Mind's Eye

by Douglas E. Richards

  Girdler shook his head. “I think you’re bluffing. If you really did have this power you wouldn’t have had to shoot two men in the back at WeOfficeU. You’d have just stopped their hearts and left the authorities scratching their heads.”

  “I only realized I could do this yesterday.”

  “I have no choice but to call your bluff, anyway,” said Girdler. “If you really do have this power, you’re even more dangerous than I thought.”

  Hall considered beginning a countdown, but his ESP told him these dramatics wouldn’t help. Girdler was willing to take his chances. Hall sighed. His bluff had been called, and he had no choice but to throw in his cards. “To be honest, I’m not sure I’d do it even if I really could,” he admitted. “But the truth is, I can’t even slow down an ant.”

  Girdler nodded, relieved, despite the resolve he had shown. Hall read that the colonel had genuinely come to like the man he was about to execute, which made it even worse. And Hall realized he had come to respect his executioner. A bizarre twist, even for the wicked effect.

  “So I can’t convince you not to do this?” said Hall.

  “I wish there were some way you could.”

  “Well, I hope you can appreciate that on the subject of my death,” said Hall, “we’re going to have to agree to disagree.”

  Girdler couldn’t help but smile, a bittersweet expression; far more bitter than sweet.

  Hall repeated his urgent telepathic message to Megan and then said, “Before you do this, let me tell you everything I know about the bastards chasing me. Everything that happened. If Delamater is going to cost me my life, I want to help you put a bullet in his head.”

  Girdler became upbeat for the first time, and his mind responded to the idea with the enthusiasm of a dog whose master had just returned home.

  Hall slowly began his tale of waking up in a dumpster. Every thirty seconds he re-sent his telepathic call to Megan. Ironically, while he was describing to Girdler how Megan had ended up joining him on the run, he got a response from her, so faint he could barely pick it up.

  “Nick? Where. . . Where am I?”

  “Megan!” he broadcast excitedly, and then repeated, “don’t open your eyes!”

  “Nick, what’s going on?”

  “Colonel,” said Hall out loud, “I think there’s something important I may be leaving out. My memory’s not what it once was, as you know. Give me a few minutes to think,” he finished, and then closed his eyes.

  “Megan, you were drugged in a laundry cart at the Homestead Inn. Remember?”

  There was a brief pause. “Yes. I do remember now.”

  “Good. Whatever you do, keep your eyes closed. You’re now in a safe house in Merced, and there’s a guard watching you. I’m in a bedroom two doors down from you. A PsyOps colonel knows about my ESP and thinks I’m too dangerous to let live. He’s planning to kill me very soon.”

  “Oh my God, Nick!”

  “It’s okay. I have a plan. And you’re the key.”

  “Tell me what to do.”

  “The man watching you isn’t sure exactly when you’ll come to, but he has no worry you can overpower him. You’re sitting on the floor in a bedroom, propped against a wall.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I can see the room through the eyes of the man in there with you. A few feet to your right is an end table with a lamp on it, about three feet tall, which isn’t currently on. Its base is like an elongated, colored teardrop. It might be glass, but I think it’s heavy Lucite. Regardless, if you grab it just under the lampshade and bulb, where it tapers, you can use the bottom like a club. The wall outlet where it’s plugged in is about two inches from your right hand. Feel around until you find it, and then slowly loosen the plug so it will easily pull out when you swing the lamp. But do it so slowly that you’d lose a race with a glacier. You can’t let him detect any movement.”

  “Will do,” came the reply.

  Inside the room with Hall, the colonel was becoming impatient. “Anything new coming to mind?” he asked.

  “Yes,” replied Hall. “But give me another minute or two to dig out the rest and then I’ll continue.”

  “Okay,” sent Megan thirty seconds later. “It’s done.”

  “Great work! The guy in there still thinks you’re unconscious. Open your eyes just a hair and find the lamp, just slightly above your head to the right. And also locate your guard. He’s dead center in front of you.”

