The Psychonaut_Book 1

by Tom G. H. Adams

  “One more thing,” Jason said. “When you take these people out, make sure you it’s permanent.”

  “Take no prisoners, eh?”

  “Well, Shamon won’t—unless he thinks you could still be an asset to him; and that seems unlikely given the effective job you did of disabusing him of the notion.”

  “So long, Jason.”

  “For now.”

  Through the window, Merrick watched Jason diminish into the distance as Albany pulled away.

  With Albany’s genetic manipulation and Rovach’s illusionary capabilities, they passed themselves off as a husband and wife in one group, and three friends on a back-packing trip in the other. Merrick still thought Albany, Rovach and Mike looked an unlikely trio but they would have to take their chances.

  As they lined up at the departure gate, Celestia looked at her passport. “So, I’m Mrs Dwight-Hetherington am I?”

  “Collector of fine art and expensive shoes, apparently,” Merrick replied.

  “And you’re a trader in fine Persian rugs.”

  “Stops me being anybody’s doormat.”

  Celestia smiled. “Tu est un comedian.” She took hold of his arm. “Tell me, husband of mine. Are we very much in love?”

  Merrick thought for a moment. They were mentally closed off from each other by mutual consent. “I think we must be. I’ve been so dazzled by your beauty that I’ve eschewed my womanising ways and embraced monogamy.”

