HEAR (12 page)

I lift my mug to my lips. I want him to keep talking, but I also don't want to give him the third degree. He's suffering, clearly—not just over the present, but over the past—and I wonder for how long.

“So then you and Figg came here?”

“When Graham learned what had happened, he reached out to me and suggested I join him at Henley, but Chris stayed on at the Agency. He still had the stomach for it, and he had a particular genius for the work.” Brian's tone shifts when he says this; it sounds like less than a compliment. “But it was Ellen who continued to influence me. In fact, she's been the guiding light in my work here at Henley.”

I shake my head, not understanding. “What do you mean by that?”

“I told you we were exploring various aspects of ESP. I'm sure it's been difficult to understand the purpose of many of the experiments I've been conducting, but they are all pieces of a larger mosaic. You see, my goal is figuring out how to amplify the neurological response to improve telepathy and strengthen visions. I won't get into the neuroscience now, but essentially I'm trying to create a booster shot. It should turn the brain into a veritable satellite dish, picking up distant signals and giving us reception on more ‘channels' than we ever dreamed possible.”

I've been watching my uncle's lips move, but I basically stopped listening after he said he was more or less creating
an ESP booster shot.

“Does anyone at Henley know that this is what you're working on?” I ask.

“No, not even Graham knew.”

“But this is huge! Why not tell them at that big Internal Review Board meeting you have coming up?” I'm surprised he hasn't thought of this solution himself. It seems so obvious.

Brian shakes his head. “I can't do that, Kass.”

I make a gesture of bewilderment. “Why not?”

“Because if I tell them how close it is to completion, my research could be co-opted. By people I don't know. If it falls into the wrong hands, the results could be deadly.”

“Deadlier,” I say without thinking.

He pauses. “Deadlier,” he repeats sorrowfully.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I wake up early, drenched in sweat, my mind racing after a jumble of strange and upsetting dreams. The only one I can remember clearly involved jumping out a series of windows with Pankaj, and each time we landed more painfully and more tangled up in each other. Apparently our adventure at the party last night made quite an impression on my subconscious. I decide not to delve too deeply into what my mind makes of this right now because I'm still trying to puzzle through how Uncle Brian made it “mentally easier” for the Assets to follow orders.

Though I itch to get back into Uncle Brian's room, even
I'm
not rash enough to sneak in while he's still in bed. Instead I put on shorts and a T-shirt, lace up my sneakers, and leave a note for him saying I'll meet him at the lab at nine.

I start my run with a series of intervals, sprinting as hard as I can for short bursts of time. Slowly the BDNF, the brain-derived neurotrophic factor, kicks in. BDNF is a protein that protects you from stress by repairing and resetting the brain's equilibrium, which is why running will genuinely calm you and improve your mood.

Yes, there really
is
science behind it.

So though I feel much better by the time I walk into the lab at 8:57
a.m.
, my peace of mind is short-lived. Mara enters behind me, chomping loudly on raw ginger. Pankaj and Dan are already seated; Alex and Uncle Brian have yet to arrive. I glance at Pankaj, but his eyes are cast down as he studiously doodles on a sheet of paper in front of him.

“What happened to you guys last night?” Mara points between Pankaj and me. “I saw you as I came in, and then it was like you both vanished from the party.” She puts emphasis on “
vanished”
as if it implies wrongdoing. I silently curse my great-uncle for encouraging her to go off her meds.

“I had to make a quick exit,” Pankaj says, continuing to avoid my gaze, his hand moving in front of his face to brush back his hair. “I think I might have pissed off one of the hosts. I decided it was better to slip out before he broke my arms.”

Mara turns to me.

“I got a really bad headache and had to get out of there,” I answer, which is not even a total lie. I take my seat, feeling like I've just outsmarted a sphinx.

“Oh, really?” she says. “That must have been awful.”

“ Yeah, it was—” I don't get to finish the thought because suddenly Mara's behind me, and the force of her hands on my shoulders stuns me. Breathing ginger down my neck, she kneads my muscles with her thumbs as if trying to manipulate dried-out Play-Doh.

“Oh, that's, um . . .”
Incredibly painful.

“My mom's a masseuse,” Mara replies evenly. “The tarot cards suggested things would be especially stressful today. And with the gunman who killed Professor Pinberg still on the loose, I want to make sure everyone starts off as relaxed as possible.”

“Thanks,” I say, as her left hand grips the base of my neck and the right pushes my head forward. As she jabs at pressure points behind my ears, I wonder if her mother received training at the Swedish Institute for Massage and Spearfishing. “So,” I grunt, “did you have fun at the party?”

