by Anise Eden
I was about to object when we heard Ben speak.
“It’s a little hard to be intimidated by someone who crashed out of boot camp.”
It was his angry voice. His injured voice. His working-hard-to-stay-in-control voice. But it was his voice, crackling over the radio. A rush of lifeblood pumped into my heart.
“For your information, I didn’t crash out,” a thin, reedy voice said. I recognized it as the voice of one of the men who had kidnapped Ben. “I decided to leave all on my own, once I found out all you military types are just a bunch of pricks!”
“I’m sure that’s exactly how it happened,” Ben said dryly.
“Son of a—” We heard something that sounded like an empty metal container being kicked across a hard floor. “You know what? I don’t give a damn what you think!” The reedy voice reached a high pitch. “Say what you want! I’m in charge, now!”
“You keep letting him change the subject,” Harris said. I recognized his voice at once—soft but clear, and given the situation, infuriatingly unconcerned. “Would you like me to take over?”
“No! No. I got this,” Reedy said. “Now tell us the goddamned secret to the double kheir so we can beat you to death and throw you in the creek for the crabs to eat!”
“Tempting,” Ben replied.
“Jesus Christ, can I please cut this guy loose and let him take a swing at me? All I need is one excuse—”
“Why are you letting him wind you up?” Harris asked. “Look, Ben, we already know that you’re the key to making the double kheir work.”
“And you know that, how?” Ben asked.
“Because we have people everywhere—including at the Smithsonian. For example, Dr. Morgan, the head of your mother’s research team, is married to Senator Johnson, one of our owners. She’s a big supporter of Team Forward, so it’s been handy having her in charge of the double kheir project, where she can control what information gets shared with other research institutions, and what stays quiet. Needless to say, she’s been keeping us updated on the MacGregor Group’s activities, including your little meeting with them last Saturday. Good job blocking our bugs in the conference room during your call with the Smithsonian, by the way. Didn’t do you much good, though; Dr. Morgan filled us in.”
Asa and I looked at each other, wide-eyed.
“Holy hell,” he whispered. “Dr. Morgan?”
“Oh my god,” I murmured. So they knew everything. They had just been playing with us all week—and it was Ben they wanted, not me. I felt the blood draining from my face.
Pete held up a hand to silence us as he squinted at the radio.
“Then what you know,” Ben said, “is that we had a couple of rituals that were unusually effective. That’s it. We have no idea if we actually activated the double kheir, or if we did, how. So you’re wasting your time, and what’s worse, you’re wasting mine.”
“What the fuck?” Reedy sounded even more annoyed.
“Shut up,” Harris snarled in a menacing tone I’d never heard him use before. “We know that Cate said the double kheir started working for her only when you joined the circle, and we heard about Eve’s heart chakra charging theory. The researchers at the Smithsonian were sufficiently impressed that they want to bring you in for more experiments. But even Dr. Morgan has to follow meticulous scientific protocols, so it could be years before they reach any conclusions, and we don’t have that kind of time. Meanwhile, you claim you don’t have any special gifts, but that’s obviously not the case. Unless, of course, Cate was lying. Should we bring her down here and ask her?”
I seethed. They were trying to use me to get to him. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to transmit my feelings through the portal to Ben, even though I knew the flow of emotion only went one way—from him to me. I’m fine, Ben, I thought at him. I’m with Pete. Don’t let them use me against you. But I knew that might be too much to ask. The last time he’d seen me was on the boat. Ben had no way of knowing what had happened to me after that.
When he spoke again, Ben’s voice sliced through the air like an icy blade. “Nice try. But if you had permission to kidnap her, too, you would have brought us here together. I don’t know who’s calling the shots here, Harris, but my money’s on Tucker, and I’m certain he’s clear on what the consequences will be if any harm comes to Cate.”
“Ooo, scary!” Reedy guffawed. “So what if we don’t have your girl to use as leverage? We still have you—and permission to use any means necessary to make you talk.” There was a sharp slapping sound, like a fist punching the palm of a hand. “Unless you just want to tell us what we want to know, that is.”
