Echo 8

by Sharon Lynn Fisher

  But Ross had been a field agent for ten years. Far from his rookie days, he was loyal to the Bureau and unfailingly professional. He could deal with one moody, sexy scientist.

  * * *

  For two days Tess holed up in her apartment on the third floor of the Seattle Psi building, a renovated circa-1900 elementary school. The abandoned Colman School had been slated for demolition ten years ago when the nonprofit Pacific Northwest Psi Foundation stepped in and converted it to a research and training facility, as well as onsite housing for scientists. Tess and Abby had offices on the second floor and apartments on the third. The first was reserved for meeting areas, a break room, and research space and equipment.

  Agent McGinnis had been given one of the apartments used by visiting researchers, and he was far too close. Tess knew when he was showering or shaving. Videoconferencing or talking on the phone. Entering or leaving the apartment. She knew he didn’t play loud music or watch TV. She heard him moving around at all hours and knew that like her he didn’t sleep more than a few hours at a time.

  She resented that she’d been forced to become so aware of him. But for now it was better than having to deal with him face-to-face. The loss of Professor Goff was a suffocating weight. Tess needed space to work through it, and she needed time to find her footing on her new assignment—without the interference of an outsider with an unknown agenda.

  Thankfully she had a lot of catching up to do. The first item on the agenda: acquiring the details of Goff’s death. Unfortunately that one proved easy to tick off, because the investigation ended at a file that had been sealed by SAS Special Projects, Britain’s counter-terrorism unit.

  We’ll let Agent McGinnis earn his keep on this one. She fired off an email asking him to throw his weight—and if possible, the Bureau’s—behind her request to unseal the file.

  After that she dove into a lifetime’s worth of reading on the Echo threat. McGinnis had gotten her access to the Bureau’s case files, and the University of Edinburgh, where Goff had worked as director of the Koestler Parapsychology Unit, had sent her his Echo Dossier, an electronic packet of research notes and video files. She was also playing catch-up on in-progress task force discussions. Grave as the situation that had led to this appointment was, it was impossible not to feel a little heady about working directly with world-renowned physicists, biologists, and psychologists.

  Tess had a long-enough task list to justify holing up for a week, even considering the fact that Abby had temporarily reassigned her Seattle Psi projects to other staff members. But on the morning of the third day, having exhausted her food stores and—more critical—her coffee supply, she was forced to head down to the center’s café for breakfast.

  She arrived at 7 A.M., hoping to avoid chitchat with her colleagues and intending to grab coffee and a bagel before heading back upstairs. But as she scanned her meal card for the sleepy barista, Agent McGinnis appeared before her.

  “Good morning, Doctor.”

  “Good morning.”

  He crossed to the dispenser for brewed coffee and picked up a mug. Tess seized the opportunity to escape.

  “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

  Damn. She froze in the doorway, taking a deep breath before turning. “Of course.”

  “Why don’t we sit outside so we won’t be interrupted?”

  So much for hopes of being rescued by a colleague.

  Tess followed him to the double doors that led out to a small patio with a cluster of tables and umbrellas. It was the first week of August, and so far this summer they’d had nothing but rain. But the sky was finally cloudless this morning, with the sun just peeking above the hill to the east.

  “Will you be warm enough?” he asked, holding the door for her. If nothing else he was considerate.

  She held the edges of her cardigan together with her free hand. “I’ll be fine.”

  The patio faced the grounds that had once been a playfield for the school, now a rhododendron garden with benches and graveled walks. She sipped her latte and breathed the fresh morning air. It felt good to be outside while the rest of the world was just waking up. Almost the rest of the world. She glanced at her companion.

  “I didn’t know you and Goff were so close, Doctor. I’m sorry for your loss.”

  Tess managed a polite smile. “Thank you.” No one but Abby would know. Goff had been more of a father to her than her real father, despite the long-distance working relationship. “What did you want to talk about, Agent McGinnis?”

  “I wanted to brief you on the measures we’ve taken to ensure your safety.” His long fingers pressed the sides of his mug, fingernails lining up in neat, clean rows. She curled her own fingers, with picked-ragged cuticles, into her palms.

  “Your building has minimal security,” he continued, “so I’ve called in agents from the Seattle Field Office to help me keep an eye on things. At least two of us will be on duty at all times. And you have my cell number—I’m here for you twenty-four-seven, Doctor. Call me about anything, anytime.”

  Tess lifted her eyes to his face and studied him more closely. He was as neat as his fingernails—clean-shaven, with short-cropped dark hair. The black suit deepened the overcast gray of his eyes. She’d never seen him in anything else, and she wondered if he wore it every day.

  “Do you have questions for me?” he asked.

  “I’ve been wondering what I’m supposed to do with you, Agent McGinnis.”

  He squinted a little and picked up his cup. “I’m not sure how to answer that.”

  “You said you’re here to protect me. Are you going to follow me around?”

  He smiled. “You’re direct, aren’t you?”

  “It saves time. I’m busy. I work better with people who are direct with me.”

  “Noted,” he said with a nod. “I’m afraid the answer is yes. We will be monitoring you, as unobtrusively as possible. In fact we have been already—I have an agent walking the upper floors day and night.”

