by J. R. Rain
I could disappear whenever I wanted, if I ever needed to.
And I just might.
Someday.
But first and foremost, I wanted to find this girl, a girl whose situation was so similar to mine. Kidnapped...like me.
At a young age...like me.
An audial...like me.
Jesus, I thought, as I began pacing in my living room. The Pergo floor creaked. I had a slight buzz, yes, but that didn’t explain why I still hadn’t gotten a feel for the girl.
By now I would start “hearing” things. Whisperings, usually. Often from miles away, states away. Hell, countries away. And the more I “tuned in” to an individual, the more I could begin picking up whisperings, snatches of conversation.
But nothing. Not even a sigh.
Hope could possibly be putting up a shield around her, but she would have to be taught how to do that. I knew how to break through shields, and couldn’t fathom this was the case. Who would have taught her how to do it? I supposed it was possible that whoever had her could have taught her, but these things take time, and even as advanced as this girl appeared to be, I couldn’t imagine that she would have it down. I shook my head, trying to figure out why I had nothing. Then, cold dreaded fear traveled through me as a horrid thought crossed my mind—what if she was dead? No. I couldn’t believe that. I may not be getting anything at this point, but that also meant I was not getting the sense that she had passed.
What was this child’s life like before someone took her, and how did they know about her?
I thought about my childhood. My life had been anything but normal. Growing up with a government operative was one thing, but being groomed at such a young age was quite another. Especially when that operative created the very agency I worked for. I think because of me and my experience, the rules of using kids changed.
Yes, my father was the founder of PSI. A gifted audial himself, he and others like him such as Grant Simms soon saw the benefit of creating an agency around others like us.
Freaks like us.
The success of PSI was immediate and far-reaching. It got the attention of our enemies...which would lead to one hell of a bad night for me.
Perhaps the worst night of my life.
On that night I had lost everything and had gone from being an innocent little girl...to something else.
I continued pacing, reaching out with my mind, tuning in, listening, straining...but nothing.
I did hear, however, footsteps coming down the hallway just outside my apartment, followed by a gentle rap on my door.
Any agent worth their salt dreads this moment. Dreads the unexpected caller. Agents didn’t have unexpected callers. We had people show up with very bad intentions.
I had just made a move to retrieve the nearest pistol when a voice on the other side of the door said jovially, “It’s just me, Ky. For the love of God, put the gun away.”
It was, of course, Ayden Conners, our resident “seer.”
I opened the door and was not very surprised to see he was carrying with him a bottle of Pinot Noir, and sporting a mischievous grin. Before I could react, he kissed me on the cheek and stepped around me.
He motioned to the bottle on my counter. “I see you started without me.”
“Where is Noah?”
“Drinking, I suppose. Putting his own feelers out.” He went into the kitchen and found my wine opener. “And how are you doing with that?”
“No hits,” I said. “You really should have called—”
“And have you turn me down again, Miss Ky? I don’t think so.” He winked at me and twisted off the cork smoothly.
“None for me—”
“One for you? Gotcha.”
I shook my head and grinned as he fetched two clean glasses and filled them higher than I would have preferred. He handed me one and leaned a hip against the kitchen counter. We looked at each other for a few long heartbeats. I sipped lightly on the wine, even as Ayden drank his in bigger gulps. Finally, I said, “Are you having as much trouble getting a feel for her as I am?”
“I’m getting next to nothing, which is troubling.”
“Is that why you came here?” I asked.
“That, and I hoped to seduce you.”
I shook my head again. Truth was, I always enjoyed Ayden’s company. He and I had an almost spiritual connection. The chemistry was off the charts, so much so that it literally scared me. I could see us climbing into bed and not emerging for days or weeks, to the detriment of our jobs and our assignment. We weren’t horny teenagers, after all. We were agents with the federal government. Professionals at the top of our games. And... he wasn’t Noah.
But, Jesus...just for one night, I wanted...
I let the thought go. I had to. After all, we had a missing girl on our hands. A girl who could have been me.
“Let’s focus on the missing girl, Romeo.”
“There’s always someone missing, Ky. Always another assignment. We deserve one night alone. One night to ourselves.”
“Oh, and to do what?”
He leaned toward me and reached out and touched my upper arm. He slid his fingers down to my wrist. I shivered and very nearly gasped. “Talk, of course,” he said, and gave me a half grin.
“Uh huh,” I said, and stepped away. I took in a lot of air, forced myself to breathe normally, then said, “Except we both aren’t getting hits. What does it mean?”
“Hard to say. Maybe the information is vague—”
“Or not accurate.”
“What are you getting at, Ky?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “But something is...off.”
“Are you suggesting we were given false information?”
“No. Maybe.”
“Why would Grant give us false information?”
“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe his information is wrong.” But even as I said the words, they didn’t feel right. All PSI agents have a specialty, yes, but most of us have highly attuned secondary senses, too. My intuition, for instance, was often very, very accurate, and I’d learn to trust it. And my intuition was telling me now that we weren’t getting the full story.
