“It’s a safe bet,” Cyrus said flatly. “So I’ll ask you one more time: What in the hell is going on? I think I’ve earned the right to know.”
Chapter 17
Mayflower Lab Facility
Hennings, South Carolina
10:31 a.m.
Though she was seated on a stool, Gertrude leaned heavily against her cane while she struggled to regain her breath. The rapid pace she’d set in the rush to reach her lab was akin to a mad dash given her age, and she was feeling the effects. While she wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, it was a virtual certainty that William was behind it. The guards who had attacked them in the hall were veterans of the facility. Every one of them had been stationed there for at least the last nine months. For them to turn on her now seemed to be an impossibility. Each member of the facility’s security team had been hand selected for the assignment, and each possessed integrity that was beyond reproach. It was crucial, given the nature of her research.
It had to be William, she was certain of it. How he had managed it was another matter entirely. The facility and its staff had been equipped with all of the necessary countermeasures. Not that she ever expected to be protecting the project from her own grandson.
“Are you alright?” Cyrus asked. His concern for her wellbeing was plainly visible in his eyes.
The young man was another variable that Gertrude had been trying to qualify. There was something about him, but she had consistently failed to put her finger on the exact quality that brought about her concern. By all accounts he seemed perfect for the position. Over qualified, in fact. For a time, she’d attributed her concern to that over-qualification, but now the ‘disconnect’ had become painfully apparent. The way he handled the pair of armed assailants attempting to rob the market was one thing. However unlikely, that could be attributed to a fortunate confluence of opportunity and luck; not to mention, how he claimed to have worked with a high-profile client and had learned many things regarding protection. But the way he had disabled the pair of armed guards, Marines no less, outside of her lab? That was another matter. Lightning didn’t strike the same place twice, and no one was that lucky.
Still, she pushed those concerns aside for the moment. They had made it to the relative safety of her lab, but they were still cornered. The Mayflower Laboratory was located eight stories beneath the foundation of the city’s central post office. In here, they weren’t just cornered—they were cornered in a very deep dark hole.
“I’m alright,” she said in a voice that was so weak that she surprised even herself. “I just need a moment to catch my breath.”
But the look he was giving her indicated he was anything but convinced by her explanation. Plus, there was something more in his appraising stare; an unasked question of some kind that she was starting to dread.
“Okay, out with it,” she said with a flagging sense of patience. “Speak your mind.”
“I think it’s time you leveled with me,” he said without hesitation, and in a tone that no longer deferred to her as a superior. “Running into a pair of thugs at the corner store was odd, but easy enough to write off to chance. But now you have trained Marines gunning for you. That’s twice in twenty-four hours.”
Gertrude stared at Cyrus, unhappy with his tone but entirely unable to argue with his concerns. “Is there a question in there somewhere?” she asked, with no hint of amusement.
Shaking his head, Cyrus turned and walked away. There was clearly more to the young man than she had expected. Gertrude was suspicious of everyone and everything, so finding out that there was more to him didn’t shock so much as annoy her. Perhaps troubled was the better word, she realized. Whoever he was and whatever he was there to do, he had somehow managed to subvert Ashley’s attempts to Read him.
That, more than anything, made no sense. Ashley had never been wrong before, and she’d never met anyone who she couldn’t Read. Not unless they wore a neuro-dampener, of course. But Gertrude had developed that technology herself, and she knew with absolute certainty who had been equipped with one of the tiny devices. Each patch was no larger than the eraser at the end of a pencil, almost invisible unless you were looking for it, and they were foolproof—the only protection against Ashley’s ability to glean thoughts, or William’s ability to Push thoughts upon people.
That was it, Gertrude realized with absolute certainty. Though she didn’t know how, William had gained access to the facility and turned the security team against them. It should’ve been impossible since neuro-dampeners were standard issue to all members of the security team. They were required to wear the patch night and day as it was the only guaranteed way to safeguard their minds.
But somehow William had subverted the technology. That idea alone was nearly as terrifying as the six trained Marines who were waiting to kill her.
“Marines?” Gertrude said suddenly.
Cyrus turned to look at the old woman. He clearly didn’t understand the comment.
“You said Marines,” she clarified. “How did you know that our security team was comprised of Marines? They wore no designation beyond rank. There was nothing to tell you from which branch of the military they’d been recruited.”
“No trick there,” Cyrus said. “Marines have a way about them. They sort of carry themselves differently. I have some friends in Delta, too. They’re another distinctive bunch.”
He seemed eager to dismiss the line of questioning.
“You’re quite the enigma, Mister Cooper,” Gertrude said with a slight grin. “Just full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“All the same, I would appreciate it if you would fill me in on what’s going on here. Why are American soldiers trying to kill us? I can’t keep you safe if you don’t level with me.”
“That’s it, isn’t it? The explanation for your over qualification? You’re not my assistant at all. You’re here as some kind of bodyguard. Who sent you?”
The penetrating stare she received from Cyrus made it clear that his patience was running out far more quickly than hers.
“We can have that talk once we’re out of here,” he snapped. “Now spill it. What’s going on?”
