The Secret Gift

by Ian Somers

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I made a mistake when I time-scanned Zalech. I held the connection between us for far too long and I think I was in his mind – at one with him – for longer than was safe. I think my mind adopted a part of Zalech, and that he’s living on inside me …’

  ‘Nonsense! Do you honestly believe that he is alive inside you?’

  ‘No, not exactly. Not his conscious mind. I know that Zalech is dead. But my mind was infected by his personality in some way. I think a part of him was imprinted on me.’

  ‘What makes you think this?’

  ‘I’m not like I used to be, Hunter. I don’t feel emotions the way I once did.’

  ‘I think that’s a natural reaction for someone who’s been through as much as you have. You’ve lost many who you cared for, and your instincts are telling you not to feel for anyone, because you don’t want to experience loss again.’

  ‘It’s not only the isolation, though. I have vengeful thoughts. There’s a rage in me. It’s so strong that if I show the slightest hint of anger, it will all pour out and I’ll lose control of my senses and my powers, completely.’

  ‘Again, it’s natural for a young man to feel this way. We’re all angry about what happened, Bentley. You’re not alone in feeling this way. And it certainly does not seem to me that any sign of Edward Zalech is in you. I listen to you now, and I hear the same brave young man I once knew. The only difference now is that he has suffered loss and endured too much loneliness. There’s nothing of that monster in you. Clear your mind of all that horror and focus on the future, Bentley.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I was almost embarrassed to say. ‘Maybe you’re right.’

  ‘Of course I’m right,’ he almost shouted. ‘I’m always right. Don’t you remember?’

  ‘I don’t remember you being right all the time,’ I said. ‘I seem to remember that you play the odds too often.’

  ‘I’ll always be a gambler.’

  ‘Sounds to me like you’re gambling again. Have you been back working as an agent? Back to your exciting life?’

  ‘Back to the grindstone, yes. Been a bit lonely, if I’m to be honest.’ There was a sudden hollowness to his voice and he wouldn’t look me in the eye. He just stared out the back window at the trees bending in the bluster. Probably thinking back to that awful night when Zalech did so much damage to our lives. ‘No Farrier, no Romand, no Williams. Haven’t got many who I could say are on my side. A lot of those who I trained up with are either dead or have become civilised.’ He’d looked back at me when he said civilised.

  ‘You once told me that we – agents of the Guild – were destined for lonely lives.’

  ‘It’s true, is it not?’

  ‘Partly, I guess. I count myself lucky that I’m away from all that.’

  ‘Enjoy life while you can, that’s what Marie Canavan always says.’

  ‘She’s a clever lady,’ I replied. ‘You should take her advice and go live the normal life – or one that you can enjoy.’

  ‘I’d probably miss the action too much.’

  ‘Then you have no one to blame but yourself for the loneliness you feel. If you live by the sword, Hunter, that’s the way things go.’

  ‘It seems to me like you’ve lost your sense of adventure.’

  ‘Damn right I have. Can you blame me after everything that happened?’

  ‘You’ve got to make the decisions that seem right to you.’ He looked around the kitchen and nodded. ‘I suppose you could have done worse.’

  ‘I like this place. It’s quiet. Usually there are no surprises. I don’t have to get up at the crack of dawn. There’s a hot dinner in the evening. Warm bed at night.’ I brought him a cup of coffee, then took my own to the other side of the table and sat. ‘It’s a healthier life, Hunter.’

  ‘If you say so. Although you don’t look too healthy now that I can see your eyes up close. Looks like something is eating you from the inside out.’

  ‘Told you, I haven’t been right since I left the Guild. I’ll get over it in time.’ I took a sip from my coffee and leaned back in my chair. ‘Right, do you want to know more about what I’ve been up to? I’m sure you can put it in a dossier and give it to the Council.’

  ‘Honestly, no. I’d rather lick dog shit off a pavement than listen to you talk about yourself.’

  ‘You’re an arsehole, Hunter.’

  ‘Lighten up,’ he laughed. ‘Didn’t you miss my sense of humour?’