“He’s really bad at this,” Ben said.
“You’re telling me,” Harris said. “It’s like watching a B movie.”
Reedy yelled, “Hey! He’s the one going all Liam Neeson with threats about consequences!”
“I was just stating a fact,” Ben said.
“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do?” Reedy taunted. “You’re tied to a chair, you stupid son of a bitch!”
“Quiet!” Harris shouted. Reedy mumbled something under his breath.
“I don’t get it, Harris,” Ben said. “If you think I know something I’m not telling you, why not just bring your telepath, Michael, down here?”
Softly, Harris spoke again. “You know how these ‘sensitives’ are. They don’t have the stomach for this kind of thing. Bertie practically had to talk Michael off of a ledge after he shot you; he didn’t know a paintball could really hurt anyone. As a rule, we give Team Forward the minimal amount of information they need to do their jobs.”
“What was that about, anyway?” Ben asked. “The paintball, the medics. We thought you were trying to get Cate alone.”
“Well, that would have been a secondary benefit,” Harris said. “But primarily, the medics were planning to give you a brain scan, take some blood and tissue samples, things of that nature. Hencock thought you might have some unique physical trait that makes you the key to the double kheir. If that were true, and we had been able to isolate that trait, we could’ve avoided this little intervention. But you didn’t play along. It’s just as well; I didn’t think that approach was going to work anyway.”
“And when you drugged me—the first time, with the ginger ale?”
“Oh, that. Skeet just wanted to ask Cate a few questions,” Harris said. “He was sure that without you hovering, he could get her to tell him what she knew about how you worked as the key. Skeet figured with some GHB in your system, you’d just get tired and go to bed. Best case scenario, Cate would get worried and make you see our medics. Then we could’ve taken care of that part of the plan right out of the gate. I thought Skeet’s approach was ham-fisted. After all, it depended on both of you trusting him. I told him that between an empath and a Marine, at least one of you was likely to catch on pretty quickly that something wasn’t right. But he insisted on giving it a try.”
We heard Reedy mutter something again, and Harris hissed, “Shut up, damn it!” Then he spoke solicitously. “All we want to know is how you activate the double kheir. It’s that simple. So you tell me, Ben. What’s it going to take for you to tell us?”
Another moment of silence. “A fair exchange of information—and since I don’t trust you, I want to ask my questions first,” Ben said. “There’s no reason why you should object to that. After all, you’re holding all the cards. As your crack assistant here pointed out, I’m the one tied to a chair in this rickety shed of yours. What is it, an old mechanic’s garage?”
Pete picked up his cell phone. “Max, you hearin’ this? Rickety shed, old mechanic’s garage, sounds like a concrete floor. Corrugated tin, the way the sound echoes. Okay.”
So Max was out there, too, looking for Ben. I whispered, “How many people are helping?”
Pete counted off on his fingers. “Max, Lonzie, and Clayton, a whole slew of watermen searchin’ the Bay and the creeks. And some reinforcements are comin’.”
My
heart fluttered. “Reinforcements?”
Pete held his finger up to his lips. Harris was laughing. “I don’t know who you think you’re feeding information to. You’re phone’s turned off, and the GPS is disabled. I’m hoping to pull some good information off of there later, by the way. But let’s be clear: no one can hear you out here but us.”
“That’s what he thinks,” Pete said with a wry half-smile.
Ben was quiet for a long moment. Finally, Harris said, “All right, look. I’ll answer your questions. Although with all of the research you’ve been doing on Mercier, I’m not sure what else I can tell you. Oh yes, we know you’ve had your friend Max sniffing around for you. After one of our drones followed you to his house, we started monitoring his activities. I want your word, though, that after I answer your questions, you’ll answer mine. If you don’t, I reserve the right to let my assistant here do what he wants to you.”
“Fine,” Ben said. “You have my word.”
“Good. Go watch the door,” Harris said. We heard footsteps walking away from Ben. “Ask away.”
