closely at them if they didn’t have ID. This city was bigger than home and might have more options that would fall into that category. She’d barely started the search when she felt a mental nudge from Jack.

  “He’s leaving. I haven’t been able to Talk to him, but I haven’t gotten very close, either. It looks like he’s going out an exit to the east of the main entrance. Meet me there.”

  Jemma sent a surge of acknowledgment, put away her laptop, donned her backpack and slung Jack’s over one shoulder. With a wince at the newspapers she was leaving on the table of the reading room, she left.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Binding

  Jemma didn’t see anyone exiting the building where Jack had described, so she made her way to the nearest parking lot on that side. As she rounded the corner, she saw Jack holding up his hands apologetically. The man in front of him, Senator Pratt, looked surprised, but not threatening. His eyes flickered from Jack to Jemma, then back again.

  “That you?” sent Jack, and Jemma replied with a wordless affirmative before moving closer. Jack reached for their phone, pulling it out so he could type. “Senator Pratt? I’m Jack. It’s nice to meet you.” He held out his hand, and the other man took two steps forward to shake it, looking cautious only briefly before pasting on a political presence, straightening his shoulders and forcing a smile.

  “Can you hear me?” sent Jack, and the senator’s smile slipped. He pulled away his hand as if shocked, and he turned back to his car. “Wait! We need your help.” When he continued, the senator paused, his fingers on the handle, and bowed his head. He let go and turned back to face them, looking around the parking lot before settling his gaze on Jack. “He says it isn’t safe to Talk like this in public and asks if it can wait,” relayed Jack.

  “Not really,” sent Jemma, focusing on the senator, who jumped and closed his eyes. He opened them, looking around the parking lot again before gesturing at his car.

  “All right, okay, just get in,” his voice echoed in her head.

  Jack turned to look at her, eyebrow raised, and Jemma nodded. They’d come here hoping to be able to trust this man, and he seemed, if anything, more worried than they were. Jack cli
mbed in behind the senator, and Jemma got in on the other side, the car moving before she’d even had time to buckle.

  “I’m Jemma,” she sent, making sure Jack could hear the conversation, too, ignoring the slight pressure at the front of her mind; she’d felt this often enough with Josh and knew she could go for hours before it turned to pain, as long as whatever deterioration was causing it hadn’t gotten too much worse. The break, the days off with only having to Talk to Jack, they’d helped. She hoped.

  Myles Pratt took a hand off the steering wheel for long enough to wave it dismissively. “I need to concentrate on getting home and making sure we’re not being followed, that nobody was watching us. We’ll talk there.”

  Jack reached over and took Jemma’s hand, and Jemma watched the buildings as they drove past, seeing them change from governmental buildings to businesses, from businesses to homes, from homes to mansions. It was at one of these, nearly half an hour later, that they finally stopped, parking in front of a doorway framed by old-fashioned columns.

  Taking in the architecture, after they got out of the car, how much of the house resembled a plantation home, Jemma decided after a moment that they were less likely old-fashioned and more likely just old, but restored beautifully. The electronic lock was at odds with the rest of the entryway, and Jemma looked away as he entered his code, then gestured for them to join him, locking the door behind them. He put down his keys and wallet on a stand just inside the door and walked into one of the first rooms off the hallway, which appeared to be a study of some sort.

  “Scotch?” he asked, producing glasses. When they shook their heads, he gestured for them to sit on the leather furniture. “I know this house is a bit much for just me, but I’m expected to entertain from time to time, and it’s as good a place to do it as any. I’ve a housekeeper and groundskeeper, both of whom live in other buildings on the premises. The second floor is a bit more relaxed than this one.” He sat, pulling at the knot of his tie. “Sorry. It’s been a long week, and I didn’t exactly expect…” He took a sip of his drink. “I haven’t been able to Talk to anyone in ages.”

  Jemma felt a surge of sympathy for him, remembering an article speculating as much, thanks to the lack of serious attachments in his life and the fact that his family had moved across the country several years earlier. “You have been able to Talk to others, then?” she sent.

  He bit at the inside of his lip. “You first. You said you needed my help. I never would’ve risked this, otherwise, but I’ve always been a sucker for that. Dad told me politics was a bad idea, but I wanted to make a difference, and I’d like to think I have.” He took a breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t get nervous in a room full of snakes, but apparently you two are setting off some sort of warning bells. Go ahead.”

  “You’ve already figured out we can Talk to certain people we don’t know,” sent Jack.

  “Obviously.”

  “Well,” he continued, “we were watched for it, for a while, then taken.”

  “You were taken?” Pratt stood, downing his drink before setting the empty glass on the bar. “I shouldn’t have brought you here. You were actually taken? They watched me at first, but I played dumb, and I’m high profile enough that I figured without being sure… But you were taken? Please tell me they decided you were useless and let you go, not that you escaped and that they’re looking for you?” Jemma rubbed her arm and looked at Jack, which must have been answer enough; the senator started pacing. “Okay. Okay. It’s okay. It’s done. We can figure this out. If they didn’t take me after they took Roger, it’s not like they take everybody with a connection. And we weren’t followed here, I’m almost sure of it, so maybe they don’t even know you’re here.”

  “Who’s Roger?” asked Jack. “It sounds like you know almost as much as we do.”