  ‘About as much as an ingrown toenail that I used to suffer with.’

  That brought a hearty laugh from the big Scot that I found infectious. I ended up laughing too, remembering the times when we joked and laughed even while facing peril.

  ‘All right,’ I finally said. ‘What’s this favour you’ve come to ask of me?’

  ‘Oh, that!’ There was a sudden flavour of enthusiasm in his voice. ‘I need the assistance of someone with a…’ he leaned over the table and narrowed his eyes, ‘very specific gift.’

  ‘Let me guess: It’s one of my gifts?’

  He pointed his cigar at me and winked. ‘Bingo.’

  ‘Hunter, I’m retired. I want no part in any investigation, adventure, assassination or abduction that you’re planning. Don’t even bother asking me.’

  ‘You haven’t even heard me out.’

  ‘You have until I finish my coffee.’

  ‘I best get right to it, then. One of our moles working in the police service in England – who’s been there for years and is always reliable – contacted the Guild after he came across some intriguing information. It seems some of his colleagues had been monitoring a man called Malcolm Wilson, who was working in the British Ministry of Finance. They believed Wilson was taking his work home with him.’

  ‘You mean they suspected him of stealing sensitive data?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with the Guild?’

  ‘I don’t know the exact details, but the police closed in Wilson with the intention of capturing and questioning him. This happened in Liverpool last week …’

  ‘And …?’

  ‘You didn’t hear about the terrorist attack in Liverpool?’

  ‘Hunter, look where I live. I watch TV once a month and don’t have internet access. The world could be at war right now and I wouldn’t know about it.’

  ‘Right, the cops tried to apprehend Wilson in Liverpool city centre, and then a massive explosion went off and he escaped.’

  ‘Was it a coincidence?’

  ‘We don’t know. Strangely, there has been very little information available on the blast that interrupted the cops that night. Interpol were then alerted, given Wilson’s description and so on, and word was put out across the wire. The Guild was monitoring the situation but weren’t convinced that it was gift related. One week later – yesterday – Wilson shows up again. Here in Ireland. He was spotted by an off-duty police officer at a bus station in Donegal. He followed Wilson to a hotel that’s way out on the north-west coast. The most secluded place imaginable.’

  ‘A good place to lie low.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Hunter said. ‘However, it seemed Wilson was out of luck. Five armed officers moved in on him yesterday afternoon. This is where the story gets interesting. The five cops go in, they have Wilson cornered in his hotel room, and it seems like his little escapade is at an end. Then, out of the blue, the most senior officer, Detective Michael Clarke, inexplicably turns his weapon on his colleagues. Blows their brains out before turning the gun on himself.’

  ‘He took his own life?’

  ‘He shot himself in the stomach. Wilson skipped away without a trace. An odd streak of luck, don’t you think?’

  ‘No luck involved,’ I said with a shake of my head. ‘I would guess that Wilson is a mind-switcher. Once he was cornered, he transported his mind into Clarke’s body, then shot the others, gave himself a not immediately life threatening gunshot wound, switched back into his own body and,’ I flutte
red my hands at Hunter, ‘walked straight out the door.’

  ‘My hypothesis precisely.’

  ‘Great minds think alike, Hunter,’ I toasted him with my cup of coffee. ‘Now, what’s all this got to do with me?’

  ‘I left out one piece of information.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘Detective Clarke didn’t die. He’s on death’s door, yes, but is still clinging to life at a hospital that is not too far from here. I want a time-scanner to go pay him a visit.’ He leaned forward and stared me right in the eye. ‘I want his past read.’

  ‘A pointless exercise,’ I replied instantly. ‘You already know what happened. Scanning back to the event won’t shed much light on the subject. Not enough to warrant such a risk.’

  ‘Wrong. You haven’t put as much thought into this as I have, Bentley. You see, if you scanned Clarke back to the event, you wouldn’t be reading his mind, you would be reading Wilson’s. And I would very much like to get inside that man’s mind.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘There are a number of reasons that I thought would be glaringly obvious.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘You may pick up his intentions to go to a specific place. I can then go to that location and capture him.’

