With Stiles, gratitude and loyalty were fleeting and ephemeral things. He sensed the mental command to Shoot Stiles; he’s trying to kill you. Hurry!
When Stan erred on the side of caution and turned his head to look at Stiles, it proved he’d too had sensed that command, implying Immunity was still in effect for the man for now. Rather than risk another bypassed Immune restriction by one of his Tools, Stiles, his gun hastily retrieved from his pocket, arranged for Stan to receive his reward, if any, on the other side of life. He put a bullet through his startled and widening right eye.
Stiles promptly lifted his head to see Grayson standing in the middle of the street, a grimace of pain on his face, both arms hanging at his sides, his right forearm bloody, the blood dripping from his loose fingertips. There was a black semi-automatic pistol at his feet, and he’d straightened as Stiles spoke as if he had tried to retrieve his gun.
“Don’t’ move, mister BII hotshot.” Stiles sported a nasty smirk as he aimed his gun at Stiles, and brushed glass fragments adhering to the side of his sweaty face, and off his expensive suit coat.
“This is better than sending a lynch mob to kill you. I might not get to see that.”
Drop your gun, and freeze!
His Immunity enhanced directional sense drew his attention to someone standing at the side entrance to the Tower, with disheveled hair, and a still unfastened gown flapping in a cool breeze.
He laughed with genuine delight as he looked her up and down. “That doesn’t work on me lady; I’m a Controller. But I can tell where a command comes from when I have temporary Immunity, thanks to your brat. Although, I don't have a clue how you got Compeller ability.”
This time she spoke aloud, realizing thought control wouldn’t work on him. “I think you and Doc Fallon caused it when you wanted to wake me up so bad. What did you do to me?”
Stiles knew she was stalling, trying to delay the inevitable, but relishing victories had been in short supply for him today.
“Fallon thought it might kill you, but I made him zap you with a double dose of adrenaline, while I mentally tried to force you to respond to me. I don’t know if that combination did it, and it doesn’t matter now.” He laughed again.
“Danny boy here gets to see me kill you first before I do him.” Keeping his aim on the more dangerous and closer Grayson, Stiles rested his arm on the door because he was feeling a bit tremulous at having been so near death in the last few minutes. He hadn't felt that level of fear since he was thirteen when Grub and Pickling had ganged up on him. The same day he discovered his ability.
One more glance at Grayson showed he continued to stand motionless, his arms hanging straight down, his budget suit coat open and one side flapping at his bloody hand in the breeze. The man’s eyes blazed hatred at Stiles, and never deviated, even as Stiles shifted his aim to the right, in the general direction of Barbra Grayson. He never took his eyes off Grayson, hoping to see despair, fear, hopelessness, any emotion besides hate. But nothing changed.
He knew it would change to grief when he killed his wife. He shifted his attention to the woman, standing over fifty feet away. He wasn’t an expert shot, always relying on his mind for his advantage. He wanted to pull this off with his first shot if possible.
He looked down the short barrel and considered the height and distance, closed one eye and gently touched the trigger for a soft squeeze. A shot rang out, but his gun hadn’t bucked in recoil.
Then there was another shot, and he felt a pain low in his side, and he squeezed the trigger in a spasm of pain, as more shots sounded. He looked at Grayson who hadn’t taken a single step in his direction, and both arms were still at his side.
No! the man’s left arm wasn’t hanging quite as low, and it wasn’t the wind blowing that coat flap wider. There was smoke there near his waist. More smoke erupted as additional bullets ripped out of the coat pocket, and one tore into his left shoulder, another entered the side of his chest. Stiles squeezed off another shot, but this one went wild. A fourth or fifth bullet of a flurry of shots from Grayson hit his gun hand, as the man improved his left-handed aim by raising the gun inside his jacket pocket more in line with his eyesight.
The gun slipped from Stiles shattered right hand, and Grayson moved closer, quickly. He came within a few feet of the window, verifying there wasn’t anyone else inside the car to offer a threat, and that Stiles didn’t have another weapon.
