Mind Control: A Science Fiction Telepathy Thriller (Perceivers Book 2) (19 page)

Alone, and feeling a little exposed, not sure whether to look out the window, browse the bookshelves or just stand to attention, he wished he’d made more of an effort to perceive Norm to find out what the hell was going on.

He jumped as the phone rang. He composed himself as it rang once more, then answered. “Hello?”

“Michael?” It was a woman’s voice.

“Yes.”

“At last! I’ve been trying to ring you.”

She sounded familiar, but because he couldn’t perceive her, he wasn’t quite sure who it was. “Sorry,” he said. “My phone got damaged.”

“No wonder it keeps going to voicemail.”

There was something about the way she said ‘voicemail’ that clicked with his memory. “Doctor Page?”

“I wanted to tell you I’ve been doing a bit of digging into Doctor Saul Lucas,” she said, not acknowledging his question, although it was definitely her.

It took a moment for Michael to remember. “Oh, the man who fudged the cure records.”

“That’s him,” said Page. “He was substantially over-qualified to be working in a cure clinic, especially as all he was doing was overseeing injections. Normally that role is given to a nurse. But Lucas has a medical degree and a specialism in neuroscience. He worked in research for many years before he got a job with us.”

“So what was he doing at a cure clinic?” said Michael.

“I’ve been thinking about that,” said Page. “At first I assumed that, as a neuroscientist, he was interested in researching perception, but it must have been obvious even before he took the job that he’s not going to find out anything by injecting a load of teenagers in the arm. So it has to be something to do with that Hetherington kid. As far as I can work out, Lucas quit the job as soon as he forged the records to say Hetherington had been cured.”

“That doesn’t explain why.”

“As far as I can figure out, there are two possibilities,” said Page. “He might have been at the clinic purely to save Hetherington from the cure for some reason – the boy might have been his nephew, the son of a friend, or someone paid him to do it. The other possibility is that he wanted a perceiver for his own research. Hetherington came along, Lucas somehow knew he had strong powers, realised he could work with the boy and so he forged the database and the kid officially became a norm.”

“Why would he be researching perceivers?” said Michael.

“You’d have to perceive him to find that out,” said Page. “Or maybe you could get your police friends to ask him.”

“I suppose,” said Michael, trying to think how the hell he was going to explain all this to Jones and Patterson. “Do you know where Doctor Lucas is now?”

“He went off the radar as far as the neurological research community is concerned. He hasn’t published any papers or anything, but he does seem to be working out of a private lab at UCL. I can text you the details.”

“I haven’t got a phone,” he reminded her.

“Well, maybe you can write it down. Do young people still know how to use a pen and paper?”

“Ha ha.” Michael grabbed a piece of paper from Norm’s desk. It was a uniform requisition form which was blank on the back. He turned it over and found a pen. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Michael wrote, in unpractised spidery writing, the address of Lucas’s lab at the Andrew Huxley Building at University College London on Euston Road.

“While I’ve got you on the phone, Michael, I know you don’t like talking about it, but have you thought any more about seeing your father?”

Michael frowned. “I’ve been busy.”

“He might not be a free man for much longer,” she said. “I don’t mean to pressure you, but …”

So that’s why Norm the Norm had been hiding his thoughts from the other perceivers. He believed Page’s call was about his father, something he knew Michael didn’t want the others at Galen House to know about. It was the sort of consideration he never thought Norm the Norm would have.

“I’ll think about it,” said Michael.

“Good,” said Page, and paused. “Well anyway, I hope that information on Lucas helps.”

“Yeah, it might. Thanks.”

“Goodbye then, Michael.”

“Bye.” He put the receiver back down on the phone base.

It was suddenly quiet in Norm’s office. He read the piece of paper with the address of Lucas’s lab one more time, then folded it up and put it away in his pocket.

~

THE BOOTS OF
five soldiers stomped on the surface of the road, the simultaneous clap of rubber soles sounding out across the camp. Everyone who turned their head to look knew they were perceivers because of the grey uniforms they wore and because they were so young compared to regular soldiers. The uneven-numbered troops looked lopsided without Pauline taking up the sixth position at the rear. Not as if the drill sergeant seemed to care as he marched behind them, shouting, “LEFT! LEFT! LEFT!” to keep them in step.

