Tessa (Tessa Extra-Sensory Agent Book 1)

by Kfir Luzzatto

  “No training today. You can rest and take it easy until tonight, when the meeting in Davos is scheduled to begin.”

  “Oh,” I said, feigning surprise, “I thought you had training planned for today. That’s what the schedule said, if I remember right.”

  “It did, but I decided not to overload the equipment. You are in great form anyway, and more training is not necessary.”

  “Fine by me,” I said. “I’ll go for a stroll. The air here is superb.”

  “You can go, provided that Tom remains close to you. I know that you didn’t let him stay near, yesterday, and that’s against the director’s instructions.”

  “Oh, okay. Whatever, I don’t care,” I said.

  “Good,” said Doctor Alexander, and nodded to Tom, as if to grant permission to go.

  After breakfast, with Tom dutifully at my side, I walked up the hill. We reached the summit, and I picked a place from which the chalet was not in view to sit down. Tom sat beside me, courteously keeping enough distance to give me some basic privacy. I gazed at him and was surprised to see that he wore a thoughtful and even a tormented expression on his face. Was he the one charged with killing me? Perhaps he was and the thought was tormenting him, which was a credit to him, but no help to me. These Secret Service guys are all duty and service, and if his job was to terminate me, terminate me he would, no matter how much it pained him to do it. I had to know more, to get prepared for whatever was in store for me.

  I closed my eyes, breathed in the cool, healthy Swiss air, and opened my head to Tom. In a split second I was in his head and what I saw amazed me. He wasn’t sad because he had orders to kill me; he had just lost his mother, who had passed away on the day of our departure. He hadn’t been able to attend her funeral and that was weighing on him immensely. I kept listening to his thoughts, and the Tom who revealed himself to me was completely different from what I had expected—a gentle, delicate man, quite the opposite of your stereotypical Secret Service agent.

  Have I already said that I am an opportunist? Well, I am, and I saw an opportunity here. In the shitty situation in which I found myself, I needed a friend, if not an ally, and perhaps Tom was the one. I gazed at him and spoke softly.

  “Tom, why don’t you come sit here beside me?” I said, in an inviting tone.

  Tom’s head jerked up in surprise, and he took a few seconds to respond.

  “As you wish, Miss Tessa,” he said. Trained to obey without questioning motive, he came to sit on the grass next to me.

  “Tell me, Tom, do you have family?”

  “Only my father and one brother.”

  “Oh. What about your mother?”

  “She passed away. Yesterday,” Tom said, visibly a prey to a strong emotion.

  I placed a hand on his arm and squeezed it. You don’t need to tell me that I’m a manipulative bitch. I know I am, and you would have done the same in my place. But then something unexpected happened—I started to identify with him and his torment. Being inside his mind I could actually feel it, pretty much like he felt it, and a genuine need to ease his pain took over, pushing my manipulative needs to the background.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that,” I said, and my eyes were moist as I said it.

  “Thank you, you’re very kind.”

  “Tell me about her. Were you two close?”

  “Oh, yes. Close. Very close.”

  It was like opening a dam. Tom started telling stories about his mother. He went on and on, until at last his voice broke and I saw stealthy tears forming in his eyes. I felt awful, I swear, using his feelings like that, but I consoled myself that I wasn’t doing anything wrong or bad to him. On the contrary, I was allowing him to vent his sorrow, to grieve, which was what he needed right then.

  I got up and went to sit on my knees before him. He turned his head so I wouldn’t see his emotion, but I touched his chin and he turned it back.

  “Don’t be ashamed,” I said, speaking softly, “let it out. It’s good for you. You need to mourn.”

  “I … I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have …”

  “Nonsense!” I said. I hugged him gently. At first he resisted, but then he yielded to the embrace. We remained like that for a minute or so, with him trying to contain his sobs so I wouldn’t hear, and me feigning to ignore them. I probed his mind and saw relief there, and then I released the embrace.

  “Feeling better?” I asked.