  ‘That’s a long shot. What are the chances that he was thinking of a future destination in the middle of gunning down a bunch of cops?’

  ‘I think it’s possible. You could also get some sense of who he is working for.’

  ‘What makes you think he’s working for someone?’

  ‘He was stealing very valuable information, Bentley. My guess – actually it’s more than a guess – is that he was stealing for someone who was paying him a lot of money.’

  ‘This smells like the work of Paul Golding.’ I got up and started pacing about the kitchen. ‘It absolutely stinks of him. That rules me out. Listen, I hate Golding more than anyone, you know that, but I’m smart enough to know that fighting him, or even investigating him, can land you in hot water. Scalding water!’

  ‘Stop being so melodramatic.’ Hunter took a sip of coffee before continuing. ‘Personally, I don’t think it’s the work of Golding.’

  ‘You’re just saying that to get me on side.’

  ‘No, I’m not. Golding’s isn’t very active at the moment.’

  ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean? Golding Scientific is a massive corporation that is constantly active all over the world.’

  ‘The corporation’s legal activities are carrying on as normal, yes. The illegal side to Golding Scientific, though, is as quiet now as it’s been for twenty years.’

  ‘And why is that?’

  ‘He’s been relocating the sensitive sections of his operation. Remember we uncovered his base in Iceland? Yes, that lit a fire under his arse. Right now he doesn’t want to be drawing attention to it. He’s also very busy preparing, I would imagine.’

  ‘Preparing for what?’

  ‘War.’

  ‘What war?’

  ‘The Guild have made a decision to go all out to destroy Golding. They’ll be making their move soon. I’m sure Golding expects it.’

  ‘Why now?’

  ‘The Guild have been eager to do this for a very long time. The incident with Zalech, along with the discovery of the clothing that counters psychokinesis, has forced their hand. They have been carefully planning out their strategy for the last year and now they are gearing up for a major assault. The Council and Sterling have gone into hiding – this happens when we declare war – to protect them if things go bad.’

  ‘When will it happen?’

  ‘A month from now. Maybe two.’

  ‘I don’t want to know any more about this.’

  ‘You asked.’

  ‘No, you came here as a friend who needed a favour. You wanted me to read some dying cop’s mind and now we’re discussing a war that’s brewing. I don’t like the way this conversation is going, Hunter.’

  ‘Let’s get back to the matter at hand then, shall we? Now you know why I don’t suspect Golding. But if it isn’t Golding, who is it?’

  ‘Could be anyone,’ I said. ‘Could be some pariah state … mafia … tabloids …’

  ‘This Wilson guy is a damned good mind-switcher. He’s been well trained to use that gift. He’s also been working in a highly scrutinised area within the British government for three whole years. This guy didn’t lose his house on a card game and decide to do this to pay up some debts. He’s a spy, Bentley. A gifted spy. I need to know who he was gathering intelligence for. Because no mafia, red top or backward nation can train a mind-switcher. Anyone who has the smarts to train someone like Wilson and place him in the British Ministry of Finance is worthy of investigation.’

  ‘If I were to help – and I haven’t decided to do it yet – it would be for one day. No more than that. I scan Clarke, tell you what I saw, and that’s it, I’m out. I’ll have done you the favour I promised last year.’

  ‘That’s all I’m asking.’ He smiled a smile that I did not like. It was the kind of smile my dad showed when he was fishing and felt the first pull on the rod. ‘Just one day, Bentley. That’s all I ask.’

  ‘That’s all you’ll get.’

  ‘Are you up to it?’ he wondered. ‘You had some injuries when you left the Guild.’

  I knew he wasn’t asking about my physical injuries. He wanted to know if my sanity was holding together after losing my father.

  ‘I don’t sleep much, Hunter.’

  ‘I know that feeling. And you used to wonder why I drank whiskey every night.’

  ‘Does it help?’

  ‘Some nights it does. Some nights nothing helps. Some nights all you can think of is the past and the people – good and bad – who live in the past.’