  Tess raised her eyebrows. She really had been buried in her work. How had she failed to notice strangers pacing the creaky hallways?

  “I’d also ask that you pay more attention than you normally do to your surroundings,” he continued. “The fade that killed—”

  “I’d prefer not to refer to them that way, if you don’t mind. They’re people. What’s happened to them is not their fault.”

  McGinnis considered this, tapping the side of his cup. “As I understand, we don’t really know why it’s happening, do we, Doctor?”

  “That’s true,” she conceded. “But I think it’s dangerous to dehumanize them.”

  “That wasn’t my intention. If you’re more comfortable with the term ‘Echo,’ I’ll use that.” He sipped his coffee. “I’m sure you’re aware the Echo that killed that French biophysicist two weeks ago appeared not five feet in front of him. The man never had a chance. I can’t save you from that, so I need you to stay sharp. If anything odd or unexpected happens, even if it’s just a funny feeling, like someone watching you, drop what you’re doing and find me.”

  Tess suppressed a smile. One of her ongoing projects at the institute involved helping research subjects sharpen their precognitive skills. She’d become an expert on “funny feelings”—which McGinnis had made clear during their first meeting he didn’t believe in.

  But she let it pass. “I understand.”

  “Do you have any experience with firearms?”

  Her stomach clenched as she anticipated what was coming next. “I don’t like guns.”

  “It’s something we might want to consider.”

  “I don’t see the point. When they’re hungry, bullets are useless. Energy depletion affects their mass, so—”

  “I’m aware, Dr. Caufield.” There was a bite in his reply. She watched his features smooth, and his tone evened out as he continued. “But we’ve observed that some are more aggressive than others. Some will feed even when they don’t need to. At those times they’r
e vulnerable, and a gun could save you.”

  Tess shook her head. “I have no training. I’ve never even held a gun.”

  “That’s easily remedied.”

  “Agent McGinnis, I don’t want to shoot anyone. You’re aware I was assisting Goff. He nominated me for the task force so we could collaborate more directly. I have every intention of going on with the work he was doing. I can’t do that until I have a subject to study. If one lands in my lap, the last thing I want is to shoot him.”

  “I’m afraid that won’t be your call to make, Doctor. I have orders to keep you alive.”

  Tess clenched her teeth. Arguing with him was the least productive thing she could do. But she couldn’t get past resenting the fact they hadn’t consulted her about sending him.

  “I understand you have your orders,” she conceded. “But I assume you have no authority to force me to carry a gun.”

  “I don’t.”

  Relaxing at this confirmation, she continued. “I hear what you’re saying, and you’re right that there is some evidence Echoes are drawn to task force members. Do you suppose we could compromise? Some nonlethal device?”

  His frown deepened as he considered. “We haven’t tested electroshock devices against Echoes. But it’s better than nothing.”

  Tess nodded and rose from the table. “All right. If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do.”

  “There’s one more thing, Doctor. Please.” He gestured to the chair, and all the blood rushed to her face as she sat back down. Professional courtesy was important to her, but she didn’t want him getting the idea he could order her around.

  “You should know that the Bureau wasn’t entirely on board with the research Goff was doing.” Ah, here it comes. “Don’t misunderstand. Everyone had tremendous respect for what he accomplished. For what he was able to learn about them before he died. But the Bureau is most concerned with mitigating the threat.”

  “Are you here to tell me how to conduct my research, Agent McGinnis?”

  “Doctor, try to—”

  “Yes or no?”

  The agent’s lips pressed into a hard line. His gaze shifted to the playfield. She could see the artery in his throat pulsing.

  “I’m not a scientist. The White House has tapped your expertise, not mine. But the Bureau is taking the lead in managing this crisis, and they do expect us to work together. As for Goff’s research, obviously we have no authority over how other countries choose to oversee the efforts of their task force members.”

  If nothing else, she had to admire his ability to evade a direct question. But the answer was clear enough.

  * * *

  Over the next few days Tess found it easy to return to the policy she’d adopted in D.C.—focus on the task at hand; avoid her new shadow. She didn’t have cycles to spare on him.

  As long as he stuck to his job and stayed out of her way, they’d get along fine. But the last words he’d said to her never completely left her thoughts: “They do expect us to work together.” It was only a matter of time before their interests collided again.

  But for the moment she was still playing catch-up. The other task force members from the life sciences had been happy to help her get up to speed. She was not all that surprised to find that, in true academic fashion—and in spite of the task force’s stated purpose of cross-discipline collaboration—cliques had formed. Her life sciences colleagues, like herself, had been focusing on understanding the Echoes, and she got the sense their work was considered low priority—unlikely to bear fruit that would help resolve the crisis.

  The physicists and cosmologists were focused on discovering the cause of the dimensional dislocations in hopes of shutting it off, and their work seemed to be most in the spotlight. They spent a lot of time debating which of the various theories regarding multiverses had been validated by the appearance of the alternate-Earth visitors.