  Tom had wiped the tears from his eyes surreptitiously before releasing the hug, but his eyes were red. He nodded, attempting a smile.

  “I apologize. You are a wonderful person, but I shouldn’t have lost my bearings like I did.” He really sounded abashed.

  “Listen, Tom, if you don’t stop apologizing, you’ll be in trouble with me. It’s all understood and perfectly human. We aren’t going to tell anybody about this, okay?”

  “Thank you so much,” he said, almost choking on his words.

  I stoked his arm in a friendly way. “Don’t mention it. This is what friends do, and if it helped a little, I’m glad. Now let’s sit here and enjoy the view. When you feel ready we can go back.”

  Tom nodded, and we remained sitting there for a few more minutes. I used the time to probe his mind again and was pleased to see how grateful he was to me and how warmly he thought of me. Hopefully one less in the gang that I needed to watch my back against.

  CHAPTER 12

  Back at the chalet, I ran into Doctor Alexander.

  “How was your stroll?” he asked.

  “Good. If you need me, you’ll find me on the porch. I have a book to finish.”

  I actually had a book with me, and I took it outside, where I sat reading and enjoying the fine air. It was very soothing to sit in a silence only broken now and then by the sound of a cow bell. Every ten minutes or so I opened my mind and listened in to Doctor Alexander, but he had nothing new to share with me. His mind was actually pretty unpleasant to probe, and poking around in it felt like wading knee deep in smelly, murky water. Still, I had to be alert to any development that could be dangerous to me, so I had to spend some time there.

  I didn’t need telepathy to tell me when grub was ready—a delicious smell made my tummy rumble, so I closed my book and went inside. We had lunch, and the doctor insisted that I eat everything on the menu, which I did happily, since walking outside had made me famished. Doctor Alexander kept fawning over me throughout lunch, asking me how I liked this or that, and had I had enough of the other stuff, which was creepy. It felt like he was fattening me up for the slaughter.

  “Will you stop mothering me?” I exploded after a while. “You’re not a damn hen looking after her chick.”

  That man had the skin of an elephant. Instead of being offended and getting mad, as he should have, he simply said that tonight would be my first full-time telepathic connection, and I had to keep my strength up.

  After lunch, I went outside again, but couldn’t bring myself to continue reading, so I spent time gazing at a cow and trying in vain to get into its head. I did that for quite some time, but since the afternoon had become chilly, I walked back inside and up to my room to take a rest.

  So here we were, ready for the real thing, and I admit that I was tense. I was going to get into Mary’s head without knowing for how long I had to stay there and what would happen. Doctor Alexander had insisted that I lay on my bed to save every ounce of my strength. He was sitting beside me, which I didn’t like a bit, because I needed to turn the pisspot off as soon as possible, before it fried my brain cells, and with him there I couldn’t do it without him noticing.

  “I need you to break contact periodically to report what you see,” he said.

  “I will, but I wish you wouldn’t sit by my bed. It makes me nervous and impedes concentration, and if I can’t concentrate I can’t connect properly. Why don’t you go away, and I’ll call you when I have anything to report?”

  “Hmm, but what if there is a problem and you need help?”

  “I�
��ll yell.”

  “Wait,” he said, suddenly brightening up. He jumped up and left, soon to return with a box. “Here, take this walkie-talkie. All you have to do is push this button if you need anything, and I’ll come immediately.”

  “Brilliant idea, Doctor,” I said, smiling—something he didn’t get from me often. “Now please dim the light and let me get to work.”

  I turned the pisspot on and surreptitiously moved the intensity knob close to zero. Doctor Alexander nodded, murmured a “Good luck,” and left. I immediately turned the pisspot off altogether and resisted the impulse to look for Liv. It was time to get down to real work, but before doing that I needed an update on what was being planned for me. I got into Doctor Alexander’s mind again and found him sitting in his room and gazing out of the window. He had let his mind wonder and was fixing his gaze on the same cow I had contemplated earlier, which seemed to be a fixture there. Nothing interesting going on there, I concluded, and broke contact.