Michael stopped just outside the entrance to Galen House and watched them pass. In front of him was Alex, changed into a civilian shirt and tie with his jacket hung over one arm. Waiting to be picked up. “Do you remember that?” he said.

“God, yes,” said Michael. They were often made to go out and perform marching drills, even now after basic training was over, but he knew what Alex meant. He meant that first shock of arriving in the Perceivers Corps and being treated like army recruits.

“I don’t get the point of it, I really don’t,” said Alex. “I mean, what does it matter if I’m out of step? I’m still going to get wherever it is we’re going.”

Michael chuckled.

“What?”

“Pauline said something similar.”

The sound of marching boots became distant and the five perceivers with their shouting soldier chaperone disappeared around some trees, heading towards the parade ground.

“What did Norm the Norm want?” said Alex.

“I had a phone call.” Michael let his discomfort about talking about it slip through his perception filters on purpose, suggesting that Alex shouldn’t probe any further. “You in court today?” he said, changing the subject.

“Yeah, not as if my perception is going to be any use. The pathologist is giving evidence. The guy was beaten to death with a hammer, I don’t think she’s likely to lie about it.”

“If I wanted to go to court,” said Michael, “how easy is it to get in?”

“If you commit a crime and get caught, dead easy.”

“No!” Michael nudged Alex in the ribs. “To watch. Like, you know, a member of the public?”

“You just walk into the public gallery. It’s a principle of the legal system that people should be able to see justice being done.”

“Even at the Old Bailey?”

A moment of understanding passed across Alex’s mind. “You want to see the perceivers trial.”

“What’s wrong with that?” said Michael, suddenly feeling defensive.

“Nothing. I thought you weren’t interested, that’s all.”

“I might have changed my mind. I haven’t decided yet.”

“It’s likely to be packed and the press are all over that case,” said Alex. “You’re better off watching it on the television. Reporters are going to look at any teenagers who turn up and wonder if they’re perceivers.”

The sound of an approaching car engine caused Alex to look up. A black Audi A4 was driving towards them. For a moment, Michael thought it might be Hodges, but the number plate was different and the driver was a woman. “This is my ride,” said Alex.

The car drew up to the kerb. Alex opened the back door and threw in his jacket. He was about to get in when Michael stopped him. He’d seen another black car enter the camp, and this one had the right number plate.

“Hodges,” said Michael.

“Is he …?” said Alex.
Doing what you programmed him to do?

“I think so,” said Michael. “I’m not sure.” He tried perceiving Hodges, but at a distance, in a moving car with other people around, it wasn’t easy.

They both watched as Hodges approached and pulled up at the kerb in front of Alex’s car. Hodges unclipped his seatbelt, reached over for something in the passenger seat and got out of the driver’s door. In his hand was a large bunch of flowers, with blooms of red, yellow and purple arching out of their cellophane wrapper on fresh green stalks.

Alex’s chauffeur wound down her window and shouted at Hodges. “Hey, you can’t park there!”

He ignored her, shut the door behind him and headed towards the entrance of Galen House.

Alex turned to Michael. “This is it?”

“Yeah,” he said, suddenly apprehensive.

Alex leant into the car. “I’ll deal with this, I won’t be a minute.”

“We need to leave soon,” said his chauffeur. “Or we’ll get stuck in traffic.”

Alex barely heard her as he and Michael followed Hodges inside the building.

It was just their luck that Norm the Norm was heading to the stairs that led to his office at the same time as Hodges was walking in the other direction. The sight of a man in a suit striding towards him with a bunch of flowers was too much for Norm to ignore.

“Mr Hodges?” said Norm. “What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for Pauline Sarkis,” said Hodges.

“She’s on toilet cleaning duty,” said Norm, “but—”

“Thank you, Sergeant,” said Hodges and walked straight off towards the living quarters, the flowers nodding their red, yellow and purple heads in unison with his movement. Michael tried to perceive him, even though he was retreating. He caught only one thought:
this way
.