How much does she already know? How much can she sense about what happened between Pankaj and me? I can't help wondering if this changes anything between us. Between
any
of us.

But Mara keeps her own cards close and gives nothing away. “Well,” she says, “When Dan and I were talking, I could sense people were watching us, so I didn't feel invisible. But I don't know if that's good or bad.”

“Bad,” Dan states. “I didn't think it was fun. It made me uncomfortable.”

“Dan”—Mara rolls her eyes—“ You're just going to have to get used to the fact that you're very good-looking, and people are going to stare at you.”

Pankaj and I exchange a quick smile. But Dan's lips are tightly set. He shakes his head.

“I don't like it. Feels exposed, dangerous. And then when I looked for you guys and couldn't find you, I got worried. Thought something bad might have happened.”

I wonder if he too might have been encouraged to go off his meds. “Dan, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I just started seeing flashing lights, and it felt like—”

“Like you were getting a migraine?”

I blink at him. “ Yeah, do you get them too?”

Dan nods. “They're the worst.”

“I get them sometimes too,” Mara says. She finally releases me from her grip with a last karate chop to the shoulders. I wince, and I hope once the pain of the massage wears off I'll feel more relaxed, if only because I've been freed from her claws.

“I get them before bad stuff happens,” Dan clarifies.

“ You want me to give you a reading, Dan?” Mara asks. “We can see if the cards show any of the danger you're feeling.”

Before Dan can answer, Alex enters.

“Everyone have fun last night?” he asks. His voice is slightly hoarse. From the blissful smile on his face and the way he sprawls on his stool, it certainly looks like
he
did.

Brian follows close behind with a plastic bag from the local card store. He closes the door behind him. “Our supplies for today,” he announces with a forced smile. He shakes the bag playfully, but the gesture is wooden. It's as if he's working off a script, going through the motions because he's too anxious to do otherwise.

“What's in the bag, Professor?” Dan asks.

Brian pulls out what looks like a set of flash cards, along with multiple decks of playing cards.

Alex turns to Pankaj. “ You in the market for another watch? Because this might be your lucky day.”

“We have some card sharks among us?” Brian asks.

“Depends what your definition of ‘shark' is,” Pankaj and I say simultaneously.

Brian and Alex laugh. Dan and Mara narrow their eyes.

I sneak a glance at Pankaj.

“Jinx,” he says, staring right back at me.

Brian peels the protective plastic covering off the large flash cards. “These are Zener cards. Each is printed with one of five symbols: a star, circle, square, cross, or wavy lines.” He puts them down and then picks up a deck of the regular cards, standard Bicycles. “These you're probably more familiar with.”

“Some of us maybe
too
familiar.” Alex tilts his head toward Pankaj then winks. “Desai, you and I need to chat later,” he whispers.

“It should be clear now that you all have slightly different skill sets,” Brian continues. “At this point we don't know why, other than simple biology—we all express variation. What we're looking to uncover and work on today are your deficiencies. If, say, you don't speak a particular language, the best way to become fluent is to converse with a native speaker. In the last experiment, Kass was able to shatter a glass by herself. But perhaps with a teammate, you might be able to send it flying across the room.”

“
At
someone?” Mara asks coolly.

“Sorry, sorry . . . Bad example,” Brian says, waving his hands. “The theory is, if two of you train together, you'll reinforce each other through limbic resonance. You'll work in harmony to achieve even greater things. So with these cards, our ultimate goal is not merely to see which one comes next but to
in
fl
uence
which card comes next.” He pauses. “Think of it as an electric current. Who knows how a light works?”

I put up my hand. “ You flip a switch, and then there's light?”

“My niece the comedian.” Brian walks over to the whiteboard. He sketches a battery and a lightbulb, then two wires connecting them. “The flow of electricity is called a current, yes? To harness that electricity, both wires are needed to complete the circuit from battery to bulb.” He retraces the connecting wires then adds hash marks to the top of the lightbulb to indicate it's now lit. “My hypothesis is that if two people with ESP work together, they'll form a circuit, and the metaphoric lightbulb”—he taps his pen against the bulb—“will turn on.”

Over the next twenty
minutes, we each take twenty-five turns trying to guess which Zener card Brian will draw. I get twelve right, thirteen wrong.

I cringe. “Looks like my guessing skills are worse than average.”

Dan shakes his head. “Statistically, guessing averages would come to five right answers out of twenty-five, or twenty percent,” he says. “ Your average was closer to fifty percent.”

“ Yes,” Brian agrees. “Onwards.”

Mara and Dan each get nine. Annoyingly, Pankaj ties my score of twelve, but surprisingly, Alex gets only five right. Then again, considering how much (i.e., how little) sleep he got last night, maybe that should have been predictable.

