MindWar

by Darrell Bain

  With that statement, Mrs. Schaffer nodded and dropped her smile, trying not to appear too eager. “Thank you. I'll do all I can to help."

  "Fine, fine. Now the other thing, I'd like you to talk to the teachers and ask them if they've noticed any change in the children's behavior. Anything at all. Could you do that for us? I think you would be the best person for the job; however, I'll be talking to some of the teachers myself."

  "Why surely. Is there anything in particular you're looking for?"

  Casey looked solemn, trying to appear mysterious. “Well, let's just see what you come up with, and we'll talk again. How's that?"

  "Oh, good. You know, now that I think about it, a number of children have been absent lately because of medical appointments according to their parents. I wonder if that has anything to do with what you're investigating?"

  "It very well could be, Mrs. Schaffer. It could be, indeed,” Casey said, thinking of the PET scans.

  "How soon do you need me to talk to the teachers?"

  "I'd like it to be as soon as possible.” He took out his wallet and handed her his card. “This has my cell phone number on it. Please call me when you're ready to see me again."

  "I certainly will,” she said as Casey stood up.

  They shook hands and Casey left; so far, he was more than satisfied with his progress. Now it was time to go calling, and the Morrison woman was one of the first on his list. He looked forward to that interview.

  * * * *

  Since talking to Casey and then Pat, Bailey had done some serious thinking and a lot of research. Saturday morning he pulled his files up from the hospital computer and went over them again. He sat for almost an hour, considering the implications of what he had discovered so far. What wouldn't a drug dealer give for someone who could tell who was an undercover narcotics agent? How far a would the government be willing to go to induce people with abilities like the children were showing to work for them as customs agents, for interviewing captured terrorists—or worse, in his mind, using them to blindside politicians of the opposing party. There were other possibilities he thought of that were even more frightening. Finally, he decided. He couldn't do anything about the middle school children in other areas of the country who might develop perceptive abilities, but he could certainly try to protect the ones he felt responsible for. The children of Mountain Grove primary school were the ones most obviously affected anyhow.

  There was nothing he could do now about the PET scans, but he could certainly change the language and the interpretations written up in his notes. He agonized over falsifying medical data, but finally his concern for the future of the children pushed him over the edge. He deleted all mention of mirror neurons, simply leaving descriptions of the areas of increased activity and eliminated his speculations. If anyone who examined them knew much about mirror neurons, the scans would still stand out, but without a history, no one else would become excited. He was well aware that if a computer expert examined the records closely, his previous notations could be brought back up, but hopefully, that wouldn't happen. In the meantime, his actions might buy the children some extra time. He was just glad Mountain Grove had been the only primary school attacked and that only young children showed the increased perceptiveness. So far.

  * * * *

  Bailey felt very cheerful as he headed toward Pat's home. It had been a while since he had been out with a woman more than once, and he liked her. He touched his forehead, hoping she wasn't put off by approaching baldness because it certainly looked as if he were headed in that direction, but since she had been out with him once before, perhaps she wasn't. After meeting her, he had begun trying some of the hair restorative medicines and thought his hair loss had at least slowed down.

  He rang the doorbell while juggling the bottle of Chablis he had brought, hoping she wouldn't be offended. Damn it, he told himself, one of these days you're going to have to get out of this idiotic shyness. Except he knew he probably wouldn't. The DNA scan during his internship had unfortunately shown that he had inherited the shyness gene.

  "Hi! Come on in.” Pat smiled at him and asked, “What have you got there?” as he walked through the entrance.

  "I brought some Chablis to go with dinner. I hope it's okay with you."

  "Sure. Give it to me and have a seat. Amber's over playing with Jimmy right now, but she'll be back in a bit."

  Bailey looked around and finally chose the small leather couch against one wall. Behind it was a tier of bookshelves, and as he looked around, he saw another whole wall was covered with them.

  "You read a lot,” he said, wincing almost immediately at the thought of what an inane statement that was considering there were so many books in this one room.

  Pat simply laughed. “I had a hard time finding a house with enough built-in bookshelves. I still want another wall of them. Maybe when the school's insurance company settles I can afford it."

  "Sounds like me. I'm going to have to move out of my apartment soon if I don't get rid of some books."

  Pat laughed again. “How about something to drink, if it's not too early for you."

  "Not a bit. I mean, yes, thanks. Whatever you're having."

  "I have some Chablis already open, so we'll save your bottle. Be back in a jiff."

  Bailey's gaze followed her as she rounded the bar into the big kitchen and continued to watch her through the opening above the bar as she stretched to collect wine glasses from a hutch. She had on well worn jeans and a sleeveless pink blouse that went well with her blond hair. She made him feel overdressed in a jacket and slacks.

  Pat brought two glasses of wine, handed one to Bailey, and sat down on the other end of the couch from him. “Why so serious looking?” she asked. “Is something wrong?"

  "No. Not yet, anyway. I guess I'm just worried about the kids after that FBI agent came to see me.” He didn't know whether to tell her about changing the medical records or not.

