Echo 8
Page 8
But he’d been given an order, and the director himself was coming to reinforce it.
Ross read the evaluations more carefully, jotting down notes on a legal pad. When he finished, he got up to pour another cup of coffee. His hand strayed to a bottle of wine resting next to the coffee maker.
“Make mine a double,” called Tess.
He grinned at her over his shoulder. “I made coffee. Do you want some?”
“Absolutely.” Her voice creaked with fatigue. “I’m going for a record.”
He walked back to the bed and set a steaming mug on the nightstand. “It’s been sitting awhile. But I think it will still work.”
“Thank you,” she said, sitting up and kicking off some of the covers. She still had on her basketball sneakers, same style as his, only red.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
She sank against the headboard. “Probably about the same as I look.” She wrapped both hands around the coffee mug. “I’m okay.”
“What happened earlier, with Jake … that was my fault.”
Tess frowned. “I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“He knew I was planning to leave.”
She gave an uneasy laugh. “And here I thought it was all about me. I thought he was trying to warn me. Prove to me he was dangerous.”
“It is all about you.” Ross chose his next words carefully. “He doesn’t want me to leave because he doesn’t want you to be without protection. He’s in love with you, Doctor.”
“He’s what?” Ross watched the color steal over her pale cheeks. She shook her head. “He only thinks he is. Because I’ve helped him.”
“Trust me. I’ve been in his head. Or he’s been in mine, anyway. ‘Love’ is putting it mildly.”
Tess swallowed and set down the mug. She fiddled with one of the blankets. “But you’re not, are you?”
Ross’s heart thudded. “I’m not…?”
“Leaving. I heard you tell him so.”
He let out his breath. “That’s right. My request was denied.”
“I see.” She gave him a tight smile. “I’m sorry.”
“I hope you understand—I was trying to do what was best for everyone. It was never about … it wasn’t you I was…” Shut up, asshole.
“It’s okay, Ross. There’s no need to discuss it. I’m glad you’re staying.”
He smiled at her, and he changed the subject, because he didn’t know what else to do. “There’s actually something else I’d like to talk to you about, if you feel up to it.”
“Of course.” She glanced at her watch. “I think at five we should go down to Jake, but that gives us half an hour.”
He retrieved the legal pad and sat down again in the armchair. “Can you read this and tell me what you make of it?”
She took the notepad and worked a blanket up around her shoulders. Her forehead creased, lips parting slightly, as she read the first page.
“What is this?” she asked, glancing at him.
“I copied it out of a Bureau personnel file. I’ll explain when you finish.”
He tried to relax while she read, propping his feet on the bed and resting his head against the back of the chair. Her sneaker grazed his as she crossed her ankles. He felt both soothed and unsettled by her presence, and that made no sense to him.
After a few minutes she said, “Who taught you longhand? A spider?”
He grinned. She grinned back, and some of the tension in his chest released.
“So, what this looks like to me is a researcher’s notes on a subject with strongly demonstrated precognitive ability.”
“Can you explain to me what that means? I mean, I know precognitive ability is the ability to predict things before they happen. I’m just wondering whether the person they’re describing is really any different from anyone else.”
“That’s a more perceptive question than you realize.” Tess sat up, folding her legs and angling toward him. “Psi phenomena aren’t phenomena at all. Psi, including precognition, is a fact of life. It’s part of the human experience and has been for centuries. We don’t think in terms of individuals with ‘special’ abilities anymore. Everyone is capable to some degree—scientists in my field almost universally believe this. But some access these abilities more successfully, more consistently, than others. Some suppress them, either consciously or subconsciously.”
“Why?”
“Why suppress them? There are a lot of reasons. Fear of the unknown. Cultural prejudices against the idea of psychic abilities. For some people, acceptance of psi wreaks havoc on their belief systems—dramatically alters the way they view the world, life and death, spirituality. It’s understandable. For others, it creates a feeling of being out of control.”
“I can see that.” He studied his folded hands, but felt her eyes on him.
“Can you?”
“Sure. I personally would like to believe I make decisions based on logic and experience, not on vague intuitions.”
“Ah, but you’re revealing a prejudice. Why isn’t precognition as valid a factor as logic, experience, intellect, or common sense in making a decision? Haven’t you ever had a ‘gut feeling’?”
“Of course. But again—based on experience and observation. It’s not the same.”
“Are you sure about that?” Her color rose as she grew more animated. “It’s a paradox, Ross.”
“What is?”
“The idea psi abilities cause a loss of control—it’s actually the opposite. If you sense you’re about to trip down the stairs and break your ankle, you can take the elevator instead, right?”
She had a point. But he replied, “Maybe I’d just trip on my shoelace and break my ankle anyway.”
Tess laughed—a long, genuine laugh. He couldn’t help feeling pleased that he’d caused it. “Okay,” she said, “you’re gonna have to buy me a drink if you want to talk about determinism.”
