by Darrell Bain
"What?"
"Being in charge of the kids they recruited, some of the ones you ignored. The way I understand she feels about them, she'll do anything those people tell her to so long as she can give the kids orders and control their perks. Especially after they told her you played on her feelings to pry information out of her. We can't have that."
"I'm sorry, I didn't know it would come to this."
"Sorry doesn't get it in this organization, Casey. You're either right or you're gone, and when I say gone, I mean gone as in not ever coming back. Like Larkin will be before the day is out. I'm sure you realize by now this is the biggest thing we've ever found to fight the feds and the competition."
Casey nodded, afraid to speak.
"Alright, I've started some repairs. Those three kids who can actually read minds are the ones we absolutely have to have. Make sure Jeannie Burger is well protected while we round up the other two, and while they're helping us identify turncoats, feds, and double agents, we're going to find out how they do their little mind reading trick if we have to take their brains apart cell by cell. I've got little Jeannie's boyfriend here now to keep her happy, but we need to get the other two mind readers."
"How about Rudo?"
"You did well identifying his spy, but I'll deal with him. Here's what you do to get the boy into our camp without attracting attention.” He gave Casey his orders. “If that doesn't work, we'll use the other girl as soon as we can locate her. They're on the road, on the way out here. I'm giving the orders now, so there'll be no delay once we pin down their location."
Casey nodded. Inwardly, he sighed. He knew this was how the management end of the illegal supply chain maintained such tight control. Once in, there was no way out. Not this side of the grave. However, he wouldn't be part of that operation. After all, the Jones girl and her parents would most likely be in a motel somewhere. It would be easy for Brazos to send a crew to come in the dead of night and take care of what needed to be done. And at this point, he didn't want to tell Brazos that it was really Jimmy Gomez whom Jeannie wanted, not that juvenile delinquent Brazos had given her. He wasn't even a mind reader.
Casey departed and drove to another building within the complex, the one where Joe Gomez was still being oriented. Gomez didn't know it yet, but his job description was going to change.
* * * *
Jimmy was scared and had no one he could talk to. Amber was still beyond the range where he could contact her mentally, and, certainly, he couldn't talk to her parents. In his room, he took out the Glock Bailey had given him, a twin of the handgun Amber had gotten as a present when she turned thirteen. His parents had no idea he owned it. He checked to be sure it was loaded and had a cartridge in the chamber then stuck it under his pillow. After that, he called Amber. Talking on the phone was better than nothing.
* * * *
Ray Hetrick was worried. Larkin was suddenly gone, moved from her rented home almost overnight, and he had no idea where she was heading If he had to bet, he would put his money on southern California. What he didn't know was whether it was Casey's group or another who had gotten to her. More of the perceptive kids and their parents were leaving, too. Apparently an all-out recruiting drive by competing organizations was underway, all of them offering what appeared on the surface to be legitimate jobs. The whole situation was getting out of hand. Regardless of Bailey's and Pat's wishes, he needed more help than his retired friends were able to provide. The FBI was too hidebound with bureaucratic bottlenecks and turf-protecting prima donnas in upper management to even think about bringing them in. Same for Homeland Security. The National Security Agency was better, but like all the agencies grouped under the anti-terrorist tent after 9/ll, it had to answer to politicians. In ordinary circumstances, Ray understood and approved, mostly. In a democracy, government agencies had to be subordinate to elected representatives. This was different, though. If he broached the subject with any of them, inevitably, there would be a leak and explosive publicity, which left just one option: Project Omega.
BOOK THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Project Omega was given its super-secret charter after 9/ll by its founder. Its funding was supported by a trust set up by a billionaire who realized that, on occasion, action needed to be taken completely outside the bounds of government; indeed, its very existence derived from that concept. The original director was still running Project Omega under guidelines outlined by its wealthy benefactor. Its mission was stated simply: What is necessary must be done. Its money came from numbered Swiss bank accounts, and it answered to no government. The personnel and field agents were screened very, very carefully and offered employment in such a way that even if anyone working for Project Omega was apprehended while on one of its missions, there was no way to link them to their superiors. Even had they confessed completely, they wouldn't have been believed. The whole concept was too outlandish.
Ray Hetrick had been offered a job with Project Omega as soon as he was eligible for retirement. He had been considering it when the situation involving Casey and the perceptive kids came up. Now, he thought it was time to contact them again. If there was ever a job the foundation was fitted for, this was it. He called the Arkansas Gazette in Little Rock and placed a classified ad. It was completely innocuous, but it would attract the attention of someone in Project Omega. After that, he waited.
* * * *
Casey set Gomez up beautifully. First, he made the arrangements, and he dropped by the little office that had been assigned to him. He acted as if it was a casual visit.
"Hi, Joe,” Casey said after knocking and coming into the office.
Gomez brightened when he saw Casey. They had met several times in Mountain Grove while Casey lined him up for his new job but only once since he arrived.
He stood up and came around his simple desk to shake Casey's hand. “Hey man, good to see ya! What's going on?"
"Just stopped by to see how you're getting along. Got a few minutes?"
"Sure, sure! Sit down. Want some coffee or a Coke?"