Though it was the last thing Gertrude wanted to explain, she realized that her back was almost literally against the wall and Cyrus represented her only plausible hope of escape. He was smart, too. He wouldn’t settle for some watered down version of the truth. She would have to be honest and hope for the best. Besides, once they were clear of this mess, measures could be taken to insure that he never disclosed what she was about to share.
“Very well,” she agreed. “As you surmised, those men outside are not acting of their own volition. They are being manipulated by an outside influence.”
She levered herself up and into a standing position with the help of her cane, and crossed to a nearby station. There, she opened a cabinet door to reveal a small safe with a digital keypad. She entered the combination and swung the door open. Moving quickly inside the safe, she retrieved what she needed and closed the safe again before Cyrus had a chance to see inside. Turning around, she held out a small flat box about the size and shape of an old audio cassette.
Flipping open the lid, she showed Cyrus the inside. The box was lined in white felt but contained eight tiny round raised platforms. On top of each platform sat a small black patch just like the one she wore behind her ear.
“One of these is for you,” Gertrude explained. “It’s the final component of your security clearance package. You place this behind your ear. Once you do, you must never remove it. It’s our most vital and sensitive security precaution.”
She handed the case to Cyrus. “Take one and place it on the skin at the base of your skull directly behind one of your ears. It won’t hurt, and once it’s in place you’ll actually forget that it’s there.”
Cyrus took a long look at the box, and then moved his gaze to her. She could virtually see the wheels moving behind his eyes, but she didn’t understand what he was thi
nking.
Taking the box from her hand, Cyrus closed the lid with a solid, audible click. His eyes remained fixed on hers the entire time. Finally he took the entire case—all eight of the tiny patches included—and slipped them into a pocket inside his jacket.
“You don’t understand,” Gertrude snapped in ill temper. “You must apply the patch now. It’s a safety precaution.”
Pulling a second stool out from beneath the nearby counter, Cyrus sat down without reply.
“Cyrus,” Gertrude snapped. “You must do this now.”
“You can say it as many times as you like,” he said calmly. “But until you explain what that patch is and exactly what it does, I’m not touching it.
“You have a choice to make,” he continued. “Because I’m not doing anything until I get answers that satisfy me.”
An exasperated huff was the best Gertrude could offer in response. She wasn’t accustomed to conceding to the demands of others. But even as much as she found him insolent, she also knew he was her only chance at escape.
“You won’t find any satisfactory answers,” Gertrude said, lowering herself onto a stool beside Cyrus. “In all honesty, the truth is something you won’t be inclined to believe, even if I share it.”
“Share it,” he demanded. “Let me make up my own mind.”
Taking a moment to gather her thoughts, Gertrude decided that she was in a position with nothing to lose. “The man behind all of this is my grandson, William. He is manipulating the men charged with guarding this facility. By now, he will have full control of the complex. And now that he has taken control, I’m afraid I don’t see a way out.”
“There’s always a way out,” Cyrus said in a reassuring tone. “But the first step is to fully understand what we’re up against. You said that he was manipulating the security team? You’re talking blackmail, or some sort of coercion?”
“William is very unique,” Gertrude began. She was having trouble finding the word. Actually voicing them proved even more difficult. “William has an unusual ability. He can make people do things.”
Cyrus offered only a quizzical glare.
“Put crudely, his ability is mind control,” Gertrude responded in a grating voice. “He needs only focus on what he wants from another person and he can Push his thoughts into their minds.”
Cyrus laughed at first, but quickly realized she wasn’t joking.
“We refer to it as Pushing,” she explained. “He can literally influence the thoughts of others.”
Cyrus sat quietly for several minutes, obviously taking time to process the unexpected revelation.
“He just has to think it, and people will do what he wants them to?” Cyrus asked finally. “That’s incredible.”
“It’s not quite as simple as all that. It’s not as easy as a passing thought. Thank God, it actually requires a concerted effort on his part. Otherwise, he might go around influencing the actions of everyone near him.”
Her frustration and anger grew as the thoughts raced through her mind. “No, it’s not entirely that easy. He had to try to do it—make a very specific effort. But, that said, the difficult process unfortunately comes easy to him, and makes him dangerous.”
“No kidding,” Cyrus snapped. “As illustrated by the armed men outside the door waiting to kill us. Actually, that raises a good question. Why are they trying to kill us?”
Gertrude realized that she had grown suddenly very tired. Somehow explaining the gravity of their situation felt as though it had lifted some sort of psychological burden from her shoulders. With that, exhaustion was setting in.
Cyrus must have noticed this as well because he left her to collect her thoughts while he went to retrieve a pair of bottled waters from the refrigerator. When he returned, she explained how William’s ability hadn’t manifested until shortly after his eleventh birthday. At first his ability to influence others was minimal, and it had taken her some time to realize his potential. But by the time he reached the start of his teenage years, it was clear that his gift was going to be a problem. He had become quite adept at manipulating the people around him to get the things he wanted.