Stiles pressed his bloody right hand to his left chest, where blood was starting to ooze. Blood appeared on his left shoulder, just below the socket, the bone probably broken.
Grayson pulled the gun from his left pocket. “This one belonged to Lester, I think. Your transmitter protector.”
Stiles groaned but said through gritted teeth, “Don’t be so smug. It was a long way, but I shot your wife.”
Grayson whipped his head around and saw Barb was on the ground.
Did you think I was a dumb blonde, you bastard? I ducked. Came the prompt mental message.
Grayson laughed in relief as he saw her get to her feet. He turned back to Stiles. “This just isn’t your day, mister hotshot.”
“Fine, arrest me. Get me to a hospital and make everyone immune so they can work on me.”
“Arrest you? I’m a BII agent, not a local cop. I don't arrest people. Besides, you went out in a blaze of glory, fighting to the end. That makes for a better news story, don’t you think?”
“Don’t be a wise-ass; I’m bleeding internally. I’m in pain.”
“Right. How thoughtless of me. Say Hi to Lester when you see him in Hell. Please return his bullets.” With that, he stepped back a couple more feet and shot the Controller in the head, the bullet tearing through the brain organ that had made him so dangerous.
****
Brogan came down hard on him. “Dan, I’m docking you for the week’s leave I had to advance you while waiting for the DOJ to spring you from investigations by the LMPD and the State of Kentucky.”
He repeated his most common complaint as Superintendent of the smallest, and least known and understood intelligence bureau. “Nobody ever knows who the Hell we are, or what extralegal authority my agents have when acting within the designated parameters.”
Grayson now had a protest of his own. “Wait! What? There are designated parameters? When the Hell were you going to tell me what they are?”
“Uhh, they’re still evolving,” Brogan admitted. “In fact, one new parameter was defined only this past week.”
“Is that related to what I did? What was it?”
“It’s confidential until the President signs off on the Executive Order.”
“How would I know what we can legally do if I don’t know these parameters? Did I miss that class when you rushed my ass off to Korea on my first day here?”
“Odd. That didn’t seem to concern you when you traveled to Louisville despite the president ordering all BII agents restricted to the Washington area. Oh, and you didn’t seem concerned when you publically blew the brains out of the only psychopathic murderous Controller in America. With witnesses of the killing.”
“Aha. Was that the new parameter I caused you to create?”
“No. Don’t be ridiculous. That was already a parameter. I’ll tell everyone when the President signs the new order.”
Mike brought up a matter that had puzzled him since he heard Dan tell the tale at his initial after-action briefing on his return. “All you did was tell Barb to do what I did?” How did she, or you for that matter, know that she could Compel anyone?”
Dan shrugged. “From the time I joined her in the lobby, it was apparent she would have Immunity that my broadcast gave everyone, and then Stacy renewed that. But when Stiles threatened to have one of his men shoot Carl to force Stacy to put down her shotgun, Barb knew if she did that Stiles would have her too, and he’d kill all of us. She did something that confused me initially but became clear. She shouted at Stacy, saying ‘Don’t do it baby!’ but I also sensed her men
tally at the same time. I sensed a mental command that matched her spoken words.
“In her fear for Stacy’s safety, she transmitted a thought Compulsion. When I heard Stacy ask if that was her mother she sensed, it proved that she’d received it too, so it wasn’t my imagination. Even if I was wrong, we were out of options, so I told Barb to do what you did in the Elizabethtown food court when you met her and Stacy. That was for her to try to use Complel ability, as you had.”
“That was a big risk. Glad it worked,” Mike offered.
“That was the smaller of two risks Mike. All of Stiles men were Susceptibles that had received temporary Immunity, first from my broadcast, and later directly from Stacy. Not even Stiles could Control them. I needed Barb to do what Stiles had failed to do.”
Brogan blurted, “Damn, I’d known from the outcome Barb was a new Compeller, but you mean she can Compel Immunes? Even Stiles couldn’t do that. That’s a scary development for protecting our government.”