“You’re right; we did some research, so I know the basics. Mercier’s founders, you all went to college together, part of a secret fraternity. Some of you decided to stay in D.C. and what, run the world? Which you’re close to doing, it sounds like, with your people high up in important places—the House and Senate, ties with the military and security forces, connections with various global power players. Right so far?”
“So far, yes.” Harris sounded mildly amused. “Please continue.”
“But at some point, you realized Joe and Skeet had the golden goose. They’d developed a unique product—something no one else could offer, something that could give its users an unprecedented edge over their competition. They found a way to use paranormal gifts to deliver intel on a reliable basis—intel that could be obtained in no other way. Who could turn that down? And clients could pay for it securely, privately. No one would ever have to know how exactly they were getting their information.”
“So what’s your question? It sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”
“Most of it—except for the end game.” I could hear in Ben’s voice that he was fighting pain and fatigue. My fists tightened until my nails dug into my palms. “It can’t just be money and influence. You already had that. And with Team Forward, you could be risking everything. Your involvement with Opretec, for example. They’re mining uranium, taking it home, refining it into weapons-grade, and none of you bats an eyelash. But if the wrong people find out you have clients like that, you could all get thrown in jail, or worse.”
Pete, Asa, and I all leaned in closer to the radio.
“Ben, I’m surprised at you, buying into such slander. Opretec is a well-regarded company with a spotless reputation.” Harris’s faux indignation transmitted clearly over the radio. “But even if it weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. Things like countries, borders, and national loyalty—they’ve all been rendered meaningless. Your cell phone was made in China with materials mined from Africa and sold to you by an American company that just moved its headquarters to Denmark. Multinational corporations and the people whose wealth is behind them—they’re the ones really running the show today, not governments. We would be foolish not to form relationships with those ‘shadow rulers,’ no matter whose national interest they’re serving this week.”
“You’re describing an international oligarchy.”
“It’s inevitable. That’s what we’re moving toward—rule by the few. And the few will decide what happens when the big global economic collapse comes—and make no mistake, it’s coming,” Harris said. “Now, we at Mercier—we’re realists. None of us are members of the global elite. But the next best thing is to being a member of the elite is to be indispensible to them. And that’s exactly what Team Forward is allowing us to do—make ourselves indispensible. Then, no matter what happens in the future, we’ll be taken care of. Security in an insecure world.”
“And if Opretec makes a nuclear missile, and it falls into the wrong hands—gets dropped on Hencock’s house in Arlington, for example?”
“Well, that would be a great tragedy,” Harris said with all the sincerity of a snake oil salesman. “But Opretec would have given us plenty of advance warning, and we would have moved our whole operation to a safe location well ahead of time.”
“So all of that destruction, all of those lives lost—no skin off your nose.”
“You make us sound like madmen,” Harris said defensively. “We’re just pragmatists. Of course we’d regret collateral damage, but as you well know, people die in war—and the world is in a constant state of war. Now more than ever, it’s important to be connected to the right people so we can look out for our own and protect the ones we love. Cigarette?” There was a pause. “Suit yourself.” We heard the soft whoosh of a match being lit. “Look, I know our philosophy, our methods—they might take some getting used to. But as someone who has people depending on you, I thought you’d understand the sentiment behind what we’re doing. Any other burning questions?”
“Well, Skeet did say something that didn’t scan for me,” Ben said. “He said they’re consolidating paranormal talent here by attracting sensitives to NIMH. But I find it hard to believe that so many sensitives from all over the world would be willing to leave their homes and come work for the U.S. government. After all, some people do still care about national loyalty—not to mention staying near their friends and family.”
“Oh, right,” Harris chuckled. “Yeah, Skeet actually believes that he’s something like 90% successful as a recruiter. The truth is, if he tries to recruit someone and it becomes clear that he’s going to fail, we simply make sure that person disappears, or has a tragic accident. One of Mercier’s owners operates a private security firm with offices all over the globe; they take care of those things. After all, we can’t have competitors cropping up all over the place.” We heard him take another puff of his cigarette. “It’s a dangerous world out there.”