Something suddenly became very obvious to me. We needed an article of clothing from the girl. Not to mention I wanted to talk to her mom.
“Finish your wine,” I said. “We have a job to do.”
“But what about our night alone...you know, just me and you?”
“Perhaps another day.”
“Really?”
“No. Get dressed, horn dog. We’ve got work to do.”
Chapter Eight
“Got your piece?” I asked as we made it down into the parking garage.
“What kind of agent do you think I am, Cain?” He smiled.
“An aggravating one.” I smiled and unlocked the driver’s side door of a 1979 Chevy truck—color green, I think, or at least was once. It’s now this mixture of rust and bad paint job.
“What in the hell?” Ayden asked. “Where and why did you get this POS? And I am not aggravating.”
“Hey now, Bessie has feelings. And, how about irritating?” I laughed.
“Bessie?” He raised his dark eyebrows. “I am ingratiating.”
“Get in and I’ll explain. And, I beg to differ some, but okay, maybe you are a tad ingratiating.”
“Can’t wait. This is certainly not your Audi R8. Glad you see things my way.”
“You are right about that, about the Audi at least,” I replied, putting the Chevy in reverse. “Seeing things your way…” I shrugged.
“You gonna give me the story here? The car?”
“So, you mean to tell me that you don’t have any back up vehicles?” I stopped before putting it into drive and reached my arm into the back, retrieving a couple of ball caps. “One for you and one for me.”
“Back up vehicles?”
“What kind of agent are you, Connors? Yeah. Back ups. You know, something so out of the norm from the day to day that you can
utilize the back ups to spy on those you’re closest to.”
“God, you are such a tease. Get to the chase.”
I put the truck in drive and eased out of the structure, headed to the 10 West. “Simms. He knows where Hope Mitchell’s mother is. He has her in a safe house, and why he’s being so um...vague and really not all that forthcoming regarding the mom, I figured I’d do my own reconnaissance. I may not have gotten anything from Hope yet, but I was able to tap into a conversation with Grant and Hope’s mom, whose name I have learned is not the name in that file. It’s not Katherine. It’s Stephanie.”
“What?”
I nodded. “I don’t understand the secrecy at all, but we are going to get to the bottom of it. Thankfully, Grant does not possess any of our gifts and sometimes that means we can work a little bit smarter. Simms is smart, but I think I may have outwitted him.”
Ayden rubbed his palms together. “Really now? He is a telepath. He also knows how to set up some serious energetic shields.”
“True. However, I know a secret about him. He can’t read audials like he can others. I also know that you are very adept at your own energetic shielding.”
“You know this because?”
I glanced over at him. “No, I have not tried to get into your psychic space if I can help it. But, remember when you were in a bit of trouble last year in South Africa?”
“Oh yeah—the diamond mines, and the greedy son-of-a-bitch who tried to kill me.”
“Yeah. I had a hard time finding you because of your shielding.”
“But you did.”
“I did.” I laughed. “I did. With Simms, if he is shielding us, and he can’t get past my walls, then you need to set up your own firewalls and we will have to tell Noah the same thing.”
Ayden shook his head. “I hate feeling like we can’t trust him.”
“How do you think I feel? He’s been like a father to me, but something doesn’t feel right about any of this and we all three have gotten the same feeling, so we need to trust that for now.”
“Right. Suggestions other than some good shielding?”
“Well, Simms is used to me not only seeing him as a boss, but also as a father figure, so I think he takes for granted that I might on occasion act like a rebellious teenager and do something that might upset him.” I held up my thumb and pointer finger and said, “Just a little bit.”
“You’re bad, Cain.”
“No. I’m human, and I know Simms is not being completely truthful with us. I knew it when we left his office today, and I also knew that he was likely going to contact Hope’s mother again. Tonight. Because, although he may take me for granted a little bit, he is not an idiot. And, if Hope’s mom knows something that he doesn’t want us to know, well, he will be schooling her on it, on the chance that he realizes we might try and get to her.”
“What did you do, Kylie?”
The 10 West turned into the PCH and we headed up deep into Malibu and up into Topanga Canyon. “I put a tracking device on Grant’s car earlier today, and if I am right, then he is at the safe house with Hope’s mom right now.”
“Thus, the POS.”
“Bessie. Yes, the truck makes a very good decoy. Would you ever believe that I would drive it?”
He shook his head vehemently. “Not in a million years.”
“Right, so we find the house. Wait for Grant to take leave, which should be by eight. He’s craving his scotch by now. Trust me on that. We will have to get past whoever he has standing post. That might prove difficult. We can go two ways—distraction, or barge in. Or, we could actually try a third method. Show our creds and face the consequences tomorrow in Grant’s office.” I made a turn off the highway that wound up into the mountain. “Your call, because from what I’m getting, it’s just half a mile up, and it’s a quarter to eight. “How do you want to play it, Connors?”
“I want to play you.”
“We are working.”
“Later?”
“Is that the best you have, big guy?” I said. “Would James Bond beg?”