“Nope. That’s not the new development. It had occurred to me at that moment that Stacy and I can confer Immunity on anyone by sending an unmodulated signal that temporarily activates that capacity when we tell them to ignore outside thoughts. I thought, why can’t I send a signal that reverses Immunity?
“Before I slid the laptop towards Jackson, I sent a reverse Immunity message to allow external thoughts to reach both of Stiles gunmen, and to Carl.”
“Barb was only able to get through because I made them Susceptibles again. That was the bigger risk. I was also afraid Stiles would sense what I did because a Controller would be stronger than Barb as a Compeller. But he apparently only sensed the commands she sent, making Anson shoot Jackson, and then forcing Anson to freeze. She even made Carl drop to the floor, so Stacy and I had clear shots.”
“Still, you demonstrated that transferred Immunity that lingers could instantly be reversed,” Brogan emphasized. “We were hoping we could broadcast signals as you did in Louisville to protect large populations. We need to rethink that, and do more testing.”
“Easy come easy go.” Grayson was nonchalant about his new revelation.
“By the way, do I get a finders fee for recovered stolen cash? I didn’t just sit on my butt the week I was under investigation in Louisville, boss. I earned that.
“Arm in a sling,” he waved his right arm’s cast, “I led the FBI to a safehouse Stiles set up in Jeffersonville, next to a park. Doc Fallon was also helpful in that because Barb sharpened her new Compeller skills on him and a few other of Stiles former Shields and Tools.
“She found his accountant, and I found the safehouse. There were nearly nine million dollars in cash at the safehouse. The accountant that Barb made talk revealed where more of Stiles money was hidden, in a numbered offshore account. Nearly twelve million dollars is in that one. Fourteen million went to buy some property near Chicago and was invested in technology and hired help, to make those transmitter systems he had in Louisville. The FBI will have a report and full accounting of recovered cash next month.”
Brogan chuckled. “Lucky you, Dan. You can’t get crap for the safehouse cash recovery. You did that in the line of duty.”
“I was on leave.”
“No, you were held for an investigation concerning multiple deaths and released on your own recognizance to cooperate with the FBI on a joint case with the BII. I had to dock you the unearned leave time for the sake of discipline when the President learned I had a rogue agent who had left the Washington area.”
“You knew where I was.”
“Allegedly.” He smiled. “No finder’s fee for you in any case, on leave or not. You work for the government, and that was work product. The same rule applies to the FBI and the LMPD for that matter. You didn’t get reward money for arresting wanted criminals when you worked there either.”
“Damn. I wanted a new car. I can’t pry my Charger out of my daughter’s hands now. Not after what she went through for me.”
“Well, I’d think she could afford to buy a car on her own now, with her salary.”
“Huh?”
“You’re her father. Do you even talk to her? She signed up to be a BII agent yesterday. She was sworn in with her mother.”
“What? Both of them?”
Mike had a choice comment to go with his grin. “Hmm. You don’t talk to your daughter or your wife. You don’t sound like good family material to me.”
Grayson was indignant. “Brogan, you knew this in advance. You had to. You kept it from me.”
“I’m obligated to honor the wishes of new agents regarding their career choices, including not notifying the family of their decisions. They didn’t want you to know, in case you wished to voice opinions they preferred not to hear until it was too late.”
“That’s not fair. I have good reasons to want them away from the trouble I know is coming.”
“Dan. They had a legal need to get away from the trouble they were in already. At least Stacy was facing local investigation for shooting two men. The new law regulating the unauthorized use of psych ability on US citizens hasn’t passed yet, but it might be applied retroactively. Then they would apply to Barb’s use of her ability, which led to the deaths of two men working for Stiles. You and Stacy shot them, so it's very convoluted laying blame. Joining the BII was an easier path for them. A path they were willing, even eager to take, I might add.”
“How did joining the BII release them from a prior liability for the deaths of the criminals that worked for Stiles? It was self-defense anyway. Barb was a kidnap victim and hostage, and they tried to shoot Stacy.”