  She threw her head back and laughed. Merrick allowed himself to feel content, if only for a moment.

  ~~~

  Leonardo da Vinci airport was as far removed from Turkmenistan’s Ashgabat International as it could be. The melee of travellers swirled through the terminal like ants. It was perfect cover, yet Merrick was still tense.

  Are you certain we’re undetected? he sent to Celestia.

  Surement. It is hard to filter out the swarm of mental activity here, but there are no threats in the immediate vicinity.

  The companions stayed within eye contact of each other, but took two separate cabs to their destination, the Jumeirah Grand Hotel. With Merrick’s credit cards off limits, he had to survive on borrowed Hierophant cash. He didn’t relish being dependent on Jason, but it wasn’t like he had a choice.

  “This place is, how do you say it in English ... lavish?” Celestia said as she signed the guestbook.

  “Mr and Mrs Dwight-Hetherington wouldn’t settle for anything less,” Merrick replied.

  “We need clothes more fitting for a CEO and his wife.”

  Merrick looked down at his ruffled jacket and creased chinos. “I agree. Do you fancy a shopping trip this afternoon?”

  “Shouldn’t we be running our quarry to ground?”

  “Mike has enquiries to make with his Italian network and pinpoint our hacker’s location. He only has an IP address to go on at the moment.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Then we have time to kill?”

  “Certainement.”

  “You need to work on your French, mon cher.”

  “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”

  “Are you flirting with me, Mr Dwight-Hetherington?”

  Damn it - he was. His demeanour fell under a swath of guilt and Celestia couldn’t help but notice.

  Je suis désolé, Merrick. I forget myself.

  It’s okay. He let his ardour douse itself. He couldn’t afford this kind of distraction—there was too much at stake, too many lives depended on him being focused.

  He mouthed an apology and followed the bellhop to the lift. Celestia trailed behind.

  After tipping the bellhop, Merrick looked at his watch—it had self-adjusted by virtue of the GPS co-ordinates. It occurred to him that such a device could be hacked into and used to track his movements. He resolved to check it out with Mike.

  “It’s three-thirty, local time,” he said to Celestia. “I’m going to call on Mike and see what he’s gleaned.”

  Très bien, Celestia sent. I’m going to take a shower. They communicated by telepathy as a default—the change crept up on Merrick like a surprise gift. He noted its significance but chose to suppress it.

  Haven’t I told you before—get a grip, Whyte.

  The other Outcasts had a suite of rooms on the next floor. Merrick took the stairs and knocked on the main door. It opened a crack and revealed Rovach’s disguised face. The illusionist nodded and let him in.

  “Everything okay?” Merrick said. Rovach pointed next door and Merrick followed the man’s signal. He’d grown tolerant to the illusionist’s silent communication over the months, but he still found it unsettling.

  In the adjoining room, Albany brewed a cup of tea. Mike was hunched over his laptop, a whisky from the mini-bar at his side.

  “I could get used to this lifestyle,” Albany said.

  “Don’t get too comfortable,” Merrick replied. “You’re not going to get time to enjoy it for long.”

  “Fucking killjoy.”

  Merrick ignored the quip and pulled up a chair next to Mike. “Any progress?”

  “I’ve made contact with a colleague at Interpol, but he was cagey. It seems the UK authorities view my absence as suspicious.”

  “Do you trust him not to welch?”

  “I think so. He owes me a favour, but he said that after this, all deals are off.”

  “I hope you’re right ... I mean about his reliability. Is he going to get back to you?”

  “Yeah, but it’ll take a couple of hours. He’s on a case and doesn’t get back to his office until five. In the meantime, I’ve sent a coded tracker into cyber-space to see if I strike lucky on the IP address.”

  “Couldn’t it be false?”

  “I’ve followed its bounce through several different servers. Whoever it is has several aliases, but they all originate from here.”

  “Could it be bait?”

  “I haven’t ruled it out. I have to say it seems incongruous that a hacker would draw us here when Shamon’s stronghold and source of power is back in Turkmenistan.”

  Merrick couldn’t fault the logic. He brought up the issue of his watch, but Mike dismissed it. In theory, a satellite hack could track Merrick, but US defence systems were notoriously difficult to breach.

  “In addition, the Ukurum hacker’s a bit sloppy. After all, I’ve been able to follow his trail without too much difficulty.”

  “That’s what worries me. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it, mate. I’m going to freshen up.”

  Mike shared a knowing glance with Albany, a claxon call to a Psychonaut.

  “I know what you’re both thinking,” he said.

  “I don’t do any thinking,” Albany said, “it’s beyond my pay grade.”

  “Yeah, right.” He picked up Mike’s whisky and downed it in one.

  “Hey,” Mike protested.

  “I need you sober. Keep your mind on the job. And Albany?”

  “Yep?”

  “Wipe that grin off your face and give me back my own fisiognamy.”

  “Say, what?”

  “My face, you turnip, give me back my face. It feels like I’m in a perpetual gurning contest.”

  Back in the room, Merrick threw his jacket on the bed, sat down and took off his shoes. It was good to look like himself again, if only for an hour or so.

  Celestia emerged from the bathroom through a cloud of steam, one towel wrapped round her head, another round her body. She looked thoughtful.

  You’re worried, he sent.

  Oui. I sense the enemy. Not too far afield.

  Do you know where?

  Non. The signature comes in short bursts through the static. It’s all I have.

  Do they know we’re here?

  Again, I cannot tell.

  It reminded Merrick how precarious their position was, yet everything was a calculated risk. He could only hope they could accomplish what they needed—and fast.

  He t
ook a shower while Celestia dried her hair, and allowed himself the luxury of staying under the cool stream longer than needed. Turkmenistan had been primitive, and the Italian water seemed to wash away more than the sand of that exotic place. Some of the disappointment and the heartache disappeared down the plughole too, yet he knew it was only surface run-off. He’d carry the mental scars until his dying day. A date that could be sooner, rather than later.

  He entered the bedroom rubbing a towel roughly over his hair. “Celestia, I ... ”

  He let the words trail off at the sight of his mind-twin, lying fast asleep on the double bed. The towel she’d been wearing had slipped off, revealing her small, almost juvenile breasts. The contusions, still visible after her encounter with the Necrolyte appeared as purple and yellow blotches on her skin. It gave her a vulnerability Merrick found hard to resist. He thought of covering her modesty, but in the end lay down next to her.

  I see you, Psychonaut. The mind-speech seemed slurred and Merrick couldn’t tell if she was dreaming or not.

  He watched her chest rise and fall, almost imperceptibly, let his eyes wander over her face, almost boyish with its tanned skin and delicately carved bones. The only signs of age were faint laughter lines at the corners of her eyes. As he remarked upon these features, he concluded there was both delicacy and strength in them.

  What you’re doing now ... her speech was clearer now, more aware ... is it leading where I think it is?

  He recognised it for what it was. Now that the question lay floating in the air, he saw himself in equilibrium. Desire tilted him one way on the high wire, while responsibility pulled him toward the other. Unbidden, Lotus’ image appeared again in his mind. He saw how attraction could morph into a disastrous obsession. A correlation of variables—his urge to be complete and the propensity for tragedy.

  She sensed his mind withdraw and snapped her eyes open. Did I say the wrong thing?

  No. It was ... it was charming.

  Charming? Now there’s a well-meant rebuff.

  Her feelings were hurt, and she closed up, a flower in the dusk.

  “Damn,” he said, sitting up. “I’m sorry, Celestia. You deserve better than this.”

  She raised herself on one elbow, pulling the towel over her nakedness. “It’s okay, mon cher. It could have been pleasant, a welcome distraction. But I know where you’re at—maybe it wasn’t fair of me to pounce on you like a hungry wildcat.” An alluring smile broke out on her face. She didn’t stay chagrined for long.

  “Thanks for understanding.”

  “Maybe another time?”

  “I sincerely hope there will be another time.”