  ‘I still have Ania Zalech’s face seared into my brain. And Romand’s …’ I finished my cup of coffee and let out a long sigh. I had been trying so hard to conquer all the loss and stress. Now I was being asked to return to the Guild. It was only one day, but I knew from experience that one day in the Guild can stay with you forever.

  ‘You’re finished your cup of coffee,’ Hunter pointed out, ‘and I’m finished giving you the short version of a long story. What say you?’

  ‘I’m still considering it.’

  ‘It’s a simple job, Bentley. We’ll be in and out of the hospital in fifteen minutes flat.’

  ‘Can you promise that no one else in the Guild will know I’m involved?’

  ‘I can assure you the Guild will not find out about this. No one will. It’ll be just you and me. Just like the good ol’ times.’

  ‘If anyone ever found out …’

  ‘Oh, come on! Would you listen to yourself. “If anyone ever found out.” What happened to the brave young man that I used to know?’

  ‘He died on a country road twelve months ago.’

  ‘That was Edward Zalech.’

  ‘He took part of me to the grave with him – the reckless and adventurous part. What remains is what you see. I’m just a normal person trying to live out a peaceful life.’

  ‘Whatever you say.’ Hunter dropped the cigar end into his cup, a dirty old habit of his, and leaned back in his chair. ‘Scan the cop for me. You can go back to peace and solitude after that.’

  ‘I’ll do it. You just remember this: I’ll be gone out of there like a bat out of hell if there is the merest hint of trouble.’

  ‘There won’t be any trouble.’

  ‘Official duty as an agent for the Guild means your life will be in constant danger – your words to me last year when we went to track down Sarah Fisher.’

  ‘That doesn’t apply in this instance.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  Hunter leaned forward and grinned. ‘Your involvement in this case isn’t official.’

  ‘You always have a smart answer, don’t you?’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  War Stories

  We spoke for a while longer bef
ore I went to my room to gather some warm clothes and my hiking boots. I knew from experience that investigations often involve sitting in a car for many hours. In winter that can become an uncomfortable business if you’re not correctly attired.

  I put on my heaviest woollen sweater, thermal socks and a fur-lined leather jacket. Then I grabbed my hiking boots from under the bed and sat before slipping my feet into them. I was already beginning to question my decision to accompany Hunter to the hospital. I was no longer an agent of the Guild. Only twelve months earlier I fled the organisation and swore never to return to it. What was I thinking? I was on the verge of madness because of my previous stint in the Guild and now I was going off on some crazy investigation with Hunter, of all people, without even considering the consequences. Could I be sure that this simple time-scan was safe? The search for Sarah Fisher had seemed a simple task with no obvious threats.

  I rubbed my chest as the familiar tide of anxiety crept up from the depths of my stomach. I heaved in breaths and hunched over, staring into the black holes of the empty boots. This was one of those moments. A crossroads in life. Safety lay on one side, danger and excitement lay opposite. I was reminded of the moment when my great friend and mentor Marcus Romand was urging me to leave the Golding Plaza hotel with him. This decision felt as important as the one I made that night.

  Then I wondered if this was really was a crossroads in life. Were there really two options and two outcomes? I had thrown caution to the wind and gone with Romand. It led me on a path of destruction, loss and violence. Along that road I had also forged the greatest friendships I had ever known, made countless discoveries about myself and the world, and had fallen in love. Perhaps the balance of stability and danger was level in both accompanying Hunter and remaining hidden to the world. Perhaps that same balance lies in every single decision a person makes.

  I sat up straight and took a deep breath to chase away the fear inside me. I then realised that I had been almost completely free of worry while I talked to Hunter about the investigation. In fact, I had felt full of life and excitement for the first time in many months. It was only when I was alone, and doubting myself, that the anxiety returned. It seemed a little danger chased the blues away. Perhaps I could do myself a big favour by accompanying Hunter for a few hours. Despite the danger that was involved, time-scanning the detective was a more appealing prospect than spending the following twenty-four hours moping around the cottage with no one to talk to except Nightshade.