Ross thought he’d like nothing better than to go out for a drink, like two normal people. This is how it should have gone between them from the beginning. This is the conversation they should have had at the summit. He could admit now that he’d felt threatened by what she represented. He suspected that sentiment ran both ways.
“Actually I think it’s me who owes you a drink at this point,” she continued. “What do you say we take care of Jake, microwave the leftover pizza, and open that bottle?”
Why not? He had to somehow work up the nerve to tell her Director Garcia was coming from Washington with an agenda of his own.
“You’re on. But I’ll take care of Jake. You take care of the rest.”
Her expression registered surprise. “Are you sure?”
He wasn’t. But he knew if he didn’t do it, she would. “Yes.”
“With the glass between you,” she cautioned.
He nodded, rising from the chair. “I think he’ll be more in control if you aren’t there. I’ll be back. Text me if you need me.”
“I do,” she said, then laughed and turned red as her shoes as she corrected, “I mean I will.”
TRUTH AND CONSEQUENCE
* * *
TO: Echo Task Force
CC: Abigail Carmichael
FROM: Tess Caufield
SUBJECT: Urgent Update
CLASSIFICATION: Classified
Seattle Psi has succeeded in conducting a series of nonlethal transfers with Echo 8 (Jake Parker). Details are provided in the attached document. Be advised that transfers for depleted Echoes are still *extremely high risk.*
I’m working on a detailed report for the administration, which I will submit for your feedback and recommendations. Please contact me with any questions.
Tess Caufield
Precognitive Specialist
Seattle Psi Training Institute
* * *
WHEN ROSS left, Tess composed and sent her update to the task force. What she needed now was time to organize her thoughts for her report, but she didn’t know when she was
going to get it. Jake was turning into a full-time job. More than full-time. What would she do when it came time for bed—set an alarm to wake her every few hours?
But the truth was she never slept more than a few hours at a stretch anyway. Last night with Ross was the first time she’d slept a whole night through in as long as she could remember—though it hadn’t exactly been a natural sleep.
By the time Ross returned she had reheated the pizza and poured the wine. He helped her carry the plates and glasses to the sofa.
“How’d it go?” she asked.
“Fine. He’s stopped being such a prick. I think the last encounter wore him out.”
She nodded. “Honestly I suspect he’s bipolar. I wish I could do more to help him.”
“You’re doing a lot. He’s alive because of you.”
“I’m not sure he’s grateful for that.”
She lifted her glass for him to clink. “Thank you. For everything.”
“You’re welcome, Doctor.”
They ate their dinner in silence and slid the plates back onto the coffee table. She sank against the sofa with her glass. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure, go ahead.”
“The stuff you gave me to read earlier … that was about you, wasn’t it?”
He gave her a wry smile. “What makes you think so?”
“Just a hunch.” A good one, apparently. “Who sent you the file?”
“Director Garcia.”
“Have you always known? Or was the Bureau the first to talk to you about your abilities?”
Ross shrugged and settled back against the sofa. “My father always said I had good instincts. Those are an advantage in my line of work. You really can’t make field agent without them.”
“They’re an advantage in any line of work,” she said. “But from what I read of your file, your instincts are better than most people’s. Why do you think they’re sharing this with you now?”
He met her gaze. “They intend for me to train while I’m here. Garcia notified me today.”
She frowned. “Did he say why?”
“Not yet. I think it has something to do with the Echoes. He’s coming here to discuss it with us.”
“When?”
“I should know soon.”
Tess eyed him, uneasy. She didn’t like the idea of his agency getting more involved in their work. She knew full well she didn’t have any right to expect they wouldn’t. But the FBI viewed the Echoes as a threat to public safety. Ross’s superiors didn’t care that Jake and the others had once been human. What she and Jake had discovered could resolve all this—if she could make the administration listen to her. She was counting on Ross’s help for that.
“It’s interesting to me that you’ve used your ability without even being aware of it,” Tess said. “When I spoke earlier about suppression, I was talking about individuals who block or sabotage their abilities. Can you tell me about a hunch you’ve had since you’ve been here? Something that’s ended up happening?”
Ross stared at his glass, turning it in his hands. “I knew Jake would attack you when we went in there last night.”
“That’s right, you told me.”
“Anyone could have guessed that. It’s what they do.”
“True enough. But tell me more about your hunch. Was it just your sense of the danger of me going into a room with an Echo?”
He considered this, lifting his eyebrows after a moment. “I’d forgotten this until now, but I had a dream the night before.”
“About the attack?”
“Not really. It made no sense, like most dreams. You and I were arguing about something—I can’t remember what.”
“I’m sorry to inform you that was no dream. It really happened.”
The corners of his lips turned up. He had a boyish, charming smile that she hadn’t gotten to see often enough.
“We were sitting at a table in the cafeteria,” he continued, “and there was a plate between us. There was a donut on it—one of those powdered-sugar ones. I was trying to give it to you, and you wouldn’t take it.”
