“Now toss me your phone,” said Cam.
Anna lowered her right arm and underhanded the phone to him. He caught it and slid it into his pocket, his gun never wavering. He glanced at her duffel bag on the pavement fifteen feet away from her, but apparently decided it was enough out of her reach to disregard.
Anna cursed under her breath. Since she wasn’t even scheduled to arrive at the school until about now, she would have bet her life that no one, other than the five men already here, would show up for at least twenty more minutes.
Her frown deepened. She had bet her life.
And she had lost.
Her intuition had let her down in a big way, reminding her that it wasn’t perfect, and that she had to be careful not to become too dependent on it. A lesson that she had apparently learned too late.
“Get your right hand back up!” shouted Cam, unhappy that she had kept it near her side after tossing him her phone.
Anna raised her arm up into the air once again, slowly backing away from the tall gunman until she was just a few feet in front of Jimmy on the ground. “I don’t feel well,” she said, doing her best to paste a nauseated look on her face. “I need to sit,” she added, crouching down and then dropping the remaining distance to the pavement onto her butt, nearly landing on Jimmy in the process, and blocking him from view.
“Feel free to puke,” said Cam with a smile. “Just don’t try anything stupid,” he added. “Hector’s gonna keep you in his sights while I call the boss and get instructions.”
“I’m burning up,” croaked Anna, looking like she might pass out. “I need to take off this sweatshirt,” she added, lowering her arms to begin to pull it over her head.
“Freeze!” shouted Hector. “I don’t care if you boil to death, get your hands away from your shirt.”
She did as he requested, but only after she had yanked the sweatshirt up past her navel. Hector immediately noticed the bulletproof vest that was now exposed. “Well done,” he said wryly. “Now that I know you have a vest, I’ll be sure to shoot you between the eyes.”
Anna shook her head in disgust. What was Jimmy waiting for? Did he need a neon sign?
She had pulled up her sweatshirt to uncover the gun hidden in the small of her back, which should now be exposed and facing Jimmy, inches away from his bound hands. She waited several more seconds, but when she didn’t feel the gun slipping quietly from her waistband, as expected, she realized she needed to do more. How could anyone possibly be this stupid?
She faced Hector, her eyes now burning. “Jimmy is a lot smarter than you think!” she said defiantly, the sickly voice she had faked now gone. “He figured out that your boss wants him dead.” Anna paused for just a moment. If this didn’t wake up the idiot behind her, nothing would.
“Do you think Jimmy’s just going to let your partner call Neil Marshall?” she continued. “So Marshall can order you to kill him? Jimmy brought a team of his own here, and they have guns trained on you right now. So drop your weapons!”
Both men broke out into laughter. “Are you kidding?” said Cam. He lowered his phone, deciding that the call to his boss could wait a few more seconds. “That’s the dumbest bluff ever. And here I thought you were supposed to be impressive,” he added derisively.
Adrenaline coursed through Anna’s body as she felt Jimmy pulling the gun from the waistband of her pants.
Finally!
“If Jimmy brought his own muscle,” continued the tall killer, “he wouldn’t be bound and gagged right now, would he?”
“Now!” shouted Anna, throwing herself flat on the ground from her seated position so the unlikely ally behind her would have a clear view of his former comrades. Jimmy began firing the moment her body was out of his way, while she continued rolling away from him as quickly as she could.
Jimmy’s first shot hit Cam in the forehead, turning his brain into soup.
Without wasting an instant, Jimmy turned his gun on Hector and got off three more rounds, but the man was already diving to the ground. One shot missed, one hit Hector’s right shoulder, and one hit his left leg as he flew to the pavement. But before Jimmy could take another shot, Hector came out of his roll and fired, planting a slug deep into Jimmy’s heart, killing him instantly.
Anna scampered to her feet as Hector turned to fire on her. The adrenaline in his body allowed him to aim true, despite a shattered shoulder, but she subconsciously jerked this way and that, somehow dodging his first two bullets. He tried to deliver another, but he was forced to lower his arm as blood continued to gush from his two wounds, and the pain in his shoulder became too great for him to bear.
Anna scooped up her duffel and raced from the scene, tucking her head low as she ran, knowing that she could survive a shot to the body, but that a head shot would be fatal.
Through sheer force of will, Hector managed to lift his arm and take one final shot at the detective, who was seconds away from vanishing into the night. The round slammed into her left upper back before she even heard the crack of the gun. Anna’s body armor was next generation, lighter than ever and better able to dissipate force, but even so the strike was a sledgehammer blow to her back. She screamed in agony and stumbled to the pavement.
Pain exploded through her torso, and her lungs refused to operate. For a few moments she was convinced that her heart had stopped as well as her breathing, but after what seemed an eternity, her body finally sorted itself out and began functioning properly once again.
Anna lifted herself from the ground and continued running, ignoring the pain from an upper back that was now surely stained by a hideous purple-and-black bruise.
Despite having to absorb such a powerful blow, she knew things could have been much worse. And should have been. She was lucky to be alive, and she was now engulfed in darkness. Hector’s injured leg ensured he wouldn’t pursue her.
