Echo 8 (26 page)

He exchanged a quick glance with the director before replying, “I'll try, Doctor.”

Ross opened the door and slipped inside, closing it behind him. He crossed to Goff, crouching beside him, and Tess switched on the intercom.

“… to help you, Professor Goff. When I touch you, you're going to feel desperate for a few moments. Both of us are going to try to relax, and everything's going to be fine. Are you ready?”

Tess's throat tightened as she watched them. Ross gave a grunt of pain, and Goff latched onto him.

“Is this typical?” asked the director.

She nodded. “He'll be fine. He knows what he's doing.”

After ten minutes Ross rose to his feet and returned to the door. Goff met her gaze through the glass, eyes bright with curiosity. He was a little grayer then her Goff and possibly a little thinner.

“We've all had a very long day,” said Garcia. “Let's get some sleep and start fresh tomorrow.”

He called Perez over to escort her and said goodnight. Perez followed as she and Ross headed for the stairs together.

“He didn't know you on his Earth, Doctor,” said Ross as he was exiting at his floor. “But he does now.”

He held her gaze for long enough it seemed significant, and then he turned into the hallway.

She didn't understand it at first. Ross hadn't asked Goff about her. Then she remembered the transfer allowed communication without words.

*   *   *

Shortly after sunrise someone knocked on her door. She'd just finished dressing but was still tying her shoes and called, “Come in.”

Ross stepped inside with coffee and bagels from Espresso Noir.

His transformation was complete. In addition to resuming the uniform, he was freshly shaved, and he'd gelled his dark hair into submission. Special Agent McGinnis was as handsome as the day she'd met him, but her heart ached for the loss of the scruffy version with the warm smile and soft lips.

She felt underdressed in her jeans and sneakers—and it wasn't usually how she dressed on the job—but there was still the possibility of her dislocating, and this time she chose practicality over professionalism.

He set the food on the dining table. “Okay if I join you?”

“Of course.” Her gaze darted to the door he'd left open, and back to his face.

He was staring at her, hard. He shook his head a fraction of an inch, and she understood.
We're not alone.

Would they ever be? Was the whole place bugged? How would she find out where he stood with all this?

Maybe you'll have to trust him
.

But that too was problematic. Trust him to do what? What Garcia was asking of him … was it really all that different from the work Ross had always done? Maybe he'd never used his psi ability to locate and execute targets, but would he second-guess such an order? She liked to think he would, but it was not his job to question the morality of decisions made by his superiors. Tess realized she knew nothing about his politics, and very little about his personal ethics.

Regardless of the choices Ross made for himself, she believed that he would try to help
her
. He had already risked himself by choosing to mislead Garcia, and both lies had made her position more tolerable.

At any rate, Tess sensed that for now she would gain nothing by resisting Garcia. The Bureau had taken possession of Seattle Psi, body and soul, and she knew that whether or not she agreed to help them, she wouldn't be allowed to return to her former life. She was the possessor of damning state secrets, and she'd been labeled a security risk.

She determined to watch and wait, and hope for an opportunity to talk to Ross. It could be that if she kept her head down and stayed out of trouble they would ease up on monitoring her.

“How is Goff?” she asked after they'd sat for a good five minutes in silence.

He drank the last of his coffee and set the cup down. “Doing well. We did a second transfer last night—Garcia doesn't want any more of them walking through walls—but this morning I thought we'd train a couple more agents.”

“Has the director prepared them for what may happen? It took awhile for me to dislocate, but Jake did right away.”

Ross nodded. “They understand the risks. But we definitely need to cover all that with them. As well as explain how we believe it's controlled.”

She held his gaze. “The director understands we're still learning? We may lose some of them. They may disappear and not come back.”

“They're field agents. Dangerous assignments come with the territory.”

She sank against the chair back with a sigh. More potential casualties.

“In the afternoon I thought we could work on the training,” added Ross, returning his gaze to his bagel.

It was the one aspect of her new assignment she was actually anticipating. This was the work she loved, and she was curious about Ross's abilities. Would he be able to relax his control enough to let them develop?

Also, she had limited experience with remote viewing. Though at various times of great interest to the U.S. military and government, remote viewing had become a source of scientific scorn, and with diminished government interest there was little funding for research. But it was really just an amalgam of less complex abilities, such as precognition and clairvoyance, with which she was well versed.

“I'm looking forward to it,” she replied.

*   *   *

Garcia asked Ross to join him offsite for lunch. By the time they came back, she had assembled her materials and equipment in the conference room across from the lab.

“Are you ready, Doctor?” he asked as he took the chair on the opposite side of the table from her. He swung his jacket over the back.

“I am. How about you?”

He smiled, and the sexy eyelids lowered as his eyes moved over her face.

Cocky bastard
.
He's f lirting with me
. She knew him well enough to chalk it up to his feeling unsure about the training and uncomfortable with someone else being in control. But it didn't keep the warmth out of her cheeks. Or her gaze from slipping down to his lips.

Clearing her throat, she picked up the pen in front of her, and she tried to pretend he was just another research subject.

“Do you understand what remote viewing is?”

“I think so. It's what I did to find you.”

She frowned. “On the
Kalakala
, you mean?”

He nodded.

“Why don't you tell me how you did that?”

He picked up a paperclip holder, turning it in his fingers. “At first I tried focusing on you and Jake. That didn't work. But once I let that go, I started getting visuals. They didn't seem relevant, but eventually they led me right to you.”

“Okay, that was an important lesson. Agitated states of mind are not hospitable to psi. Rather than concentrating too hard, it's better to set an intention, and then try to keep your mind open and relaxed.”