“That doesn’t sound very much like me.” She laughed. “What makes you think the dream was related to the attack?”
“You never touched the donut, but at one point you showed me your hands and there was powdered sugar all over them. Then you just disappeared.”
“Powdered sugar…” It tugged at her memory, but a couple moments passed before she figured out why. “You’re thinking of that white residue I touched on the floor, before Jake reappeared.”
Ross nodded. “After you disappeared I woke up in a panic. The dream made no sense to me, but the first thing I did was ask Abby whether she’d seen you. It could just be a coincidence, though, couldn’t it?”
“Absolutely. That’s why we conduct studies rather than relying on anecdotal evidence. But if you’ve had a lot of hunches play out in a similar way, I’d call that psi. Would you say you have?”
She lifted the wine bottle from the coffee table and refilled their glasses. Ross let out a sigh.
“Yeah, I would.”
“But you don’t always trust them. You didn’t forbid me from going into the lab.”
His jaw dropped as he turned to stare at her. “I absolutely did. You just told me why I was wrong and did it anyway. I’m pretty sure your special ability is always getting your way.”
She laughed so hard she had to set down her glass. He handed her his napkin so she could wipe wine from her chin.
“I’ve second-guessed myself a lot here,” he continued in a more sober tone. “It’s part of the reason I thought I should leave.”
“Calmer, nonemotional states are more conducive to success with psi. We’ve been under a lot of strain.”
She studied his profile. He was clearly uneasy about all this.
“Listen,” she said, “it doesn’t matter what you call it—precognition, good instincts, intuition—it’s part of you, and it’s a good thing. You’re lucky to have it. We can definitely help you enhance it. If you learn to use it more consistently, more confidently, it will help you in your job.”
“Well, it sounds like I’m not going to have any choice about that. We’ll see what the director says when he comes.” He set his glass down and angled toward her. “You told Jake this morning that your mother had psi ability.”
* * *
It didn’t occur to him that he was more buzzed than he should be off two glasses of wine until he watched Tess’s face fall and remembered this was something she didn’t like to discuss.
“Yes,” she said quietly, shifting her gaze to the coffee table. “Not as strong as yours I don’t think.”
“You were close to her?”
She gave a slow nod.
“Jake told me…” Bad idea, McGinnis.
“Jake told you what?”
Ross believed this discussion needed to happen. But he was keenly aware of the risk of mangling it.
“We had a strange conversation right before you came down the last time,” he began carefully. “He told me he’d learned some things about you—about both of us, actually—during the energy transfer. He was worried about something that had happened in your past. He was worried the risks you were taking had to do with whatever it was.”
She sank back against the couch, crossing her arms over her chest. “Are you sure this is your business, Ross?”
“I’m sure it’s not. But as the person assigned to keep you alive, it would help me to know whether…” He trailed off, feeling less and less sure of himself. “I know you carry a lot of pain, and not because I have psychic abilities. I doubt it will come as a shock to you that the Bureau has a file on you, and that I’ve read it. I know about your mother’s death. I know about the meds. I know you were hospitalized for depression when you were a teenager.”
Her voice trembled as she replied, “You may have been in my file, but that doesn’t make it okay for you to go fishing around in my head.”
“You’re right,” he said. “It’s not my business, and I’m sorry. Really all I need to say is this: If you push me to a choice between you and Jake again, Jake’s going to lose. What happened with him after lunch may have been a show, but he could have killed you. I won’t let it happen again. If you want to keep him alive, you need to place more value on your own life.”
* * *
As suddenly as the heat came it went, leaving her cold. She folded her hands over her shoulders and sank her face into her arms, shivering. She felt like the little girl with the dead mother. The girl whose father had just told her she was young and she’d forget.
She felt the sofa depress beside her as Ross sat down again, draping a blanket over her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, more softly this time. “Do you want me to leave?”
He reminded her of her father in many ways—self-assured and overbearing. Quick to judge others. But over the last twenty-four hours she’d come to believe that Ross had a heart.
And how was he to know about the thing in the well? He couldn’t, because no one did. Not the shrinks, not anyone. She had to find a way to quiet it, because this was one thing she knew she could not face. Not now, when she needed every particle of concentration to do her job and stay alive. Maybe not ever.
Breathing deeply, she let herself sink against his shoulder. Slowly his arm came around her. She felt his breath in her hair, and she listened to his heart.
There was something else about Ross. She felt safe when she was with him.
* * *
Tess fell asleep in Ross’s arms. He dozed for a while too but woke with a start as he remembered Jake. Glancing at his watch he saw it had been four hours since the last transfer.
She didn’t stir as he eased away from her, lowering her to the couch and covering her with blankets. He’d have been worried about her if he hadn’t just felt the slow, steady beat of her heart against his abdomen.
As he left the apartment the lights in the hallway came up automatically. He headed down and made his way to the lab. Jake met him at the window, scanning behind him for Tess.