Anna put some additional distance between herself and Hector and then paused to remove the handgun she had packed in her duffel. She held it at the ready, slipping its silencer attachment into her pocket.
She considered returning to finish Hector off, but she could hear him barking into his phone in the distance, and decided against it. He was no longer a threat, and there was no telling how soon the reinforcements he had just called for might arrive.
Anna reached her car and gunned the engine, screaming away from the school even faster than she had arrived.
But now what?
Should she return home and destroy her computer? She shook her head the instant this occurred to her. This would be a big mistake. She needed to get ahead of the planned frame, but Neil Marshall was bound to anticipate this move and have additional men waiting for her.
She considered becoming a human Ouija board, allowing her subconscious to turn the steering wheel and decide the route she would take, but her intuition abruptly decided to help in a more obvious way.
In a burst of inspiration, she knew exactly where she needed to go.
10
Anna Abbott parked at the main bus terminal in downtown LA and then hoofed it to the Camden International Hotel a mile and a half away, frustrated that she no longer had a phone, which would have enabled her to get a ride in a matter of minutes.
She assumed Neil Marshall and his associates would be tracking her car, so it would make sense to them that she’d abandon it as soon as possible in favor of a bus—to put distance between her and those trying to kill her, and to buy herself time to regroup. Hopefully, by parking where she had, they would be chasing buses all night like a pack of border collies and lose her scent entirely.
She strode into the hotel’s magnificent lobby, still carrying the duffel, and spotted a white house-phone discreetly attached to a wall in a small foyer. Good. That was lucky. She could have forced the manager to give her Vega’s room number by flashing her badge, but she had become understandably paranoid, and preferred to get it by less memorable methods. If this worked, great. If not, her badge was always there to use.
She lifted the phone and dialed 04 for room service. “Hi,” she said cheerfully when it was answered on the second ring. “I’m calling from the hotel lobby. I’d like to surprise my husband with some champagne. Can you send your most expensive bottle up to our room in about thirty minutes.”
“It will be our pleasure.”
“Thanks!” she said, as if this would be her last word before hanging up.
“Wait!” said the attendant. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but since you’re calling from the lobby, your room number doesn’t show on my computer.”
“Right. Of course.” She paused for several seconds. “You know,” she said, as if mildly embarrassed, “I’m not sure I’m even remembering it right. The room is in my husband’s name: Tom Vega.”
There was a brief pause. “Room 925?”
“That sounds right,” said Anna. “Thanks!”
She waited almost a full minute and then dialed 04 once again. “I just ordered champagne to be delivered to room 925 thirty minutes from now. But this might not be ideal timing, after all. Go ahead and cancel the order and I’ll call again when I’ve figured this out. Sorry about that.”
“Not at all,” came the reply. “But I should remind you that room service is only available until eleven.”
“Thanks,” said Anna. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
The detective rode the showy, mirrored elevator to the ninth floor, stood before Vega’s door, and took a deep breath. She made sure no one was in the hall and screwed the silencer onto the end of her gun—in the off chance that she would be forced to use it. The unmistakable thunder of gunfire within the corridors of a bustling high-end hotel would create panic, and would bring hotel security and cops swarming.
She concealed her weapon beneath the folds of her sweatshirt, took a deep breath, and rapped loudly on the door three times in quick succession. “Room service,” she said, trying to disguise her voice as much as possible, well aware of just how cliché this approach really was, and also that it was likely to work.
After a brief silence she heard Vega’s voice calling through the door. “You must have the wrong room,” he said. “I didn’t order anything.”
Anna didn’t respond. A few seconds later she heard the sharp clack of a deadbolt turning and braced herself for action. As the door began to swing inward, the detective stepped inside before Vega could even see who she was and shoved him backwards with considerable force, allowing her momentum to carry her farther into the room.
“Don’t move!” she commanded, pointing the gun at Vega’s head and kicking the door closed behind her. She dropped the duffel to the floor and held her gun on him with both hands.
“Anna?” said Vega questioningly. He shook his head in what seemed like utter confusion. “What’s going on?”
“You’re hiding something from me! That’s what’s going on! And now you’re going to tell me what!”
Vega’s eyes narrowed and he nodded toward the gun. “I thought we decided that I mean you no harm.”
Anna considered. Her instincts on this hadn’t changed, she realized. Still, they weren’t always right, and sometimes her conscious mind had to pull rank, as she had done at the high school after her gut had tried to discourage her from wading into the fray.
“You’re working for Neil Marshall!” she barked. “Admit it!”
“What? I don’t even know a Neil Marshall.”
“Then you’re working for Shane Frey.”
“I’ve never heard of him either. Anna, what’s going on?”
She hadn’t taken her eyes from him since she entered, and she strained to pick up any signals coming from her subconscious. Nothing. Could he really be telling the truth? It still seemed unlikely, despite what her instincts were telling her.
She hadn’t forgotten the lesson she had learned the hard way, just that night. Her hidden mind wasn’t omniscient. Vega seemed to be genuinely shocked, and genuinely clueless, but she was determined to probe further.