  "Well, as far as that goes, so am I. He hasn't come here, by the way, though I heard someone from the FBI was in with the principal yesterday. I assume it was Casey unless there are others like him nosing about."

  "Hmm. Wonder what he was after there?"

  "No one could find out, other than it was definitely an FBI agent who visited with the principal."

  "Typical. He probably told the principal everything was top secret."

  Pat looked at the wine she was still holding, sipped at it, and set it on the coffee table. “So far as Amber goes, I wish it would stay secret. By the way, we had a good talk, and she says she'll be careful. She's a good girl; I'm sure she'll try. On the other hand, she also said she can't help what she does."

  "If it's the mirror neurons responsible, which is what I believe, she can't stop. It would be like trying to stop herself from breathing. However, I do hope you told her to keep anything she learns to herself."

  "I did, and she said she would. I gave her permission to talk to you though."

  Bailey was humbled by her trust in him, and that made the decision to tell her what he had done easy.

  When he was finished, Pat slid over and took his face in her hands. She kissed him thoroughly and said “Thank you, Bailey. You risked a lot for the kids."

  Bailey took her hands and held them. “Pat, I..."

  "Why don't you kiss her again, silly. That's what you want to do, isn't it?"

  Startled, both of them turned to the door that led into the back way in through the garage. Amber was standing there, grinning mischievously.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The door bell rang just as they were finishing dinner. Pat had made grilled chicken breasts with twice baked potatoes, one of Amber's favorite meals. She was pleased to see that Bailey had cleaned his plate.

  "Now who can that be?” Pat wondered. It was still early; she had gone ahead with dinner after deciding they had both consumed enough wine. Still upright, despite the multiple glasses of wine, she slid away from the table and went to the door. She pulled it o
pen and, despite Bailey's warning that Casey might want to see her again, couldn't help being startled.

  "What do you want?” she blurted out before thinking.

  Casey displayed his credentials. “Mrs. Morrison, the FBI has reopened the investigation into the terror attack which involved your child. I need to speak to you, please."

  "Why?"

  "May I come in?"

  Pat debated a moment and finally decided that it might be better to get it over with while Bailey was present. “Alright, but don't take long. I have company."

  As soon as Casey saw Bailey standing in the living room, he felt the welcome tickle of power over another person welling up inside. Now he had additional leverage with the doctor. “Well, fancy seeing you again,” he said as he came into the living room where Bailey was standing.

  "Hello, Casey,” Bailey said and left it at that. He didn't know whether to stay or offer to go.

  "Sit down,” Pat said to Casey. She decided not to offer the agent anything to drink, even though Bailey had a glass of wine from dinner in his hand. “Why don't you stay for this, Bailey. Please?"

  "Alright.” Bailey sat down next to Pat.

  Bailey suspected that Casey already had a recorder going even though he hadn't mentioned it, as he was sure regulations must call for.

  "Mrs. Morrison, without going into specifics, I—the FBI, that is, has evidence that some changes have taken place in the children exposed to the agent used in the attack on Amber's school. I'd like to ask you about it, if I may."

  "You can ask,” Pat said, her expression tense.

  "Very well. Have her grades improved or changed in any way over the last six months?"

  "Amber's grades have always been good."

  "Has her behavior changed any at all that you've noticed?"

  "Amber has always been well behaved."

  Casey's expression went from friendly to threatening as he began to understand that the woman wasn't going to tell him anything. However, he knew the kids had changed. He had already talked to several teachers Friday evening and this morning. One of them, Nora Larkin, had given him a lot of information. “That doesn't agree with what I've learned from some of the school authorities and others involved with the children."

  "Amber is fine. She hasn't changed."

  "Perhaps you'll be able to tell me why Doctor Jones ordered a PET scan on Amber then. As well as many more of the children."

  "You'd have to ask Doctor Jones about that,” Pat said. She wasn't about to give this man anything, no matter what he said.

  "I have. However, he is hiding behind medical confidentiality, and if I'm not mistaken, skating rather close to the ethical line by consorting with a patient's parent.” He let them both absorb that bit of input before continuing confidently. “Suppose you bring Amber in and let me talk to her for a few minutes."

  Pat felt her pulse beginning to pound. Now what? she thought. Can he compel Amber to speak to him? And if he can't, will he blackmail her into it by threatening to tell everyone at the hospital that Bailey is seeing me? She didn't think there was anything obviously unethical about the arrangement, but—

  "I don't want to talk to you. You're a bad man,” Amber exclaimed loudly as she came into the room.

  Bailey was amused but tried not to show it. The little scamp had been hiding and listening!

  Pat motioned to Amber and when she came to her, surrounded the little girl with both arms.

  "I'm not bad, Amber,” Casey said and realized he was frowning.

  "Yes, you are!” Amber said adamantly. “You want to do bad things to me! I saw you at school looking at the girls. You wanted to do bad things to them, too!"

  Casey's face turned bright red. How had the little devil known that? By God, there was something strange going on here!

  Bailey cleared his throat until he had everyone's attention and said “As Mrs. Morrison's and Amber's physician, I believe this interview is causing them undue stress. I think it's time to terminate it."

  Amber had stared at Casey for a few long moments and buried her head in Pat's bosom.

