Twenty minutes later on the top floor of the Center, Arthur hunched in front of a computer, typing rapidly. Lydia and Sylvia stood behind him, the woman watching the information crop up on screen as he searched archived files. The security room they were in doubled as a records room. Currently, a few guards were on duty, watching monitors displaying the Cave’s interior from a high angle, the halls of the Center and the dormitories, the entrance tunnel, a few sections Lydia didn’t recognize, the immediate outside area surrounded with hills, and a single road passing by the mountain they hid in. There was also a topographical map of the surrounding area, with blips that sometimes appeared from planes flying by.
Finally, Arthur said, “There!” and lowered his voice, casting suspicious looks at the guards. Lydia found herself doing the same as she and Sylvia bent over his shoulders and peered at the screen. “Simon Dedrick.” A young man smiled, staring off to the side. His boyish blond hair draped over his blue eyes and his face was sharp, his pointed chin like a finger directing them to the rest of the profile below.
“Discharged twenty-three years ago,” Arthur told them. “Back when my predecessor was still running things in California, before the Cave was built for us. Simon could see the future like Heather said.”
“How far?” Lydia asked.
“We could never determine exactly,” he said. “We had never come across someone with that ability before.” He scratched his stubble. “Haven’t since, actually. It was hard to test and the limit of how far seemed to fluctuate.”
Lydia traced the lines to one segment. “He wanted to be an agent?”
“Yeah,” Arthur said. “Did well in training and with the physical tests. But when it came to the psychological tests, he failed.”
“Psychological tests?”
“Before we certify every agent, we give them a series of tests,” he said. “You’ll have to take them, too. They’re meant to profile your behavior, attitude, personality, and mental aptitude for your career as an agent.” He opened a new window with the test results, complete with notes made by the proctors. “Look here. On his tests, there were ‘risks of instability,’ ‘violent tendencies,’ and that he was ‘mentally unfit.’” He propped his chin in his palm. “I remember the proctor telling me that some of his answers were unbecoming of an agent.”
“Such as?” Lydia asked.
“Couldn’t tell me exactly. There’s a disclosure to not discuss anything specific beyond the results. All he told me was that he strongly recommended that Simon not be certified.”
“Did you certify him?” Lydia asked.
“It wasn’t my decision, and my superior sided with the proctor. They were also concerned about how he abused his ability for personal gain—sometimes at others' expense— until he began agent training. He was very persuasive and attracted people to him, but probably because he knew what everybody would already say. They worried he would continue to abuse it.”
Arthur frowned at the picture, a hint of regret flickering across his face. “I admit, I felt a little uneasy about him. He thought very highly of himself after he gained his ability and it went to his head. I wanted to believe he could do it, as he would’ve made a great agent, and I saw the talent in him. I spoke on his behalf, yet he was rejected. Simon came to me later to appeal, begging that I order a reevaluation. But I trusted the final decision and gave into my doubts, rejecting him myself.”
“If there were these risks, why let him go?” Lydia said.
“This was after he had already been deemed fit to be discharged. He came back, wanting to apply. Anyway, we normally assign an agent to check in with discharged BEPs. For Dedrick, my predecessor assigned an extra to regularly drop in, and he doubled the visits after the decision. Shortly after though, he managed to lose them and disappear from our scope. Until now.”
He pulled up another window with Whyte on it, shaking hands with a foreign ambassador. The man was at least two decades Simon’s senior and was radically different. His photographic smile held a pleasant, insincere charm to anyone who studied it long enough, and his face was far more weathered than the youth’s. Even his hair was a mixture of black and gray, a far cry from the blond, and his eyes were no longer two blue pools of water but dark pits like the bottom of the ocean floor.
Lydia peered close at the picture. “Is it him?”
“I couldn’t say for sure,” Arthur said. “He could’ve had plastic surgery. It would explain why we haven’t found him. And when we looked into Whyte, the time he appeared in the business world coincides well with Simon’s disappearance.”
“That’s why he’s targeting the BEP Division then?” Sylvia asked. “Because you rejected him?”
“No, that sounds a little farfetched. But it may have been a catalyst. He didn’t take the rejection well. He was adamant about joining us, often talking about how he wanted to be an agent and eventually change things for the better.”
“Like what?” Lydia asked.
“The quality of our facilities, better solutions to help BEPS reach their fullest potential with their abilities, have BEPs learn to control their abilities at home, all things that we have always wanted anyway and are striving for,” he said, sighing. “Basically talking about how he would run things if he was in charge. Perhaps he said all that to win people to his side. In which case, I suppose the proctor was right about his being unsuitable. Or maybe it’s my fault. I could’ve been more persuasive on his behalf, but my doubts got the better of me.”
“Don’t,” Sylvia said. “You did what was best and still do. You’ve improved things. We’re doing much better helping people with their abilities.” Lydia nodded in agreement. “And you’ve gotten us more funding for this place than we’ve ever had before.”
“If a rejection set him off, then I’m willing to bet he would’ve gone off the deep end eventually,” Lydia said. “You’re a good leader.”
He nodded to them. “Thanks.”
“Maybe it’s not even Dedrick,” Sylvia said. “Maybe there are two BEPs with the same ability.”
“Possible, but unlikely.”
Lydia looked back at the pictures and saw a faint resemblance of Simon in Whyte. The goatee covered the chin, and his hair was a different shade now. But there was something about the eyes. She sensed a familiarity between them that didn’t feel like her imagination. “Either way,” Arthur said, “God help us.”
* * *
Rogues of Overwatch Page 47