Gertrude had realized it to be a slippery slope, but one that she was ideally suited to help him navigate. Since her field of specialty was applied neuroscience, she was already one of the world’s foremost experts on the mind as well as the human brain. It hadn’t taken her long to locate the portions of his brain that gave him the unique ability; after that, she was able to design a tiny implant that could be inserted into an adjoining portion of his cerebral tissue. It had taken some time to get the software properly calibrated, but once both the software and hardware were complete, a tiny capsule was embedded into his brain tissue. It was no larger than a small wood splinter, but it proved to work perfectly. William’s ability to influence the thoughts and actions of others had been neutralized.
Though the procedure was a success, William’s reaction to it was anything but positive. He’d become dependent on his ability. It was a type of sixth sense—a living part of him that was suddenly stripped away. And while everything Gertrude had done was for his own good, it had taken years for William to finally adapt and realize that she had kept him from the destructive path his ability was leading him down. In time, he worked around his reliance on his ability. He also came to understand just how destructive his careless use of that ability had been.
“I don’t understand,” Cyrus interrupted. “You make it sound like William was doing well. Like he was a normal, functioning adult. But what I’m seeing here today seems anything but. What aren’t you telling me?”
“At some point William realized how to disable the implant,” Gertrude explained. “It was designed so I could modify the settings as needed. It was likely that some degree of fine-tuning would become necessary as he grew older and his brain moved through various stages of maturity.
“Somewhere along the line, he realized it was possible to interface with the implant. He found a way to access it and managed to shut it down. Since then, he’s been running unchecked. He’s become a danger to himself and everyone around him.”
“Why don’t you just reactivate the implant? Wouldn’t that take away his ability all over again?”
Gertrude suddenly found herself unable to meet Cyrus’s eye.
“What is it?” he pressed.
“I tried that; twice in fact. William killed both of the men I sent to deal with him.”
Cyrus nodded, seeming to understand the potential danger. “It’s funny,” he said in a faraway voice. “He seemed off, but not anything like the man you describe when I ran into him.”
Gertrude felt her heart catch in her throat. She struggled to catch her breath even as she stared at Cyrus through wide, unblinking eyes. “You’ve met William? What are you saying?”
Cyrus shrugged. “It was this morning when you sent me for coffee. He was at that little shop you like down on Fifth. I was walking out the door when I realized this long–haired, hippie-type was staring at me. It sort of set off alarms in my head after what happened yesterday, so I went over to see what his problem was. As soon as he took off his sunglasses and I saw his eyes, I knew he had to be related to Ashley. They have virtually identical eyes. It was odd.”
“What did he say to you?” she asked, fighting off a claustrophobic sense of panic.
“Not much,” Cyrus said when he thought about it. “It was more about what he didn’t say. He seemed really…I don’t know, off in some way—like the things that he wasn’t saying were dangerous. He had this really intense, driving focus that just sort of rubbed me the wrong way. I don’t know exactly how to describe it, but the way he met my eye struck me as violent. I’ve never seen someone look at me like that before.”
Releasing a stifled breath, Gertrude suddenly realized she was holding her hand in front of her mouth and striking a pose every bit as terrified as the way she was feeling. But when her rational mind kicked in once more, she noticed parts of the
story didn’t add up.
“That’s it?” she finally managed to ask. “Why didn’t he use his ability right then and there? It would’ve been so easy. You were coming back to the office and he knew it. You could’ve killed me and no one could’ve stopped you…”
Her eyes narrowed as she glared at Cyrus. “You said he seemed off when he looked at you? That you found him intense, but off-putting?” She slid off the stool and walked slowly around the lab as if her mind where somewhere else entirely. So much so, that she had left her cane still leaning against the counter when she began hobbling around.
“Is it possible?” Gertrude muttered to herself. “But…how?”
She turned quickly and looked back at Cyrus. “I think he tried to Push you but it didn’t work.” Even to herself the statement had a wavering sense of conviction. It had never happened before, and it felt odd to even suggest it.
Cyrus only shrugged. “Okay,” he said simply.
“You don’t understand,” she said. Her voice was growing more agitated. “In all of my testing, that’s never happened before. There’s never been a subject who William couldn’t Push.”
Cyrus said nothing. Clearly he didn’t understand the significance.
“Never!” Gertrude snapped.
The analytical portion of her brain was already spinning with questions and ideas. This offered an entirely new dimension to her research.
“Roll up your sleeve,” Gertrude demanded. “I need to draw a blood sample!”
Chapter 18
Mayflower Lab Facility
Hennings, South Carolina
10:48 a.m.
Gertrude sat at one of the counters on the far side of the lab running Cyrus’s blood sample through a series of processes that meant absolutely nothing to him. Moving closer to the lab’s main door, Cyrus listened to the faint buzzing sound that was coming from the other side. He glanced back at Gertrude, satisfied that she would remain distracted. So far she hadn’t realized that the security team was attempting to cut their way into the lab. From what he could tell, the sliding steel door was some variation on the old-fashioned blast doors that had been used in Cold War era bunkers. It was standing up to the security team’s attempts to gain access to the lab, but it wouldn’t last forever.
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