Mind's Eye (36 page)

 “Megan, Megan, Megan,”
he interrupted excitedly.
“They’re not with Delamater! They’re US special forces.”

Hall had
read that they had
come after both of them—him primarily—and were told if either he or Megan so much as developed a hangnail, their heads would roll.

“I have no idea how they fit in, but they have strict instructions not to hurt you.”

“Nick, they shot at me! Twice.”

The face of one of the men hunting Megan appeared above her, visible in the eerie glow from the small lights illuminating the pool area. He raised his gun and pointed it at her at point blank range.

“They only shot tranquilizer darts,”
sent Hall, slowing the car dramatically, knowing he couldn’t reach her in time and that he’d be of no use to her dead.

“Megan, I’m going to get you out of this,”
he insisted.
“Somehow. I promise. Take the pill he offers. It’s legit.”

“You have two choices,” whispered the man looming above Megan, and she felt as helpless as if she
were
a wet towel. “This is a dart gun. I can shoot you in the leg and put you out. But that will be more painful than necessary. Or I have a pill in my pocket that will do the same thing. Your choice.”

“Who are you?” said Megan.

The man ignored her. “You have three seconds to choose. If not, the default is shooting you.” He paused. “Three, two . . .”

“Give me the pill,” said Megan.

The man reached in his pocket and handed her a clear green capsule. She placed it in her mouth and swallowed.
“See you on the other side, Nick.”

A tear escaped from the bottom of Nick Hall’s right eye and slid slowly down his cheek.
“Stay strong, Megan,”
he broadcast as he pulled off the side of the road to take his own medicine from the cops behind him.
“And you’ll be seeing me again on this side. You can count on it.”

43

Colonel Justin Girdler was the sole occupant of the lone safe house in the area, in Merced, about fifty miles northwest of Fresno. If this wasn’t enough distance from Hall to avoid being read, then the task was truly hopeless.

Major Mike Campbell, still in North Carolina, appeared on one of his monitors, and both men had a separate screen nearby, each displaying identical video, imagery, and tactical information.

Just before Girdler had touched down in California, Campbell had finally tracked Hall and Emerson to the Homestead Inn. But given Hall’s ESP, they had decided to do nothing but monitor the hotel while they chose the best course of action.

When Hall and Emerson had separated, and the girl was out of Hall’s range, Girdler had decided to seize on this unexpected opportunity. His plan was bold—and risky. He was forced to make numerous assumptions. And if even one of these was wrong, the plan might fail.

But his first assumption, that Megan Emerson was important to Nick Hall, was coming true. The footage of the two of them embracing in Vons was an obvious indication they had a physical relationship. But this didn’t necessarily indicate just how much she might mean to him. What Girdler and Campbell were now seeing on their monitors, however, did.

Girdler watched Hall’s car scream along the road, and he got a sense of speed even from the satellite imagery.
He’s really hauling ass
, he thought, and even in the middle of directing a mission, part of his mind couldn’t help but reflect on what a good pun that would make.
Hall
was
Hall-ing
ass.

“Have you found Megan Emerson on the satellite imagery yet?” he barked at Campbell in annoyance, still not quite able to believe the mission had gotten
this
out of hand, and that the girl had escaped the bungalow and into the night.

“Not yet. But we’re certain she’s still on the grounds. Somewhere.”

“How the hell are the satellites missing her?”

“It’s dark and the contrast isn’t great,” replied the major. “Satellite imagery isn’t magic, and even the IR isn’t infallible. In this case, our men on the ground will find her before the satellite does.” He smiled as an update came in the moment he had made this prediction, just to make a liar out of him. The Satellite had found her first, after all.

“Check that,” said Campbell, and then opened a channel to their team at the Homestead Inn. “The girl is hiding in some kind of container by the pool.”

“Roger that,” said Lieutenant Dan Hubbard, who was nearest to the pool. “She’ll be unconscious in less than a minute.”

Girdler nodded. Unfortunately, the two unknown hostiles who had thrown a wrench in the works on what should have been a routine operation were both dead. He’d have to send a clean-up team to handle that and try to learn who they were, and where they fit in. But first things first.

He turned his attention once more to the most ballsy piece of driving he had ever witnessed. Hall was literally playing Russian Roulette with every red light he encountered. At this rate, Hall was likely to end his
own
life before Girdler did.

“Mike, are you sure Nick Hall and Megan Emerson didn’t have a prior relationship? He’s driving like he’s on
fire
. Like
her
life means more to him than his own.”

“We can’t be sure they didn’t know each other before, but we can’t find any evidence. As far as we can tell, they met for the first time on Friday.”

Before Girdler could ask additional questions, Lieutenant Hubbard reported back that they had found the girl by the pool, as expected. They were now transporting her to the small U-haul truck parked in the lot, propping her up
Weekend at Bernie’s
style and pretending she had had too much to drink.

Meanwhile, on the left half of the monitor, Hall had stopped, and two cops were cautiously approaching him, guns partially drawn.

“Can’t blame the cops for being nervous,” said Campbell from thousands of miles away. “Any maniac driving like that and then refusing to pull over—I’d act the same way.”

“Have you located their commanding officer yet?”

“Coming in . . . now,” said Campbell. “I’ll pull strings and send them packing.”

“Good. Do it fast,” said Girdler.

“Roger that,” said Campbell, who then muted the audio and picked up a phone.