  “I’m not sure.” He shook his head, continuing to pace. “I might know less, since you were held, but I’ve been digging, almost since the beginning, and I’m very well placed for digging.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Roger was staff, someone I saw in passing for seconds, maybe a minute or two tops, just a few times a week when I was in D.C.. I spent a bit more time there right after the Event, while everything was still chaotic, and I was still there when the telepathy kicked in, and then, just by chance, I end up Talking to this guy about something as innocuous as what sort of coffee I want. I didn’t even know his name.” He flushed at that, but continued pacing. “So of course he starts telling everyone that he can Talk to people he doesn’t know. He didn’t just use my name; he made it sound like it was just a thing he could do, Talk to almost everyone, when I’m pretty sure it was me, maybe one or two others. Then he comes to me in a panic, says he’s being followed by men who work with the government. I figure he’s faking it, telling more stories, until he disappears.”

  “Which seems to be something that happened to anyone who let people find out about that,” Jack offered into the silence.

  “Right,” Pratt continued. “It took longer for people who hid it, but there were still disappearances that fit the same pattern, once I started looking, and how would they know, whoever was responsible for taking these people, unless they knew who to monitor in the first place? I pulled some strings, quietly got my hands on some classified files, and then I—” He ran his hand through his hair and sat again, looking at the floor. “There’s this company, Tricorporation Biochemical Dynamics, they do a lot of contract work for the government in general, the military in specific. It isn’t all they do, but it’s where they get the bulk of their income, so when I saw their name, when I saw that they were the ones involved, I started being even more cautious. I haven’t seen anything that tells me that the military commissioned the Event, but Tricorp BioD is definitely the one who orchestrated it.”

  “They orchestrated it? They didn’t just take advantage of it?” asked Jack.

  Jemma was sorting through the pieces in her mind. She felt a sort of numbness, but not really surprise. They’d known that they’d been targeted before the Event, and they knew that whoever was running the lab wanted to study telepathy, and that now the people in charge were trying to find a way to reverse the Event, if not as efficiently as they should be. That they’d engineered the Event itself wasn’t that much of a stretch.

  “The best I can tell,” Pratt sent, seeming unaware of any possible revelation, “they wanted to use telepathy for military applications, and somebody had the bright idea to force a mass study. I suspect it wasn’t as controlled as they’d hoped, but that’s just a guess. They started out subtle, at least, using blood banks and the like to check for something, I’m not sure what. They had lists they generated from there.”

  “That’s why they started watching us,” Jack sent.

  “I lucked out,” sent Pratt. “I had to go out of the country shortly before they seem to have put their lists together, and I wasn’t on them. And now, since then, I’ve been trying to stay under the radar as best I can while still gathering information. They’re running out of funds, and they’re getting desperate. I’m not sure what they’re trying to do, exactly, since they clearly succeeded in giving people telepathy, but again, I’ve got a guess, and it seems to have to do with people who can Talk to strangers.” His lips twitched, and he finally looked up at Jack and Jemma. “They have several labs. I haven’t located all of them, but I’m working on it. I’m limited by trying to keep my cover. I’m not gonna be taken, too. I doubt I can help from in a lab.”

  “It’s a pretty helpless feeling, being in there,” sent Jemma, and Jack took her hand again, sending reassurance.

  “You shouldn’t have to go back,” sent the senator. “I’m sorry I panicked. I mean, I’m not sorry I’m being cautious. But as long as I don’t think you led anyone here, you’re welcome to stay. My dad said this house was part of the Underground Railroad, and it’s got a few hiding places, so even when I’m entertaining, there are safe places for you. I’d rather you stay in those when the housekeeper is here, to
o, but I could let her take vacation for a while, as long as you can pick up after yourselves.”

  “I think we can manage that in exchange for a place to stay,” sent Jack. Jemma suspected the combination of sarcasm and gratefulness was just for her. “Thank you, Senator.”

  He waved. “Call me Myles, unless I’m being a prat.” The line was sent absently, one delivered often, but Jemma chuckled anyway. “A place to hide, I hope,” he continued, “is the help you needed?”

  “A large part of it, yes,” sent Jack. “As for the rest, I think Jemma is the better one to explain.”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  What Could Be

  “While we were being held, I overheard a little bit about some of the potential side effects of the Event,” sent Jemma.

  Myles frowned. “Besides everyone going mute and developing telepathy, you mean?”

  She nodded. “People are getting headaches, collapsing. I didn’t hear as much as I’d like, but if it isn’t reversed, it sounds like people are going to start dying. It doesn’t sound like anyone outside of the testing facilities will be spared, and within those facilities, those of us who they’re actually testing weren’t always doing so well.”

  “Jemma was pushed too hard,” sent Jack. “She showed a little more promise than the rest of us, and they didn’t take her headaches seriously enough because they thought they’d get their answers out of her.” Jack’s connection narrowed slightly, and Jemma felt the background presence of low-level support and affection, emotions she hadn’t even been aware he was sending, fade. “When she collapsed, they gave her a few days off, at least.”

  Myles watched them, the silence stretching out almost uncomfortably. “Maybe you should start from the beginning. How did you meet? How did you discover your telepathy? How and when were you taken? That sort of thing.”