Stolen Thoughts

by Tim Tigner

  Vicky was dying to pick his brain on her situation—their situation—with RRS&S, but sensed that she shouldn’t push it then and there on the barstool.

  “I’ve got to go,” he said as the clock neared 1:00. “It was nice to meet you. Good luck this afternoon.”

  “Thanks. How about dinner? I’d love to meet Joy and introduce you to Quinten.” She strove to ooze humble sincerity. “We haven’t met anyone yet. Not in this new life. We’re on the Vitamin Sea. Say around six o’clock?”

  “That would be nice, but we’re planning to leave the island this afternoon.”

  Vicky cringed as he rose. She needed to walk the fine line between enticing him and spooking him. “I know things that could help you.”

  Chase froze. His first slip. But he quickly recovered with a casually toned, open question. “What kind of things?”

  “I’ll tell you tonight.”

  He grinned. “I’ll be gone tonight.”

  Vicky grinned back. “Google ‘REVELATIONS by Cassandra’—and bring a bottle of Chardonnay.”

  26

  Good Timing

  CHASE DID NOT BELIEVE in psychic ability, but he was intrigued by psychics. More importantly Vicky, aka Cassandra, was clearly not a threat. She was who she said she was, not a cartel assassin.

  After reading her online biography and reflecting on her words, “I know things that could help you,” he couldn’t dismiss the crazy corollary notion that Scarlett Slate had obtained her knowledge through psychic ability rather than secret connections. He didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it. But, in the absence of a more plausible explanation, he hesitated to dismiss it either.

  Not without learning more.

  Not when it was being offered, gift wrapped.

  “It’s bound to be a most memorable evening,” Skylar said, pulling a Napa Chardonnay from their wine refrigerator as Chase secreted a slim subcompact Glock in the small of his back. Hawaiian shirts were great for concealed carry.

  He doubted that the evening would turn violent but preferred to be cautious.

  “They’re kind of a beauty and the beast couple, don’t you think?” Skylar asked.

  “I honestly don’t think he’s that beautiful,” Chase replied.

  After locating the Vitamin Sea a mere fifty yards from their own berth, Chase had studied Quinten’s features using binoculars and then found him on Facebook among the fans of REVELATIONS by Cassandra. Quinten didn’t have much of an online presence. He had a master’s degree in English Literature from Berkeley and had spent years as the manager of an independent bookstore in Reno. Friends called him “Chewie,” which Chase didn’t find the least bit surprising, given the phonetic similarity between Quinten Bacca and the Star Wars character Chewbacca, coupled with his unusual physical appearance.

  Vicky was indeed a beauty in the online promotional photographs he’d shown Skylar, but in real life she couldn’t compete with his wife, who could even turn heads after a run in the rain.

  Chase let Skylar do most of the talking during the introductions, using the time to scan the Vitamin Sea for any inconsistencies. Any signs that didn’t fit his host’s story. The yacht obviously wasn’t new, but since it clearly wasn’t a rental either, that didn’t contradict her story. It merely showed frugality and financial savvy. Boats depreciated very quickly.

  Once the Chardonnay was poured and they were seated around lobster salads up top in the open air, Chase dove into the meat. “How did you go from being a bioengineering graduate student at Caltech to a psychic in Las Vegas?”

  Vicky was quick with a canned response. “I woke up with a gift and realized that I needed to share it.”

  “Your online profile says you were born with it.”

  “For marketing purposes, we’re claiming that she’s had the ability since birth, even though it didn’t present until recently,” Chewie said.

  Chase kept his eyes on Vicky’s, or rather on her sunglasses. “You’re saying it’s more than just an act you developed? An actual distinguishing ability?”

  “I’m blessed,” she said.

  That’s ambiguous. “Does it work all the time, or only in certain situations?”

  “Only when I’m in the right frame of mind.”

  Here we go. “Is that often?”

  “You’ve known Skylar about a year and a half now, is that right?”