Girdler watched with great interest as the tiny images of the two cops frisked Hall, none too gently. They began a discussion, and from the gestures and body language he could pick up, he guessed they had asked Hall for ID and none was forthcoming. That should hardly have surprised them at this point, thought the colonel.

They appeared to be exchanging heated words with Hall a few minutes later when one of the cops pulled a cell phone from his pocket. Girdler couldn’t read his expression precisely, but he had a perfect idea what he must be feeling. Confusion and anger. If this didn’t piss him off, nothing would.

After a brief conversation, he returned the phone to his pocket, and had an even shorter conversation with his partner. Seconds later they retreated back to their car, shaking their heads the entire way, and drove off into the night, leaving Nick Hall with his mouth wide open.

“Nice work, Mike,” said Girdler. “That set some speed records.”

“Thanks,” said the major, unmuted once again. “More good news. As hoped, Megan Emerson had a cell phone. A disposable, as we guessed. And she’s only ever called a single number. Putting it on screen now.”

Perfect, thought the colonel. So far, everything was going as planned. Well,
as planned
if he didn’t count having one of his men shot, being interfered with by two mysterious bodyguards who were now dead, and Megan Emerson running around the hotel grounds like an invisible rabbit.

“Calling the number now,” said Girdler. “I’m conferencing you in, Mike. But mute your end of the call.”

“Roger that.”

On the monitor, the small, poorly illuminated image of Nick Hall, still standing beside his car, answered his phone without hesitation.
“Who is this?”
he demanded. “If anything happens to Megan, I swear to God I’ll—”

“Nothing will happen to the girl, Nick,” interrupted the colonel, knowing that the way Hall had answered the call, while not definitive, greatly increased the chances he really could read minds. He appeared to be certain the caller wasn’t Megan Emerson, the only person who had his number. Unless he had some other way to know, it was likely he had learned this from the mind of one of Girdler’s men at the hotel. “My name is Justin. Justin Girdler. And my men have Megan Emerson, safe and sound.”

“
Who are you?
” hissed Hall, with a fury hotter than molten lava. “And what do you want?”

If Girdler’s assumptions were correct, Hall already had a very good idea who he was. He had almost certainly already read the minds of Girdler’s team at the hotel, who were told that both Emerson and Hall were the targets of the operation, and neither was to be harmed. Hall had also learned that they were elite members of the US military. Girdler had been counting on him gleaning this information from his men.   

“I’m a special forces colonel,” replied Girdler. He had made sure the team he had deployed wasn’t aware their orders had originated from PsyOps. If Hall had known this was the case, he might immediately guess they were on to his ESP, which wasn’t something Girdler wanted to reveal. “We just need to talk to you, Nick. That’s all. We don’t want to hurt you.”

Hall conducted a rapid search through cyberspace, looking for Girdler’s name in conjunction with
military
, or
special forces
, or
colonel
, but came up with nothing. “So you kidnapped an innocent woman just so you could
chat?
” spat Hall in contempt.

“I have to admit that we screwed the pooch on this one. We thought you were in the room with her,” he lied. “Someone’s head’s gonna roll over this mistake. I apologize about Megan Emerson. Again, we were primarily after you.”

“Why?”

“
Really
, Nick? You can’t guess? We both know you were on the ill-fated
Explorer
expedition. Since
you’re
the only survivor, it occurred to us that maybe you
caused
it. That wouldn’t normally have been the first conclusion we jumped to. But we learned you were alive when we found your prints.
At the site of a double murder
. Sound familiar?”

There was a long pause. “So the US military is now investigating domestic crimes?” Hall asked suspiciously.

“Look, I don’t have time to go over the complex web of US agency jurisdictions. But even if I could, it wouldn’t apply in this case. The
Explorer
was in international waters and was an international story. So I’m in charge. So I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop running and spend some quality time answering questions. Very civilized questions. If you stay where you are, we’ll come to you in a U-Haul truck. Megan Emerson is in the back, unconscious, but not harmed in the slightest. If you take a short road trip with the men inside, rather than attempting to run again, or attempting an ambush, we’ll release her.” He paused. “And you have my word you won’t be harmed.”

Girdler was glad Hall couldn’t see his face right now, or the game would have been up. No words had ever tasted so bitter coming from the colonel’s lips. Deception was one thing. Giving your word to an innocent, helpless man, with full knowledge your
word
didn’t mean shit, was beneath contempt. Girdler felt like puking.

“Yeah. And how do I know I can trust you?”

The colonel took a deep breath and tried to remember why he was taking the actions he was. That the emergence of psionics, or the prevention of such emergence, would be a turning point in human history. “You realize we’re watching you on satellite this second. That’s how we knew you’d been stopped. Obviously, we were the ones who called off the cops.”

“Obviously,” repeated Hall.

“In addition, you’re on a god-damned cell phone. So you’re a painted target. If I wanted you dead, I could send a missile straight up your bony ass this second.”

His reasons for
not
taking this action went far beyond the inability to explain such action to Sobol. Using military assets to fire a missile at a civilian on US soil was only possible, or forgivable, if that civilian were holding a nuclear detonator at the time. But he suspected Hall wouldn’t consider this, so his point would be persuasive.

If Girdler’s guess was right, Hall thought he still had an ace up his sleeve. He had no reason to expect the colonel knew anything about his psionic ability. So Hall would expect to be able to verify Girdler’s trustworthiness for himself five or ten miles out. If he learned the colonel was lying, he would still have plenty of time to escape from men who didn’t know the kind of advantage he could use against them.