  ~~~

  Worlds away, a liaison between two other partners took a different course. A butterfly and her dragon forged a union, and in doing so, built bridges across dimensions.

  Lotus rode the wave of ecstasy, her lover bringing her to orgasm again in a crescendo of convulsions that left her breathless and spent. She looked at him, saw beyond the cruel visage to the power that lay underneath and reveled in their unholy tryst. Juices flowed out of her for her partner’s delight. He mixed the secretions with his saliva and decanted the peculiar cocktail into a vial.

  “We have been most productive over the last day, my butterfly.” He held the vial up to the light, admiring its qualities with the eye of a connoisseur.

  Lotus didn’t answer. The involuntary contractions still coursed through her legs from the inferno in her feminine depths. Electrical impulses spread upwards through her abdomen to her breasts making the nipples erect and responsive like an electroscope.

  Shamon smiled as her writhing dissipated. “It’s almost impossible to contain isn’t it?”

  She made to speak, but all she could do was breathe in the vapours from the chamber’s incense sticks.

  “Shhh, my butterfly. Words are inadequate.” He leaned over, gazing into her eyes. He could see the guilt shadow her face. She knew he saw this and wondered at her own audacity—to allow such imaginings a place in his sanctum.

  “You still see his face, don’t you?”

  “Jagur, I ...” Trepidation had given her voice. Not a fear borne of threat, but of frustration at her own weakness.

  “It is of no consequence,” he said. “If not for Merrick Whyte, I never would have found you; and if I had, your latent talents would remain stoppered in their bottle. Your brief partnership with him became a herald of our fusion. I have much to thank him for.”

  She reflected on her other life. A life so distant it appeared as a faded photograph in a water-marked album. Feelings for Merrick were purged from her with the carbolic of Jagur Shamon’s regal passion. The knowledge that their shared ardour spanned between worlds made it even more intoxicating.