“Dangerous people are trying to frame me,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “They’re making it look like I’m on the take. And they just tried to kill me. But you already know that, don’t you? Because you’re in on it!”
“Of course I’m not,” insisted Vega. “But are you okay?” he added in horror, his eyes hurriedly scanning her body for possible injury. “Are you out of danger?”
Vega looked sincerely concerned. More than concerned. Alarmed. Petrified. If he was an actor, he was a great one, able to fool her conscious and subconscious both.
Still, she had to press further, one last time, to be certain. “Don’t pretend to be worried about me!” she barked. “I know you’re involved somehow! While I was at the restaurant with you, my place was broken into, and evidence against me was planted on my computer. Then I was lured to what was supposed to be my death.”
Anna scowled. “You expect me to believe that this was all a coincidence?” she added, shaking her head. “Well I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“I get why you think I’m part of this,” said Vega. “But the timing of this really is a coincidence. Believe me, I would never hurt you. Just the opposite. I’d take a bullet to protect you.”
Anna’s eyes narrowed. He’d take a bullet for her? Where did that come from? She didn’t need instinct to know that this last statement was beyond suspicious, unless it came out of the mouth of a Secret Service agent or a loved one.
“You aren’t really a professor, are you?” she said. “I guessed this was a possibility at dinner, and I was right. And you aren’t writing a paper on me.”
Vega sighed. “No, I’m not a professor,” he said softly. “I lied about that. But I’m not lying when I say that I’d do anything to protect you. To help you in any way I can. What do your instincts say about that?”
“Who are you?” she repeated.
“My name really is Tom Vega. I’m good with computers, and hacked Stanford’s website to set up a fake bio there. I’m a scientist, but not affiliated with any university.”
“What kind of scientist?”
He winced. “The kind that a lot of scientists don’t respect,” he admitted. “Even though I know more about physics and cosmology than most physicists and cosmologists. But over the years I’ve expanded my horizons. I’ve begun to poke around on what you might call the fringes of accepted science.”
“Fringes?” repeated Anna. She thought about this for several long seconds. “So what are you saying,” she continued, “that you’re a—I don’t know—a paranormalist?”
“That’s as good a word for it as any, I suppose.”
Anna shook her head in disgust. Her gut had been strongly suspicious of him, and had known he was hiding major things, but this? She hadn’t pegged him for a lunatic. “So you already knew almost everything I told you tonight, didn’t you?” she said. “That paper I wrote for the psychology blog before I joined the force, on intuition and the subconscious, you already read that, didn’t you? That’s why you pried into my background and my record on the force before you called me. You posed as a research criminologist to get me to go to dinner with you. To gain my trust. So you could study my abilities further.”
Vega sighed. “You’re right, of course,” he said. “But I planned to come clean very soon. Do you think I didn’t know you’d figure it out? If I really thought I could fool you for long, you wouldn’t be the person I’ve been looking for. You knew something was wrong about me from the start. But I had to chance lying to you.”
He frowned. “Come on, Anna,” he added, “would you really have met with me if I had told you I was a paranormalist?”
“Not a chance.”
“Exactly,” said Vega. “So I arranged the meeting under false pretenses. But I planned to tell you the truth after our lunch tomorrow.”
Vega stared deeply into her eyes. “Look, Anna, I’ve spent my entire life searching for someone like you. You have to believe me. I’m certain that you’re the real deal.
And while your intuition is quite special, that’s not all. You have abilities that you aren’t even aware of.”
“That’s ridiculous,” said Anna. “My hunches can be truly remarkable, I agree. And they can seem like magic. But they’re readily explainable by normal science. As opposed to para-normal science. I’m certain I don’t have any paranormal abilities, because I had myself tested once. To see for myself if maybe I could . . . well, if I could read minds. I thought maybe I was doing this sometimes, barely, on a fuzzy, superficial level, and misinterpreting it as pure intuition. So I volunteered for one of those playing card studies. The tester looked at a series of twenty cards, and I had to guess the suit each time.” She shook her head. “I didn’t do any better than random chance would account for.”
“That’s because you can’t read minds,” said Vega. “I already knew that.”
“So what paranormal abilities do you think I have?”
Vega hesitated, and then sighed. “Remember when you said you didn’t like the word, premonition? You said it implied that you could see the future, which isn’t true.”
She nodded.
“Well it is true,” said Vega simply. “You can see the future.”
Anna stared at him for several seconds. “You’re out of your mind.”
“I’m not. You can see the future. I’m convinced of it. Not very much, and not very clearly. You aren’t even aware that you’re doing it. And the information does flow through your subconscious to become part of the data your intuition uses to tip you off. But you’re precognitive. Clairvoyant.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I can prove it to you,” insisted Vega. “And I can give you a scientific explanation for how you do it, too.”
“Which is what you planned to do at lunch tomorrow.”
“That’s right.”
Anna lowered her weapon. Her every instinct continued to tell her that Vega meant her well, and this discussion had convinced both of her minds that he wasn’t a threat. It explained why he looked at her with such awe, and why his ridiculous claim that he would protect her with his life actually rang true.
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