  Chase wouldn’t have been more surprised if his host had punched him in the nose. Vicky knew his wife’s real name, and how long they’d been acquainted.

  “That’s right,” Skylar said.

  “And you’d been happily yachting for about a year until a recent run-in?”

  “That’s also right,” Skylar said, clamping her hand on Chase’s knee.

  “And now everyone and everything is making you nervous. Skeptical. Because you’re worried that a buried secret has been revealed?”

  “How do you know that?” Skylar practically whispered.

  Chase was intrigued, but no longer stunned. Professional cold readers were experts at picking up on cues and using them to make general assertions sound specific. They were also masters at plucking information off the internet and pairing it with related statistical probabilities. Plus, Vicky knew that they were yacht owners who wanted to change their names.

  “It’s a gift. A sense. I can’t explain it any more than most people can explain how they see or hear.”

  Chase’s spy sense told him she wasn’t being entirely truthful, but he let it pass. Victoria Pixler was quickly becoming one of the most intriguing people he’d ever met. And despite his skepticism, he liked her. He could tell that Skylar did, too.

  Chewie was charming as well. A gentle giant with sophistication and a teenage boy’s grooming habits. “Back at Salt & Battery, you said you knew something that could help me.”

  “I did, and I do. But now’s not the time,” Vicky said.

  That sounded like a stall tactic to Chase. A typical psychic prevarication. But his gut told him she was sincere. Of course, psychics were experts at projecting sincerity along with other forms of manipulation. Still, he had a finely honed lie detector, and it was not buzzing. “I’ll just have to trust you to tell me when it is time.”

  “Please do,” Vicky said with a smile.

  To Chase’s surprise and delight, the two couples ended up spending the next week together. While Vicky waited for The Guy to create her new passport, they sailed sixty miles northeast to Little Cayman and then another five to Cayman Brac—for security reasons. It was a very comfortable way to get acquainted, each couple with their own yacht, both surrounded by the full freedom of the seas.

  Vicky and Chewie weren’t as athletic as he and Skylar. Well, almost nobody was as athletic as Skylar. But they were both broadly intelligent and very decent people. They also shared his and Skylar’s life outlooks, perspectives, and priorities. The foursome’s conversations were meaningful and their discussions deep. Psychology, sociology, politics, science, and economics quickly replaced the usual weather, food, celebrities, and sports banter.

  Chase had a bottle of Champagne iced and waiting aboard the Sea La Vie when Vicky returned from her pickup appointment with The Guy. He popped the cork when she raised her new passport high like a hard-won trophy.

  “Congratulations!”

  Once they’d toasted and sipped, Chewie and Skylar began discussing dinner options. They were the primary cooks and worked well together.

  Vicky leaned his way and whispered, “It’s time.”

  Chase immediately knew what she meant. He also understood that the revelation was to be their secret. He was intrigued, excited, and more than a little apprehensive. What was she going to reveal? Why so much secrecy? He couldn’t help but shiver as he flashed back to the last person who’d shocked him with a confidential revelation. Scarlett Slate.

  “Am I finally going to get that reading you’ve been promising?” he asked, speaking loud enough for the others to overhear and putting a playful tone i
n his voice.

  “I suppose you’ve earned it, if Skylar doesn’t mind?”

  “You two go right ahead,” Skylar said. “We’ll be on the Vitamin Sea, attempting to perfect our sushi-rolling skills.”

  27

  Adam and Eve

  CHASE GRABBED THE CHAMPAGNE BUCKET and followed Vicky to the top deck. She sat facing the stairway and motioned for him to sit directly across from her. “No crystal ball?” he asked, venting a bit of tension.

  “Those are actually very useful,” she replied to his surprise.

  “How so?”

  “Odd as it sounds, people often trust sources of information they don’t understand more than the ones they do.”

  “You mean the way wives will turn to passing strangers when attempting to refute their husbands?”