  Yes, she did think of Merrick sometimes. Poor, naive, devoted Merrick. He had seemed so shocked at their last meeting. Like a wide-eyed gazelle held in the lion’s gaze before the death lunge. The part of her that still harboured emotions for him flickered, then extinguished itself, leaving only a wisp of smoke to mark its passing.

  ~~~

  Chapter 29

  Computer god

  More waiting. Just like at the museum. Merrick had heard it said most wars were spent in this state. Soldiers, with nothing but their thoughts and apprehensions rattling around their skulls. It took a seasoned veteran to cope with these vigils, and Merrick had barely earned his stripes on the field of combat. The only bonus was Celestia’s presence in the car with him.

  “Blue macaw just checking in.” Albany’s voice crackled in Merrick’s earpiece. “Nothing to report yet. The third floor is still dark and no sign of movement.”

  “Oui. I too sense nothing,” Celestia said into her radio.

  “How about you, Mike?”

  “Silent as Marcelle Marsaud in a padded cell, mate.”

  Merrick wiped away the condensation on the Fiat window and looked up at the marbled frontage of the office block. The firm’s name was mounted in expensive lettering at the top, broadcasting its brand to the city. Mike and Rovach were on the roof somewhere, while Albany descended the back wall of the building, suspended from a taut, 1 millimetre gauge steel wire.

  “Corno taglierina? What kind of a company name is that?” Merrick said.

  “It means horn cutter,” Mike said. “And no, it doesn’t mean anything to me either.”

  “Well, it’s hardly a hive of activity. Was your man sure there was a board meeting tonight?”

  “He said the gen was from a reliable source. They’ve been keeping tabs on the company for the last eighteen months. Suspected money laundering and trafficking, but the Guardia di Finanz haven’t enough evidence to make arrests yet.”

  “Are any of their people in on this meeting?”

  “Yeah, they’ve got a plant in middle management. Rococo said we should keep a lookout for him. He’ll be the short guy with a goatee.”

  “How much latitude have we got—officially, I mean?”

  “Officially? None at all. We can watch, but not intervene. If we get their attention in any way, they’ll slip back into the sewers like vaselined snakes and that’ll be the last two year’s surveillance up the Swanee. Rocco will not be happy.”

  Merrick pressed a button on his watch. It flashed 7:50 pm. Ten minutes before the meeting was supposed to start.

  “Tell me what we’re doing here if not to crack a few skulls together,” Albany said

  “There are other ways to neutralise the opposition,” Merrick replied.

  “Such as?”

  “I’ll let you know when I’ve thought of one.”

  “You are to strategy like Ronald McDonald is to architecture.”

  “Shut it, Albany. Speaking of architecture, are you hanging with the gargoyles or have you gained entry yet?”

  “I’m sitting in a rather comfortable padded recliner in a manager’s office—and, by the way, what happened to Blue Macaw?”

 
; “I just couldn’t picture you as a parrot. Are the alarms and cameras disabled?”

  “Of course not. Why would I do that when a bunch of executives are about to walk in the front door? They’ll spend about one second wondering why someone switched off the alarm before summoning security.”

  Merrick chided himself for missing out on the detail. He was hardly inspiring confidence, yet his companions seemed to accept his drift to leadership. The mantle didn’t rest well on his shoulders.

  “It would help if we knew what the security detail is,” he said, changing the subject.

  “That’s what I’m about to check.”

  “Tread carefully,” Celestia said, “silencieux comme une souris.”

  They heard Albany break contact and waited again.

  “Mice? Funny how the only one I can compare us to is Mickey at the moment,” Merrick said at last.

  Celestia raised a pencilled eyebrow. Beating up on yourself again?

  He’s right, though. Apart from observing this outfit, I don’t know how I’m going to disable their operation. He anticipated a confrontation, but there were so many variables, so many things that could go wrong. Here he was risking his close friend’s lives again and they weren’t even at full strength without Arun. This reminded him of Celestia’s incapacity.

  How are the ribs, by the way? He sent.

  Comme ci comme ça. Destain worked marvels. I only have … Wait. They approach.

  A minute later, a Mercedes with blacked out windows pulled up outside the office block. Merrick was hitching a ride on Celestia’s far sense and detected five occupants.

  I know two of them, he sent.

  Who?

  I don’t know exactly. They have familiar signatures. I’ve met them before, but I can’t make out their identities. Let’s hope I can catch a glimpse when they get out of the car.

  Their ear-pieces crackled and Mike’s voice came over. “Can you see what we’re seeing?”

  “Yep,” Merrick said. “And there’s more on the way. Albany, you got anything on security yet?”