  CHAPTER 13

  I recalled Mary’s face as I had seen it in the photographs. I had two of them with me. She had distinctive features—small nose, black eyes framed by chestnut red hair, which she kept almost to her shoulders. She had milky-white skin, and a nice, slim figure with slightly oversize boobs. She was thirtyish and not at all unattractive, although from her pictures she came across as a bit cold. I would have kicked myself for not asking more questions about her, but I had enough to create a contact with her and, anyways, I would learn more about her when I was in her head. I took a couple of deep breaths and brought her image to life before my closed eyes. Then, I opened my head to the world and searched for her. Searching turned out to be more challenging than in the past, as my vision jumped from one mind to another. It only took me a second to realize when I was not in the right person’s head and to keep searching, but after a while I felt a bit dizzy. Luckily, the fourth attempt was successful.

  “Good evening, Miss Payne,” a Swiss receptionist was saying to her. “Your room is ready. I’ll escort you to it.”

  I—in Mary’s head—followed the receptionist to a small wood-paneled elevator and along a luxurious corridor, where he stopped before room 403, opened the door, and let Mary in. The room was spacious and smelled of pine wood. For a moment, the smell surprised me, because so far my targets had always been either in the same room with me or somewhere neutral like a bare hilltop, and I hadn’t fully realized that I would be able to smell what my target smelled. But being able to do it stood to reason, since every sense somehow gets analyzed by the brain, and my brain was hooked into hers.

  “Your secretary’s room is on the first floor, room one-one-seven,” said the receptionist. “To call another room you dial nine and then the room number. The air conditioning can be switched on here, and the minibar is there, under the TV set. If you need anything, just dial zero.”

  “Thank you very much, I will,” said Mary, but she was thinking, go away already!

  Mary dropped her handbag on the bed, sat sinking in the soft mattress, and picked up the phone. She dialed 9117, and a man’s voice answered her.

  “Yes?”

  “Jason, I’ve arrived. I’m in four-oh-three. I’m exhausted, and I’m going to take a nap. When do I have to be ready?”

  “Oh, first of all, welcome. The delegations will hold a cocktail at eight, followed by dinner. You need to be there.”

  “All right. Check with me at seven thirty,” she said, and hung up.

  I disconnected from Mary and pushed the walkie-talkie button. When I heard steps outside I turned the pisspot on and as soon as Doctor Alexander stood beside my bed, I ostentatiously turned it off and took it off my head.

  “What’s happening? Did you make contact?” he asked.

  “Nothing much. She has arrived and is taking a nap, which I also plan on doing. Please send some food to my room. I need the rest, and I have to keep my strength. They have a cocktail at eight, followed by dinner. I don’t think that much is going to happen then, but I will tune in for orientation. Do you agree?”

  “Yes, yes. That sounds reasonable. I’ll go to report to the director and will have food sent up to your room.”

  “Send the food first, please? I’m starving, and I need my rest.”

  After eating everything that was brought to me on a tray, I closed my eyes and went to sleep. That is one of my best skills—I can sleep on demand anywhere, any time, and I am asleep in a matter of seconds. You can’t imagine how helpful that is to keep me fresh and alert, and more importantly, to keep me from getting bored if I’m left to wait for a long time, as regularly happened at the base between viewing sessions. Those long, boring sessions took place in empty, whitewashed rooms, with only a chair, a table, drawing pad and pencil, and nothing to entertain me beside myself, and believe me, I can be pretty boring without any outside stimuli.

  I had had to surrender my cellphone on arrival at the base and was issued a small alarm clock to help me keep time. I woke up when it buzzed, and for a moment I felt an irrational sense of loss, remembering the soft chime that was my phone’s wake-up tune. The hour was seven thirty and time for me to get to work. I pushed the walkie-talkie button and said “Coffee!” into the mike. I didn’t feel like being polite. Five minutes later, Tom knocked on my door and brought in a tray with a small coffee pot and a croissant. “To keep your strength up,” he said, smiling hopefully, and was rewarded with a warm smile from me. I like croissants. I think he blushed as he left.