"Coffee would be good."
Gomez had a little carafe already filled from the coffee maker residing in a corner on a small cabinet. He poured for them, and as soon as they were seated, began talking. “Hey Sean, I don't mean to seem ungrateful, but the more I learn about my new job, the more it looks like I'm going to be bored stiff. Hell, there's nothing to it, arranging truck routes after the reps get the contracts signed. I'll hardly ever see anyone in person and won't do any selling myself. I thought it was my ability as a salesman this place was after. Soon as I get all the highways and cities sort of mapped out where we'll send our shipments after the new customers are on board, I won't have much to do."
Casey beamed ebulliently. “That's kind of why I dropped by, Joe. I've been talking to management and the folks who've been orienting you, and I believe we underestimated your ability. I think we could use you better as an evaluator."
Gomez frowned, hoping Casey wasn't considering him for a position out of his depth. He pretty well knew his own ability. He was a good salesman, but his education was limited to a high school diploma.
"Don't frown, Joe; I know what I'm doing.” He glanced at his watch. “Hey, tell you what, why don't we go for a drink or two and a bite to eat and discuss the matter. I know a good place right near here."
"Fine with me,” Gomez agreed, glad to get out of the confines of the office. He really was bored.
Casey drove him to a fairly high class restaurant where he had already made reservations. Before going in for their meal, Casey steered them toward the lounge.
Joe looked around, somewhat uncomfortable at the opulent surroundings and plush chairs and tables. They were widely separated instead of being pushed close together in order to crowd more customers into limited space, as he was accustomed to seeing at his usual haunts. When he saw the prices, he understood how they could afford it.
Casey saw the look and laughed. “Don't worry, it's
on my expense account. You'll also have a very generous one, by the way, if you accept this offer."
Casey gave the order to the waitress while Joe gazed at the woman serving them. She was tall, beautiful, and well-endowed. In order to avoid the appearance of gawking at her, he looked around the place. It was only about a third full, but more than half the customers were very attractive women, sitting together mostly, but a number of them apparently alone. “Lots of good looking broads in here,” he remarked.
"That's why I like the place,” Casey said and laughed.
The drinks were strong and appeared quickly. Casey avoided Joe's attempts to talk about the prospective job change and concentrated on telling him what a great place this was to have a good time, pick up women, and perhaps score a hit or two of Jams or other products along that line. By the time they were into their third drink, which Casey had previously paid the barmaid to make stronger than usual for his companion, Joe was very relaxed. He saw nothing untoward in Casey sending a couple of drinks over to a table inhabited by two very good looking blonds in their twenties. A little later it seemed perfectly natural for the women to be sitting at their table, laughing and joking with them. Joe wasn't even suspicious when it turned out that the one named Evie worked for CP, too.
After one more drink, they moved to the dining room. By the end of the meal, served with a very good house wine, enough for the two men as well as Evie and Carol, who were sitting with them, Joe found that Evie was concentrating her attention on him. She leaned forward when he spoke to her, displaying considerable cleavage. She touched his arm and played with his knee under the table while smiling enticingly. By that time, Joe didn't want to hear any more about the prospective job. He barely noticed when Casey and Carol quietly departed, merely nodding and grinning when Casey told him to stay as long as he wanted and that everything would be taken care of.
Later that night, Joe tried Jams for the first time. After that, he was ready for anything, even the other drug Evie produced from her bedside table.
Joe Gomez saw Evie twice more that week and each time became more enamored. She was young, undemanding, and had a magnificent figure. By the time Casey asked him if he could get Jimmy to come to work for the company, he was ready to do anything to keep up with his new woman, even though he still refused to believe there was much special about his son other than his being rather remote and somewhat bookish, unlike himself.
* * * *
"Dad, can't you see you're being set up? This whole thing was just a ploy to get me."
"No, it's not. Besides, why should you care? You need something to keep you busy during the summer anyway. Take their job and earn some money for a change. It's no sweat off our balls if you can't do what they think you can. Just play along."
Jimmy could tell there was no use reasoning with him. “All right, Dad, I'll try it, but just for a week.” At least he could see what kind of environment his father was working in and what they wanted of him.
"Great! That's my boy. By the way, there's a good looking young girl about your age working as an intern there. I'll try to arrange for you to meet her, how's that?"
"It won't be necessary, Dad. I'll find her myself."
"A chip off the old block,” Joe said and realized Melissa was listening. He shrugged, uncaring. Melissa had been acting very coldly the last few days just because he came home late and a little wobbly.
Melissa didn't say anything. She had found lipstick stains and the smell of perfume on his clothes. She knew he was already up to his old ways, and they had hardly gotten unpacked. She turned away, wishing Pat was out here so she could talk to her. She realized now that it was she who had been wrong. She should have known Joe wasn't going to change.
* * * *
Jimmy woke up two days later; it was Saturday. They had gotten moved in finally. He had gone to his room after lunch to listen to some music and muse over the problems surrounding him. Jeannie and her yearning for him. The “job” he had reported for Friday that he hated almost immediately and had told Dad he would not return to. Mom's unhappiness and brooding silence. Jeannie's increasing involvement with drugs and her revelation that Jordy was out here. The need to talk to Pat and Bailey. And, most of all, the lack of contact with Amber. He dozed off wondering where she was right then, what she was doing, how far away they might be by now, and how soon they would arrive. It wouldn't be long now, he knew. No more than a day or so.