I covered my mouth to silence a gasp. They were actually killing sensitives to get rid of Team Forward’s competition?
Asa, Pete, and I exchanged wide-eyed looks. Then Asa whispered what we all were thinking. “Eve’s vision—the rivers running red with blood.”
“Bastards,” Pete growled.
My stomach lurched as I thought of all the sensitives who might have been murdered, just because they didn’t want to come to Washington and work for Skeet. I closed my eyes and tried to breathe as nausea threatened to overtake me.
Pete squeezed my arm. I looked up and met his eyes, which were even steelier than usual. “We’ll get ’em,” he said in a tone that left no doubt. I nodded and took a deep breath as he turned back to the radio.
“Skeet really doesn’t know the truth?” Ben asked.
“He’s mastered the art of denial,” Harris replied, “which is fine with the rest of us. He has his uses, but in this area, he’s never had the stomach to do what needs to be done.”
“Like with Joe?” Ben asked. “Cate bought the hunting accident story, and I’m glad she did, for her sake. But if I don’t buy it, do you really think Skeet does?”
“I think deep down in his subconscious somewhere, he knows. But his conscious mind bought the story. I don’t think he has enough steel in his spine to face the truth.”
“Which is?”
“Well, since you’re not going to remember any of this, anyway…” We heard Harris draw in, then blow out a long drag of his cigarette. “We all started college as patriots; that’s only appropriate when you’re young. But Joe, he never outgrew that phase. He saw what was happening in the world, just like the rest of us did. But he couldn’t let go of the notion that we should try to fight it somehow, take back our democracy, that kind of thing.” Harris’s tone was mocking. “Since he was relatively harmless and good at what he did, we humored him. Joe and Skeet worked out a division of labor at NIMH. That worked for a long time, everyb
ody giving each other space. But a few years ago, Skeet formed Team Forward, and they started taking clients. Skeet asked the sensitives not to say anything to Joe, but they’d known him for years. After a while, a few of them confided in him about some of their less savory clients. They were troubled by the intel they were getting. They didn’t realize that by telling Joe, they were lighting a fuse.”
My muscles went limp and trembly. I scooted over to the wall and leaned against it to hold myself upright. Asa joined me.
Pete held up the headphones and threw me a questioning glance, offering to take Harris off of speaker. But I wanted to know the truth. I needed to know. I shook my head.
“Joe figured out that Skeet had been shielding him from whatever Mercier was becoming, so he bypassed Skeet and went straight to Tucker. He was brave, I’ll give him that. He came to the lodge to confront Tucker, threatened to go to the FBI, the CIA, Homeland Security, report him to Congress, all of that, unless Mercier quit working with clients whose activities could be damaging to U.S. interests.” Harris paused to clear his throat. “What can I say? Joe was a good guy. We all liked him. He should have just let things be. But as it happened, he never even made it out of that conference room—got the same drug you got, but a stronger dose.”
“So Tucker made up the hunting accident story.”
“Tucker and Hencock staged the accident the next morning, then brought in some friends Skeet had been cultivating in local law enforcement…the usual.”
“For some, I guess,” Ben murmured.
“Fine; be self-righteous. But whatever shape the future takes, we’re coming out on top.”
“As long as I tell you the secret to the double kheir, that is. If some upstart group of sensitives somewhere in the world gets it before you do, then you could have that competition you’ve been working so hard to avoid.”
“Like the MacGregor Group, you mean?” Harris asked. We heard the creak of a chair, then footsteps slowly pacing. “Frankly, we were shocked that you solved the problem first. You were barely on our radar. You didn’t even have a full kheir until a couple of weeks ago, and we thought all you cared about was your alternative healing clinic. The fact that you found the key was quite a wake-up call for us. We have to lock this information down now, before anyone else does. All we want is to control the knowledge, keep it under tight guard and make sure it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”