“Trials can be messy, and confusing. As BII agents, some of the parameters I was alluding to will protect them from certain classes of criminal prosecution. Such as the deaths that may result from their actions while protecting the United States from threats posed by hostile psych ability, or excused from harm to innocent forces a hostile psych compels to act for them. I don't think you’d question that Stiles was a hostile psych and that his Tools and Shields that served him where his forces.”
“So as BII agents, they can’t be prosecuted for what happened with Stiles or his men?”
Mike pretended exasperation. “That what he’s saying, Dan. Jeez, you seem to be slow on the uptake today. Wish you were that slow before you broke my foot and nose in Seoul.”
Dan glared at his friend over that same tired complaint, but he spoke to Brogan. “What about Carl? He has nothing to offer the BII, and he helped gain the release of my wife. There were shootings involved.”
“LMPD forensics checked that rifle and discovered it didn’t belong to Carl, Stacy admitted removing it from her Uncle’s house, and it had your fingerprints on the trigger and hand rest. You even stated you used that rifle to shoot at the car leaving the garage and carrying Stiles, and a bullet you fired killed one of his men in that car. Coincidentally, another of the men working for Stiles died from a bullet fired from that rifle in the parking garage.
“I repeat, there are extralegal parameters that protect you Dan, a BII agent from prosecution, and there’s no evidence or any eyewitnesses that are willing to implicate Carl.”
Dan wasn’t feeling all that much appeased. “That’s just fine for you, isn’t it? Two new agents and the strongest hostile Controller in America is dead. Now my entire family is involved in this madness.”
A cheerful Mike said, “It’s all good news, Dan. There’s an old saying that’s close enough to this situation. The family that psychs together…, uhh….” He couldn’t think of a rhyming word to finish his paraphrase of the Bible’s popular phrase from Proverbs 22:6.
“You mean we’ll fight together?” Dan finished the paraphrase for him. “The family that psychs together fights together?” He shook his head in disbelief.
“I can’t tell you how reassuring that is to me, Mike. I literally can’t tell you because that prospect worries the crap out of me.”
“Sorry Dan, I was trying to lighten your mood. That was a poo
r attempt.”
“I know, and it isn’t your fault. Stiles dragged all three of us into this web of psych intrigue. At some point, it was going to involve us anyway because the entire world is going to be involved. I’d wanted to protect not only my family but other people. That’s what I set out to do when I became a cop. Only this is on a far larger scale. I don't know if even the BII is up to the task. One powerful Controller like Stiles, with a transmitter, can do so much damage.”
Brogan proved to be a fountain of unwelcome news this morning. “Do you two recall my mentioning our mutual psych defense agreement with Israel? They’ll provide us with their technique for activating recessive psych genes if they work when we send them samples of Mind Control transmission systems, and people experienced with them. You two are those people.
“The two mental signal detectors you acquired from stiles are smaller than those our lab has built so far, but the FBI obtained several more units from Arthur Stanton, the engineer Stiles hired to design his. He’s being very cooperative and thus avoiding prosecution for theft of a prototype from DARPA. He has designs and specifications we’ll use and share with Israel. I’ll need you two to take the design plans, and a working system with you when you go next week.”
“You’re going to use Stiles’ engineer?” Grayson thought that sounded wrong, and said so.
“At the end of World War II, Russia and the West scrambled to acquire German rocket scientists and engineers for each of their programs. There are far fewer mind control technology experts. We need him.”
“What do we get in return from Israel?” Mike wanted to know. “Have they perfected gene activation? It can’t be all that hard. Stiles and Fallon activated the Compeller gene inadvertently with Barb.”
“They plan to do it more gently, I understand, but it’s still stressful. Israel says they have to elevate natural hormonal levels for a week or two, then shock the system, somewhat as Fallon did with your wife, Dan, using Epinephrine. Israeli scientists have never done what happened with Barb because they haven’t had anyone with both a recessive Compeller gene and an Immune recessive gene. They don’t know if they can activate both at the same time as happened to her.”
Controller: Controller Trilogy, Book 1 Page 40