His eyes opened wide, wondering whether it had been a dream, then realized that it hadn't been; it was real. Amber! It was Amber! Immediately, his mind was suffused with hers as they exchanged mental endearments that were impossible to describe in words. It was more of an overwhelming, all-enveloping awareness of how much they loved each other and needed to be close. The contact wasn't even sexually oriented, but as their minds remained merged, each had impressions of the others’ body sense. There was a mutual longing for physical contact.
In her motel room, while Amber was happily renewing the ambrosial mind-to-mind contact with Jimmy, other events were taking place. The man at the mall in the sunglasses and baseball cap had clandestinely taken a picture of Jimmy with his phone and passed it on to his superiors with the information that he had been identified as a threat almost immediately by the children even though the they had never seen him before. That gave Brazos a way to find out where the Jones family was. He had already discovered they were on the way to Los Angeles by having their real estate agent strong armed, but his hackers hadn't found any record of credit card use at motels along the way. They must be paying with cash.
Jimmy's phone number was easy to find, and a contact with the phone company relayed a list of the numbers he had called. There was only one. From there, Brazos initiated a trace, using an operative with fake FBI credentials. The license plate of the van Amber and her parents were traveling in was also easy to obtain. By the time Amber finally touched minds with Jimmy, the telephone traces had the van's location pinpointed. The pre-planned operation, which had already been put together, was well under way.
* * * *
The first Amber knew of impending danger was when the pleasurable miasma of Jimmy's mind was penetrated by an image that intruded, faded, then intruded again, closer this time. Someone was both thinking of her and trying to avoid doing so.
Wait! Amber mentally telegraphed Jimmy. She broke contact with him except for a tendril of thought she left entangled with his so he would know what was going on. It didn't take long for her to find out.
Jimmy! Some people are coming for me! They're going to kill Mom and Bailey!! she shouted inwardly. The minds she felt drawing near were horrifyingly direct in their intentions, so much so that they betrayed their presence, and there was very little time left to act. She flicked on the light by her bed and sat up.
At first, Amber was blinded by uncertainty, but she remembered what Bailey had told her one time. In an emergency, do something, don't just stand there! Instinctively, she sought protection from the nearest strong male—Bailey. She grabbed her phone and dialed his cell phone number, knowing it would take forever to go through the switchboard. To her, it seemed to take just that long before he answered, while all the time she was frantically trying to get through to him mentally. She held the phone to her ear while she slid out of bed, dressed only in panties and one of Bailey's old soft tee shirts. She hurried to her suitcase and rummaged in it for her gun while the ringing went on, and the men bent on kidnap and murder came closer and closer. She was just getting ready to dart out the door and try to stop it all herself when Bailey answered.
"Bailey!” she screamed, both vocally and with all the force of her mind. “Get your gun! Men are coming to kill you and Mom! No, wait—one is a woman, but—Bailey, she'll kill, too! Hurry, Bailey! Get Mom out of sight!” Sensing Bailey's intentions and realizing the mistake she had made she screamed again, “No, no, don't turn on the light!"
Amber dropped the phone on the bed and clutched her automatic in both hands. They wer
e trembling, but she managed to slide the action back enough to see that a round was chambered. The Glock had no safety, leaving it ready and deadly.
The three men and one woman closing in on their rooms on the ground floor of the motel were already in the parking lot by then, out of their car, and walking toward them with the confidence of professionals. Two of the men stopped at Pat and Bailey's room while the third man and the woman went on a few paces and halted at the door to Amber's room.
Amber dropped behind the big bed, gun in hand and aimed at the door. She knew exactly what was coming and what their intentions were. At the same time, she did her best to let Bailey know mentally what was happening. It was much harder than simply telling him; she was still unused to having to make anyone other than Jimmy or Jeannie understand her that way. It took all the mental effort she could muster.
Outside, the four assassins made eye contact and then acted in unison. They already had cards to open the doors, having obtained them from the night clerk who now lay dead in a pool of blood. Both doors were unlocked and thrown open at the same time.
"Shoot them, Bailey!” Amber screamed, even as her gun bucked in her hand. The noise was loud and startling without ear protectors. The scent of gunpowder she was familiar with from the range tingled in her nostrils. Being able to sense the lethal determination in the minds of the man and woman who had come for her made it easy to pull the trigger. She shot three times, one bullet each as they burst through the doorway and one more for the man after they fell. He hadn't died as quickly as the woman. Amber waited no longer. She rushed out of the room, jumping over the corpse of the man as she went. Next door, she knew Bailey hadn't fared as well.
As quickly as Bailey realized he wasn't dreaming, he reacted quickly, grabbing his gun from the night stand and literally shoving Pat off the other side of the bed. He rolled off on top of her then got back to his knees and faced the entrance from behind the bed just as Amber had. The door sprang open just as Pat realized something was badly amiss.