“James Bond isn’t real.”
“James Bond has style. Real or not, he takes what he wants.”
“Is that a not-so-subtle hint?”
I looked at him and winked. “It’s a not-so-subtle hint that I’ll kick your ass if you try. And I would kick his imaginary ass too.”
Ayden grinned. “Sometimes, we all need an ass kicking.”
“Can it, Romeo. Now, are we going in commando style?”
“Don’t tease me.”
“Please. Or, are we going in on good faith that we will still have jobs tomorrow if we play nice? I am game either way.”
He thought about, then said. “I have an idea.”
Chapter Nine
It wasn’t much of an idea, but it would do.
We were waiting at the base of a winding road that led up to the safe house. I’d been to the safe house before. Hell, I had to use the safe house before. In less dangerous times, it had once been used for weddings, with its lush gardens and panoramic views of the Pacific Ocean. Now those lush gardens were routinely patrolled by agents with guns, and the only ones who enjoyed the views were those in hiding or on the run. Or both.
We were waiting in some shrubs. Just an abandoned beater vehicle not hurting anyone.
Of course, even an abandoned vehicle near the PSI safe house might cause some concern, and so we had backed deep into the scrub brush, crushing a handful of pathetic saplings in the process. We had a good shot of the road ahead. So far, no action.
“Kind of cozy,” said Ayden.
Admittedly, it was kind of cozy, except Ayden didn’t need to know that. Sure, my heart might be all over the place, but I certainly didn’t give anything away, if ever. If a guy was interested in me, he damned well better earn it, or hit the bricks.
“Just keep your eyes peeled—and if you make a reference to peeling off my clothes, I’m going to pop you in the nose.”
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Ky. We’re here on official business.”
“Unofficial,” I corrected. “Here he comes.”
“How do you know it’s him?”
“Trust me. The man never, ever misses his date with Scotch.”
“You know him well,” he said.
“As well as you could know a seasoned spy. I know some of his habits, yes.”
“He raised you, though. He is more than just a father figure. In a way, he was your father.”
I didn’t respond to that. I kept my eyes on the headlights winding down from the hillside estate that was mostly hidden from view from our vantage point. An ideal safe house, to be sure. Simms had always been there for me, yes, but I never thought of him as my father. Who could replace my father, a man who had loved me with all his heart, even if he thought it was okay to train his daughter for a life as a spy at a young age. My father’s love was real. Simms? Simms was a field tested, battle hardened agent who had seen too much and done too much and who, I suspected, had acted out of loyalty to my father and the agency. That Simms cared for me, I had no doubt. That Simms might mislead me, or not be forthcoming...
Well, I had no doubt about that, either.
The headlights briefly flashed in our direction. Ayden and I both instinctively ducked, although we were fairly certain we were well hidden. As Simms’ town car made its way toward us, driven, I saw, by his guardian’s usual bodyguard and driver, Hayes, I held my breath as it eased past us. I was about to let it out when the vehicle slowed, then came to a stop.
“Oh, shit,” said Ayden, reaching instinctively for his piece inside his jacket.
I shot my hand out and stopped him. “Are you crazy?”
Ayden realized what he was doing and paused. “Jesus, you’re right.”
Now the Town Car reversed and stopped in front of us. The dark passenger window rolled down, revealing Simms’ stoic face. “When you two are done playing games,” he said, his gravelly voice easily reaching us in
the quiet night. “Stephanie is waiting for you.”
He might have grinned as the window rolled back up. The Town Car moved forward again, and slipped away into the night.
Chapter Ten
“Oh, holy hell,” I said watching the backlights of the Town Car.
“No shit. We could’ve just pulled into the drive apparently—and in your Audi, no less. Not the uh...”
“Bessie.”
“Right. Not the Bessie.”
“Come on,” I said and started the hike up the drive. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
“I got an idea. First, he’s got the place bugged because he had a feeling you’d be calling. Looks like he knows you a little better than you know him, sweetheart.”
“Screw you and yeah, it’ll be bugged. I’d say let’s get her outside, but she’s likely wired, too. Simms is hiding something from us, Ayden. He’s probably schooled this lady on exactly what to say to us, so...”
“Ah, hold it, hold your horses! Now I know why you needed me to come with you.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. I didn’t invite you to my place, the wine, and all that. You showed up.”
“You invited me, Cain. I read it.”
“Wishful thinking.”
“Nah uh, you little audial, you. Dost thou forget my specialty? No, I am sure you do not. I read the here and now, sister, and you requested my presence, which I mistook as an invite to play house for the night with you. In reality, you needed me just in case the very thing that just happened, happened, or even if it didn’t. You need me to read the mom psychically and in the present, noting whatever flashes through her mind, which could be past—not my specialty though. That would be Noah’s, as you know, and I do find it interesting that you would not ask Prince Charming along for this ride.”
I punched his shoulder and, yes, I punched it hard. “Okay smarty mcfarty, what’s the plan, if I’m so easy to read?”