  Vicky raised her eyebrows.

  “Just a little humor to lighten the mood,” Chase said. “Do people actually trust crystal balls?”

  She flashed a smile. “Crystal balls, tarot cards, the stars, tea leaves, you name it, some buy it.”

  “What’s the psychological explanation?”

  “In a word: desire. Those objects are really just buffers. They serve to take the focus off the psychic herself and transfer the responsibility to something more mystical and thus more powerful than a fellow human.”

  “I can see the advantage of that.”

  “Good. However, that’s not the main reason I have a crystal ball on my reading table.”

  This was getting interesting. “What is the main reason?”

  Vicky leaned in to answer. “When you worked for the CIA, you were legally required—on pain of imprisonment—to keep secrets. Did you ever betray that trust?”

  Chase’s sense of shock came roaring back. He was absolutely certain that neither he nor Skylar had so much as implied that he had worked for the CIA. “I’ve never knowingly betrayed a trust.”

  She studied him in silence for a few seconds. “Are you certain? Think about it? Did you ever inadvertently reveal a government secret. It’s just us. I promise this goes no further.”

  Chase had no idea where this was headed, but Cassandra was clearly driving at something specific. He’d certainly never betrayed his government. Quite the opposite, he’d been forced out after refusing to break his oath of service. “I’m certain.”

  “Good, because in order to help you, I need to tell you something that you can never repeat. Not ever. Not to anyone. Skylar included. And let me warn you, it won’t be easy. I know that, because I had to keep it from Chewie for a long time.”

  Whoa. Was she a member of some secret society? Like the Illuminati or Skull and Bones?

  “I’m not asking you to join a cult,” Vicky continued, as if reading his mind. “Chewie is the only living person who knows what I’m considering telling you.”

  “Living?”

  “My mother knew. She’s deceased, but her death is not related. Look, I promise you that this will be very valuable information, but it comes at a cost. The painful price of secrecy.”

  Chase gave her words the moment of reflection they deserved before replying. “Okay. I will take what you tell me to the grave—so long as disclosing it won’t save lives or prevent suffering.”

  “Actually, disclosing it would almost certainly cost countless lives and inflict great suffering.”

  Upon hearing those words of warning, spoken with sincerity and conviction, Chase almost buried his head in his hands from shame and disappointment. Of course the psychic lady was crazy. She just hid it very well. He should have followed his head rather than his instinct. What was it going to be, he mused: aliens or ghosts?

  “As an accomplished scientist, I understand the source of your skepticism. With that in mind, I’m going to tell you what you need to know, just not how I know it. You can take that information and walk away and live happily ever after if you like, never learning my secret but benefitting from that specific piece of knowledge.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “I know. Here goes.” Vicky took a deep breath. “You have nothing to fear from Scarlett Slate. She didn’t actually uncover your secrets. In fact, I doubt she even remembers them. Furthermore, you did not leave a trail. At least not one that she found.”

  Chase was speechless. Not because of her prognosis but because he’d never mentioned Scarlett Slate to Vicky, much less the details of her blackmail. As with the CIA, he was certain Skylar wouldn’t have breathed a word either.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I know,” Vicky said sympathetically. “But you don’t need to understand something to make use of it.”

  She was right about that. People popped aspirin all the time without knowing how it worked, for example. But did he believe her? She clearly had inside knowledge and an exceptional mind. Intuitively, he trusted her, despite her prior occupation and his deeply ingrained skepticism for all things supernatural.

  That faith caused him to reconsider his calculations. As he contemplated the situation, Chase experienced a flashback of sorts—all the way to The Beginning. He was in the Garden of Eden, and Vicky was offering him an apple. The original sin. “Given that I know the conclusion, is it accurate to say that you’re offering me forbidden knowledge for curiosity’s sake alone? Like Eve with Adam”

  Vicky cocked her head contemplatively, then paled a bit. “I hadn’t thought of it that way, but from your perspective I suppose that’s accurate. Well said.”