“What if I've never met the person before? I mean, I assume I was able to find you because of our”—his gaze drifted up from the paperclips, and her stomach fluttered—“connection. Will this really work with someone I've never met?”

“Good question. And oddly enough, yes. As you discovered, a connection with a person
can
be a hindrance. It can generate interference. And most remote viewing tests involve unknown targets. There was a remote viewer involved in a U.S. Army project who could successfully locate targets he'd never met. He didn't even need a name.”

Ross frowned. “That's pretty hard to believe.”

“Nonetheless true. I'm sure you have clearance to access the particulars, if you'd like to look it up.” She smiled archly, and he raised an eyebrow.

“Why don't we get started?” She pushed a pen and pad of paper across the table and picked up a stack of photographs.

“I don't want you to focus too much on how you're feeling, but again, be aware that relaxed states tend to produce the best results. At some point I'll want to monitor your heart rate and brainwaves, but let's just see how we do for now.”

“So what do I do?”

“In a minute I'll show you a photo. Before I do, I want you to use the pen and paper to record your impressions of the photo. You can use words or images. You can describe shapes, colors, smells, feelings. Whatever comes to you. Put everything down, even if it doesn't seem important.”

Ross looked dubious. “You're not going to tell me anything about the photo?”

“No. You're going to tell me.”

He picked up the pen and frowned at the paper. He clicked the pen open and closed several times.

“What's wrong?”

“When I did this with you, I had a real motivation. I was concerned for your safety.”

His eyes came back to her face, and she shivered. Despite their early animosity, she realized she was feeling nostalgic about the time they'd spent together after Jake's arrival. In the quiet moments between arguments and energy transfers, she'd enjoyed their exchanges. Ross was bright and funny, and he was no Bureau robot.

Not to mention he has a damn sexy mouth
.

“This feels … meaningless,” he continued, frustration coming through in his tone. “How can I guess at a picture when I have no context? No need or motive? That's all it
will
be … guessing.”

“You do have a motive. You've been asked to sharpen your remote viewing skills. This exercise will help you do that.”

He glowered. “You know that's not the same thing.”

“Just take it easy,” she said, breathing deeply and modeling a relaxed posture. “There's no pressure. We're just getting started. I don't have any expectations for these first rounds. We're getting used to working together. You're getting used to the process. Why don't we do the first one, just to get it out of the way?”

Ross exhaled audibly, and he dropped the tip of the pen to the paper. He scooted his chair back and rested his fist on the paper, then his chin on his fist. Suddenly he looked about twenty years younger.

“Did you look at the picture?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“I want to control what we're measuring. If I look at the picture and you describe it accurately, you could be reading
me
. I won't know if you're using telepathy or precognition. There's also a possibility I would subtly react to what you draw and give you cues that guide you.”

“Hmph.”

Tess couldn't help smiling. And she badly wanted to reach out and muss his gelled hair.

He pushed the pen across the paper in a quick, abstract sketch of … the Washington Monument? He tossed the pen down and glared at her.

She turned up the first card, and her breath caught. Not the Washington Monument. But she laid the card down next to his drawing so he could see for himself. The similarity was so striking his eyes widened as he looked at it. The image on the card was the Eiffel Tower.

And so it went for the entire afternoon and well into evening. With each close match his confidence increased to the point he was missing no more than two out of ten. She'd never seen anything like it—his success rate was off the charts.

When they broke for dinner, Garcia joined them and stayed to watch the next session. Tess forced Ross to take more time now, rather than dashing out quick sketches. She had him write descriptions and include details like smells and textures. She used graduated stacks of images, each more complex than the last, and by the third stack his drawings resembled the target almost every time. He pinpointed the geography more than 75 percent of the time, and he identified the feel of the photo—happy or somber, calm or dynamic, hot or cold—more than half the time.

This was good, and this was bad. Her scientist's heart was thrilled and proud as a parent over her subject's success. But there were consequences. If his performance remained consistent, there would be nothing to stop Garcia from carrying his plan to the next phase.

By 8
P.M.
they were both bleary-eyed, and she suggested they call it a night.

“Good work today, Doctor,” said Ross.

She shook her head. “You did all the work. I don't mind telling you I'm completely dumbfounded. I've never seen results like this. But let's see how we do tomorrow.”

“Beginner's luck?”

“Something like that. The novelty of the testing can have a beneficial effect in the beginning. That wears off pretty fast.” Tess rubbed her sore neck. “Don't tell Garcia. You'll give the man a stroke.”

Ross's lips parted to reply, but he seemed to think better of it and turned for the door. “Have a good night, Doctor.”

Tess sank back down in her chair with a sigh. She nibbled a piece of pizza left over from their dinner. If they didn't stop eating takeout she was going to gain twenty pounds.

She wanted to organize and file Ross's drawings, but she got caught up in reading back through them. Trying to hold on to their time together.

But they'd be back at it soon enough. She had to try to figure out a safe way to talk to him. Since that morning she'd assumed they were being monitored everywhere in the building. It wouldn't even take that much effort—Seattle Psi had installed cameras in every room that could potentially be used for training or trials. Garcia seemed to trust Ross. Maybe he'd let him take her offsite for lunch.

Not going to happen
.

She groaned, resting her head on her folded arms.

*   *   *

“Doctor?”

Her head jerked up, and pain shot between her shoulder blades. Why couldn't she open her eyes? Her eyes
were
open. Why couldn't she see? Darkness had swallowed her.

“Ross?” she breathed, frightened.

She heard a faint rustling. His voice was closer this time. “Someone cranked up an old window unit, and the power went out.”