  "I can compel cooperation, you know,” Casey said, regaining his composure though still thinking furiously about what Amber had blurted out.

  "You're not going to talk to Amber without a court order,” Pat said firmly. “Now, please leave. You're upsetting my daughter."

  "I'll be back,” Casey said. He got to his feet and left without another word.

  Amber didn't raise her head until she heard the door close behind him. Then she said “Mom, he really does do bad things to girls. I don't want to talk to him!” Tears gathered in her eyes, ready to spill over at any moment.

  Pat hugged her. “Don't worry, baby. We'll take care of you.” She spoke the words while staring over Amber's head at Bailey with fear-stricken eyes.

  Bailey nodded and gave her a reassuring smile, all the while considering Amber's outburst. Could there be something to what she said? Something more than daydreaming on Casey's part? he wondered. Bailey knew as a psychologist that some men and women might desire sex with underage girls or boys but never carry it any further than fantasies. Just on the chance, though ... “Amber, if what you said about Mister Casey is true, maybe I have a way to find out."

  "He is bad,” Amber insisted.

  "I believe you,” Bailey told her, “but I'll have to dig up proof."

  "Can you do that?” Pat asked.

  "Maybe, but don't ask. Better for you not to know.” Silently, he hoped he could find something out before Casey went to the hospital administrator or his chief and told about him seeing Pat while, in a sense, having Amber as a patient.

  Amber was already over her momentary trauma. “I bet I'll know,” Doctor Bailey."

  Bailey stood up and smiled at her. “I'll bet you will too, Amber, but don't tell anyone if you find out. Okay?"

  "Can I tell Mom?"

  "Oh, sure. You can tell her or me everything. Just no one else. Other bad men might want to know."

  "Okay, I won't,” Amber said, nodding her head.

  Bailey grinned at her and Pat. “That spot about being your physician just popped out as a way to get rid of him, Pat."

  "That's all right; it did the trick."

  "I think Amber had something to do with him leaving, too. Listen, I'm sorry to rush off, but now I really do need to get home and get to work on a little project this brought up. I might be able to confirm what Amber said if I get lucky. In the meantime, if Casey or anyone else bothers you, call me immediately."

  Pat walked with him to the door. Seeing that he was hesitant and knowing that Amber was watching couldn't stop her; she put her arms around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers. He would probably have shuffled his feet and shook my hand if I waited on him to make a move, she thought. Once started, however, she found no complaints with the way he kissed. Shy or not, he must have had some very good experience sometime in the past.

  * * * *

  Bailey drove back to his apartment in somewhat of a daze, remembering the kiss all the way. Pat made him feel wonderful, as if he could solve any problem he cared to take on, and he intended to do his damnedest to try getting the FBI out of their lives—and that included the rest of the children—before this went any further.

  As soon as he shucked his jacket, he went directly for the phone. He had to look up the number; he hadn't talked to Wanda Greenleigh in a long time. They had lived together during their last two years of medical school, but once their internships took them to different cities, they had gradually drifted apart. He still thought well of her, and Wanda was always ready to talk on the rare occasions he called even though they were no longer romantically involved.

  Once through the greeting and rehashing of a few old times, he got into the real reason he had called. “Wanda, I have a big problem. Remember the terrorist attack I told you about? Uh huh. Now I've turned up a few anomalies in the children who were hospitalized, and there's a certain FBI agent who's giving me and
the mother of one of the children a hard time. Could I get you to run a personal search on him?"

  "Gosh, Bailey! The FBI? No way I'm going to hack into FBI files. I'm good, but not good enough to risk getting away with something like that!"

  "Not the FBI files; I wouldn't ask you to go that far. All I want is personal data on him, maybe something nefarious he's been up to."

  "Like what?"

  "Possibly fooling around with underage girls."

  "Oh, really! That paints a different picture. I hate those bastards. Yeah, I'll do it. If he's one of those, I'll find out! How soon do you need it?"

  "As soon as possible, Wanda. I, uh..."

  "Wanda's laugh came tinkling into his ear. “I bet you're involved with her mother, Bailey. Right?"

  "Well, I want to be. I like the little girl, too."

  "Alright, give me the full name of the agent, where he lives, and anything else you know about him. Also, give me the exact time of the terrorist attack. I've forgotten."

  Bailey told her everything he could think of, including Little Rock as Casey's home base and probable residence.

  "Okay, I'll get on it right away. I've got your home number, but give me your cell, too. I'm working in research now, same place. Sanford Labs. You can call me there if you need me immediatley and I'm not answering my phone at home. I work late sometimes."

  "Great. Wanda, you're a big help,” Bailey said. They exchanged information, and by the time they said good bye, he felt much better. Wanda was a computer whiz and had hung around with some very experienced hackers for a while, but she did it just for fun. Only as a secondary thought did he realize that if Wanda did find that Casey was guilty of the very thing Amber said he was, it would also be resounding proof that a profound change had taken place in the brains of the children.

  It was late Sunday night, nearly eleven, before she called him back. The ringing phone woke him instantly, a response ingrained into him by years of medical practice.