  The investigative experts had thrown all their resources at finding better ways to track Echoes. No one had any clear idea of how many were at large. The reports of mysterious deaths were edging up, but thanks to next year’s U.S. presidential election and the water riots in the developing world, big media hadn’t taken notice yet.

  Tess wasn’t political—that was Abby’s job as director—but she knew the upcoming election was likely a major factor in the Bureau feeling pressured to get a handle on the Echo crisis as quickly and quietly as possible.

  As the only parapsychologist on the task force, Tess struggled to find her place, especially after the loss of Goff. Welcoming as her new colleagues had been, she knew that many of them were politely masking the same prejudices McGinnis had revealed at the summit. For some people it didn’t matter how many dramatic results you dumped in their laps—they simply felt too threatened to see it.

  The end of the week rolled around without Tess even noticing. On Friday after the close of business, desperate for something with sugar in it, she headed down to pilfer from the kitchen. The café was run by a contractor, and the residents were supposed to stay out after it closed. Occasionally someone broke the rules and a memo would circulate, reminding the staff that the contents of the kitchen were not institute property. Tess had been one of the more persistent offenders.

  She’d just poured a glass of orange juice when she heard dress shoes tapping on the hardwood floor.

  “I’m afraid I’ll have to report that.”

  Her heart jumped, and she turned to find Agent McGinnis frowning at her from the other side of the counter. “Unless you’re prepared to share.”

  Tess suppressed a smile and got down another glass, carrying both over to the counter. “I should warn you that our deviant behavior is sure to be the subject of a sternly worded memo.”

  “Well, if they try to prosecute, you can blame me. I’ll take the rap.”

  She held up her glass. “Honor among thieves?”

  He clinked his against it. “Hardly. I’m trying to make you like me.”

  Tess chuckled, sipping her juice to cover the blush that had taken her by surprise. “I didn’t realize it was—”

  She broke off as she heard a rattling noise in the lobby, just on the other side of the wall from the kitchen.

  McGinnis glanced at the café entrance, and the sound came again. “Someone’s trying to open the front door.”

  Tess slipped from behind the counter, but he caught hold of her arm. “Wait, Doctor.”

  “Don’t!” she protested, tugging her arm back. The sudden contact had jolted her, but the extremity of her reaction surprised her.

  He let go and held up his hand. “Wait here until I see who it is.”

  “It’s just the delivery guy,” she said. “They forget to use the buzzer after hours.”

  “Doctor—”

  She slipped away from him, trying to shake off both the man and the way he made her feel.

  She grasped the bolt and slid it free—and gave a surprised cry as whoever was on the other side shoved the door open, hard. McGinnis grabbed Tess around the waist and dragged her away.

  A shadow stumbled through the door. Not a shadow—an Echo stood gawking in the low-lit lobby, shoulders hunched, eyes raking slowly over the stairway and sparse furnishings.

  “Head for the stairs,” McGinnis hissed, drawing his sidearm. “Go up and get behind a door that locks.”

  Tess’s heart pounded as he edged her toward the stairway. “We need to get him to the lab.”

  “Doctor, upstairs!”

  She was scared—every bit as scared as the agent clearly thought she should be. But she had not joined the task force to run away at the first opportunity to make a real contribution.

  “If we lose him he’ll just end up hurting people,” she reminded him. “You know you can’t shoot him while he’s half faded. Let me try.”

  McGinnis hesitated, gaze riveted to the visitor, who stood quiet and bemused in the entryway. Finally he let go of her, saying, “Stay close to me.”

  Tess took a
couple steps toward the Echo, and McGinnis followed.

  “Hey, you okay?” she asked.

  The bearded man seemed to notice her for the first time. She watched his confusion and distress evolve into something else. He took a step, reaching for her, but she staggered backward.

  “You can’t touch me, okay?” she warned. “It’s dangerous.”

  The agent’s arm shot around her waist again, and he pulled her against him as he moved toward the corridor behind them.

  “We want to help you,” Tess called. “Follow me, okay?”

  Tess and the agent backed across the floor, the Echo following, and together they slow-danced toward the lab where the scientists ran their experiments.

  “What’s wrong with me?” the visitor asked. His voice had a subterranean quality, like it was rising up out of a well.

  “I can explain, but we need to get you someplace safe first.”

  “Am I … are you … real?”

  “Yes, I’m real. So are you.”

  “I’m so tired. I’ve got this strange, sort of aching … itch. I need…”

  He took a couple quick steps, reaching for her again, and McGinnis forced her to the floor. “Stop!” the agent ordered. “You can’t touch her.” He shoved open the lab door on his left. “You can rest in here.”

  One of the other agents—Perez—had appeared in the corridor and stood with her pistol at the ready. But she was as helpless as they were. All of them were at the Echo’s mercy. It was up to him whether this worked or not.

  The bearded man stared into the lab.

  “It’s okay,” urged Tess, rising to her feet. He blinked at her, bewildered. “You’re going to be okay.”

  He walked into the lab, and McGinnis closed the door behind him, locking it with a click. Through the window in the door she saw the Echo turn, startled.

  Tess punched the intercom button beside the door. “The lock’s just a precaution. Don’t be afraid.”