  I placed the pisspot on my head, propped against a pillow so the on-off switch would be hidden by it if anybody walked in on me unexpectedly. The inner straps that kept it positioned on my head, like a helmet, had begun to irritate my scalp. Those straps had a number of electrodes in them, which had to be in contact with my head for the amplification to take place, or so it had been explained to me. I used the pillow to lift the pisspot a little higher, to avoid direct contact with them. It was a tricky setup, but it would deceive anybody who didn’t suspect that I had no need for amplification. I closed my eyes and searched for Mary. Loud voices reached me immediately, and I found myself in a splendidly ornate grand room, with a taste of champagne in my mouth that made my tongue tingle with surprised pleasure. Mary was talking to a tall, thin man in his fifties with butterscotch hair and the whitest complexion I have ever seen.

  “My government truly appreciates your government’s help in setting up this important meeting,” she said, from which I inferred that the man was a Swiss, and therefore nobody I should waste any time on.

  The man nodded with a smug smile and murmured, “Our pleasure. Of course, our pleasure,” and with a little bow, he left. What a stiff! Mary thought. I started to read her thoughts more attentively, trying to dig deeper and to see if there was any interesting information to be gathered from them, but she merely explored the room and concentrated on naming to herself the people she saw, which was great orientation for me. There were about fifty people in the room, most of them aides, and I didn’t make an effort to remember all their names, limiting myself to labeling them by job title. I was busy following her inventory, when I felt a touch on Mary’s arm. That was something else that I still needed to get used to, I mean, feeling everything just like Mary was feeling, including being touched, as well as tasting. In my earliest training at the base I had already felt some of the sensations that Liv had felt, but those were either very strong events, like hurting her knee, or otherwise the sensations she conveyed were discernible, but somewhat fuzzy, like they didn’t belong to me. But now, I felt everything that Mary felt as if it was happening to my body. My ability was obviously growing, and feeling the other person’s sensations as if they were my own, was simultaneously upsetting and exciting.

  Mary turned at the touch and faced one of the sexiest men I had ever seen. He was sinewy and tanned, with piercing gray-brown eyes that seemed to magnetize you. He smelled good, with an after-shave lotion that I couldn’t place, and his smile revealed perfect, white teeth. He lo
oked like a regular movie star.

  “Shall we go in?” he asked, speaking with a strong Russian accent. “They have seated us together at the main table.”

  “Yes, Vlad,” she said, and I could feel a shiver of pleasure running down her spine. Or was it my spine?

  So this was the famous Vladimir Vilikov that I had to keep an eye on. Well, that would entail no hardship, for sure.

  You are so damn good looking! Mary thought, and then she turned her thoughts to the mechanics of cutting through the crowd toward the dinner table without bumping into anybody.

  That seemed like a good moment for a report, so I broke my connection with Mary, removed the pisspot from my head and pushed the walkie-talkie button. “Report!” I said into it, and two minutes later Doctor Alexander was standing beside my bed, his face showing eager expectation, which reminded me a little of a dog waiting for a nugget. I sat up and gazed at him, taking my time just to annoy him.

  “They have gone in to dinner,” I said at last, pausing as if I was about to say something of momentous importance, which of course I wasn’t. “I have seen Vladimir Vilikov and identified a few others. So far I have nothing important to report. I’ll rest for a few minutes and will go back.”

  “Okay. You need to keep an eye on Mary and try to learn what she is planning to do.”

  “Yes, thank you very much, Doctor. I wouldn’t have known what to do without your help,” I said.

  I was being openly sarcastic, but sarcasm was always lost on him, so he merely nodded and said, “I’ll wait for your next report,” and left.

  I got back to Mary and found her sitting beside Vladimir. Someone at another table was standing and giving a speech. It was so boring that I couldn’t bring myself to listen, so instead I dug into Mary’s mind, but she was following the speech so closely that I didn’t manage to dig up anything else.