He and Alex followed, perceiving Norm’s curious glance as he watched them from the foot of the stairs.

“What’s Hodges doing?” whispered Alex.

“What I asked him to, I hope,” said Michael.

Into the corridor that led to the perceiver quarters, he walked past locked bedroom door after locked door. His mind said only one thing,
this way
, before he branched off into a corridor that led to the washrooms. At the end was a door with a sign indicating the room beyond was only meant for girls. Hodges continued regardless, pushing the door which swung open wide enough for him and the flowers to pass through untouched.

Michael went to follow, but Alex put out a hand to stop him. “That’s the women’s,” he said.

“Not scared of women are you?” said Michael, pushing Alex’s hand aside and stepping forward.

Damp hung in the room and, with it, the perfume of half a dozen shampoos and soaps. Extractor fans struggled to suck out the moisture caused by the morning showers and cleansing routines of the female perceivers. Michael hadn’t been in there before and it struck him that it was very much like the men’s washroom, except where Michael was used to seeing a line of urinals there was another row of sinks.

Ahead of them, Hodges walked down the line of toilet cubicles, slamming his hand against each one so it swung open to reveal no one inside. At the end, he moved onto the showers, looking inside each one until he confirmed they were all empty. He about-turned and walked back the way he had come, directly towards Michael and Alex.

“What’s he doing?” Alex asked.

Michael’s perception found nothing in Hodges’s head other than a couple of phrases:
not in here
…
this way
.

Michael pulled Alex out of the way as Hodges headed straight for the door. He didn’t even acknowledge they were there.

“His mind is …
blank
,” said Alex.

“Like they all were,” said Michael.

They followed Hodges back out into the corridor and to the men’s washroom. Like before, he walked down the line, pushing open all the cubicle doors.

At the third one, he stopped.

Michael drew up behind him, with Alex at his back. They saw Hodges had found Pauline, kneeling beside the toilet bowl with her hair untidily tied back from her haggard face, yellow rubber gloves up to her elbows, a cloth in her hand and a bucket of greenish cleaning fluid next to her.

Hodges put his free hand behind his back like a waiter and bowed towards her, holding out the bunch of flowers. “For you, Miss.”

Michael perceived her surprise and embarrassment as she took the flowers and tried to think of something to say.

With that, Hodges stood up straight and turned to walk out. Michael and Alex stumbled backwards out of the way as, without so much a glance in their direction, he continued out of the washroom.

Pauline, on her knees, peered around the cubicle door to watch him. “What was that about?” she said.

“That’s what Michael programmed him to do,” said Alex. “Right?”

Pauline blushed. She tried to hide her self-consciousness behind her filters, but she wasn’t practiced enough to shield a sudden emotion.

“Yeah,” said Michael.

“What happened to flashing his naked bottom at Norm the Norm?” she said.

“I thought this was less likely to get him fired.” But even as he was talking to Pauline, he was worrying about Hodges. He’d perceived him as he passed and the blankness in his mind was still – worryingly – present. “Look, I’ll see you later, okay?”

Michael rushed after Hodges.

“What do I do with these?” Pauline called after him.

He glanced back to see her holding up the bunch of flowers like the statue of liberty – a messy version of the statue of liberty who was in the middle of cleaning toilets. “Put them in water,” he said.

Michael caught up with Hodges as he left the accommodation wing, striding as purposefully as the perceivers he’d seen marching towards the parade ground.

Norm was standing pretty much where they had left him, a hand resting on the rail of the stairs as he looked out onto the communal space of Galen House with a sense that he wasn’t quite as in control as a commanding officer should be.

“Mr Hodges!” Norm called.

“Morning, Sergeant,” said Hodges, as he approached like everything was perfectly normal.

“Mr Hodges, what are you doing?”

“I have to take Michael to his assignment,” said Hodges. “Why, is there something else you want me to do?”

Michael smiled. He perceived Hodges’s mind was back to normal, full of thoughts about the best route to go to avoid the traffic, whether it would be warm enough in the car to take off his jacket and why the sergeant was glowering at him with such an annoyed expression.