  “So why offer it? If what you say is true, why risk those countless lives? What’s in it for you?”

  She lowered her head a bit. “I desperately need help.”

  “Why didn’t you start with that?”

  “Because it’s too big an ask.”

  “Too big how?”

  “Look, Chase, we’re putting the cart before the horse. I see now that I shouldn’t be tempting you.”

  He reached out for her hand. It was a reflex move, but he didn’t immediately retract it. “The Eve reference has you rattled.”

  Vicky nodded slowly. “Yes, it does.”

  “To continue the metaphor, you need help with the snake, don’t you?”

  “Four of them, actually.” Vicky removed her sunglasses. As she set them on the table between them, he saw that she was teary eyed.

  He squeezed her hand. It was an innocent yet intimate gesture, making him feel at once considerate and guilty. Once again, The Garden of Eden flashed before his eyes.

  She didn’t pull back.

  She shocked him instead.

  “You’ve already been bitten by one of the snakes.”

  “I have?” Chase asked, releasing her hand.

  Vicky donned her sunglasses again. “You have.”

  Suddenly, he knew. The snake in his vision transformed into an attorney—with flowing blonde hair, dangerously high heels, and bright red nails.

  “That’s right,” Vicky said. “The other three are Colton Resseque, James Rogers, and Walter Sackler.”

  28

  Security Breach

  THE GARDEN OF EDEN analogy shook Vicky to her core. She’d never considered herself evil before. Quite the opposite, having forgone fortune and fame for the greater good. But the analogy of tempting Chase with forbidden knowledge held. It was exactly what her mother had warned about.

  But what was Vicky to do? Take on four New York City lawyers alone? Ignore the evil they were doing? Let them hunt her down? Did that serve the greater good?

  “How do you know Scarlett Slate?” Chase asked, snapping Vicky out of her funk.

  “I don’t know her. We’ve never met. I’ve never met her partners either.”

  “I don’t understand,” Chase said, his voice more calming than challenging.

  “I know you don’t. You couldn’t. We’re back to the big question. Do you want the knowledge and with it the burden of secrecy? But to be honest with you, I’m questioning the wisdom of asking for your help. I don’t want to be Eve.”

  �
��Do you need my help?”

  “I do.”

  “Will the world be a better place if I help you?”

  “It will.”

  “Undoubtedly?”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  Chase gave her hand another squeeze, then drew back. “Tell me.”

  Vicky inhaled deeply. “Think of a number between one and a thousand.”

  “What?”

  “Pick a three-digit number.… Seven eight nine.”

  Chase’s face went slack. “How did you do that?”

  “Pick a four-digit number.… Seven one seven four.”

  “That’s impossible.”

  “No, it’s bioengineering.”

  “Bioengineering?” As Chase spoke the word, his teeth sliced through the apple. “You’re reading my mind?”

  “If you think about it, you are too.”

  “What?”

  “Your brain isn’t a single cell, Chase. It presents information to you as a simple stream, like the exhaust from an automotive tailpipe. But the processing is done in different parts of different lobes. The pistons and fuel injectors and fan belts of your brain, as it were. All I’m doing is mechanically intercepting their output and duplicating the exhaust stream.”

  “You are literally reading my mind?” Purple elephants in pink tennis shoes.

  “Yes. So did Scarlett Slate. She didn’t investigate you. She likely knew little about you going into the deposition. She elicited your fears on the spot and then played them against you. She won and then she moved on.”

  Chase was stunned silent.

  Vicky gave him a few seconds, then asked, “Did she take notes?”

  “No. No notes, no recording. I was very surprised at the time.”

  “Good. Given all the other information she’s undoubtedly intercepted since then, I doubt Slate remembers the details. Just as I’ll soon forget your fetish for purple elephants in pink tennis shoes.”

  Chase bowed his head in defeat. “But she’s out there, with her three partners, selling her secret skill for profit.”