“On to part two,” Brian says. “Alex, you'll work with me. Mara and Dan, I want you to work together today. Kass, you team up with Pankaj.”

I can feel Mara's eyes on me. I know she's thinking I engineered this.
Not my idea!
I scream to her in my head.

Yeah, right
,
I hear her say.
I warned you.

Her voice comes through so clearly in my ear that it feels like she's directly behind me again. I whirl to face her, but she's across the room, glaring at me icily.

Did you just say something to me, like, telepathically? If so, name your favorite animal.

I wait for a few seconds. I try to anticipate Mara's response. I assume she'll say something ridiculous, like cockatoo or praying mantis. But I hear nothing beyond the sound of my own voice in my head.

Pankaj motions me to a table by the window. “I'll go first,” he says. It's our first real moment alone today, and I wonder if he is going to mention anything about last night. “Don't screw me up, Legacy. I'm pretty good with the cards, so if my percentages go down thanks to your ‘help,' I'll be pissed.”

His smile tells me nothing. I hold the cards out. If this is the way he wants to play it, fine. “It hadn't occurred to me to mess with you,
but now
. . . You ready, Rocket?” I shake my wrist to readjust the placement of my new watch.

We've been going back and forth with the cards for a while when Alex wanders over to us. I glance at him, puzzled, and then suddenly realize Uncle Brian is gone. I've been so focused on Pankaj I didn't even register that Brian had left.

“Professor Black said he needed to make a call,” Alex says. “Something about his ‘very important board meeting.' Then he just cut out of here.”

I'm still not sure if the funding issue and the lab's potential closure is a secret. But it seemed strongly implied that I was not to discuss it. On the other hand, considering the nature of the group, it's likely one or all of them know anyway. It's also possible at least someone here knows how things will ultimately turn out.

“Pinberg's death still has him pretty shaken up, huh?” Pankaj asks me quietly.

I shrug. “I guess so. That and . . .” I bite my lip.

“And what?” Mara and Dan demand in unison.

I shake my head.

“Hey, stop giving Kass here the third degree,” Alex says with another one of his winks. He winks so often it's beginning to strike me as less charming than gimmicky. He turns to Pankaj. “So, kid, about last night. Big score for you, huh?”

I feel my cheeks going red, dismayed that Alex saw us making out. But then it dawns on me that Alex is referring
not
to any perceived hookup but to the watch Pankaj won in the poker game.

“As Kass has learned,” Pankaj replies, “I'm good at cards.”

“Erika was mighty impressed that you got the vintage Rolex off Pat,” Alex says. “I heard he got a little, um . . .
agitated
when you won.”

“Agitated?” Pankaj snorts. “He wanted to break my legs.”

“Come on,” Alex protests, “he's a Henley student, not a barbarian. He would have broken
one
leg at most!”

“Fair point.” Pankaj laughs. “But hey, at least I impressed your new girlfriend.”

“ You actually did,” Alex says seriously. “In fact, she suggested you come to the high-stakes game at the Century Club tonight. What do you say?”

Pankaj rolls his eyes at Alex. “Much as I'd love to dip into their bank accounts, there's only one problem: I can't afford the buy-in for a high-stakes game. You see, I'm what's classically called ‘poor.' You'll explain to Erika the concept of ‘poor,' right?” He makes exaggerated air quotes, his amber eyes gleaming.

In the tense silence, an idea comes to me.

An idea about how to right a wrong.

“If I'm not mistaken,” Pankaj says without so much as a glance in my direction, “it looks like Legacy has a plan?”

“I do,” I reply. “Alex, how high stakes are we talking?”

He shrugs. “These guys have bank. They're trust-fund kids. Serious money.”

“Good. That's what I thought.” I turn back to Pankaj. “ You're in the game. I'm going to stake you.”

That finally wrenches his attention from Alex. “What did you just say?”

“ You heard me. On two conditions: One, we are going to practice every spare minute before the game to make sure you're in top form. And two, you can keep twenty-five percent of the winnings, but the other seventy-five will go to the lab.”

“ You mean put the money toward saving it?” Dan asks.

“ You really think he can win all the money Professor Black needs?” Mara asks, making it clear we're all in on this “secret.”

“Why not?” Alex asks rhetorically. “Our boy here's got game, and besides, the ‘poor' always just seem to try a little harder, don't they?” There's an edge in Alex's voice, one that's perhaps unintentionally revealing. Alex hasn't said anything about his own home life, but that doesn't mean his family couldn't be just as disadvantaged or screwed up as Pankaj's.