  “I can see both through my eyelashes,” sent Megan a few seconds later.

  “Great. I need you to count down ‘three, two, one, now’ in your mind. When you hit ‘now,’ I’m going to scream at the top of my lungs. Plenty loud enough to carry to your room. This will distract the guy. So the moment you think, ‘now,’ jump up, grab the lamp near the top, and hit him with all of your strength.”

  Hall didn’t want the guard dead, just unconscious. So should he have Megan pull her punch? After all, he had killed Baldino with a single blow. But he was stronger and had been able to torque the hardened butt of the gun into Baldino’s head at tremendous velocity. Having no way to judge Megan’s strength, or know if she would deliver a glancing blow or a direct one, he couldn’t afford to take any chances. Hopefully, the guard would survive.

  “You can’t be squeamish about this, Megan,” he added, having made his decision. “My life depends on this. So no mercy. Put all the anger and hatred you’ve ever felt into the blow. The gun he’s holding only shoots tranquilizers, and he has strict orders not to hurt you. So even if this fails, you’ll be fine. There’s no risk. Just reward.”

  “Okay, Nick. I won’t let you down. On ‘now.’ Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “Three . . . two . . . one . . . now!”

  46

  Nick Hall screamed for all he was worth. A chilling, primal scream that caused Girdler to jerk back in surprise. Hall screamed at the highest decibel level he had ever managed, until his vocal cords begged for mercy, and then continued screaming.

  At the same time, he was inside the head of the man who was guarding Megan. The man had been startled by a scream that shot through the walls like they were tissue paper, and turned toward it. But just as he completed his turn, his subconscious caught a sound or a movement behind him, and he sensed he was in danger and needed to turn back.

  But he was too late. He turned just in time to see the heavy base of a lamp coming toward his head.

  And then the guard’s conscious thinking ceased, and the mental picture Hall was borrowing from him went dead. Even so, Hall could tell the guard was still alive. Perfect!

  “I did it!” screamed Megan telepathically.

  “Outstanding!” replied Hall, finally cutting off his scream and sparing his burning throat. “He has a real gun in an ankle holster. Get it, along with his dart gun, and wait for my instructions. Move very quietly.”

  Girdler shook his head at Hall’s antics. “Are you done screaming now?” said the colonel. “Do you think someone outside the house might hear you and come to your rescue?”

  “Not really,” said Hall. “But I figured the universe owes me one last primal scream.”

  Girdler nodded while Hall read his mind. Hall was under tremendous stress, the colonel was thinking. Understandably. The scream had been pretty bizarre, but he was on death row after all, and every man handled this kind of pressure in his own way.

  “I guess I didn’t remember anything new, after all,” continued Hall conversationally. “Where was I?”

  “Before you freaked out,” said Girdler, “you were telling me that Megan had been shot. And you were wheeling her outside to her car on her desk chair.”

  “Right. I knew I couldn’t take her to a hospital. So I drove her to a seedy motel.”

  “And called an ambulance,” said Girdler knowingly, as the pieces continued to fall into place. “I’d love to know what happened with that. We interviewed the friends and families of the paramedics who responded.”
/>   Hall’s face wrinkled up in confusion. “Why didn’t you interview the paramedics themselves?”

  “They were both murdered.”

  “No!” bellowed Hall, his eyes widening in horror.

  Hall read that Girdler instantly regretted telling him this. Why make Hall feel any worse than he needed to feel? Most men being executed were allowed to enjoy a last, favorite meal. Instead, he was burdening Hall with remorse and guilt.

  But Hall had no time to dwell on these senseless deaths that he had caused, even if only indirectly. While he had continued speaking with Girdler, Megan had quietly entered the room behind them. Because he couldn’t see through Megan’s eyes, he was only able to position her approximately, about six feet in from the left wall. But since she could also hear the colonel’s voice through the wall, she was confident she was precisely behind him. She stood there, barely breathing, and waited for Hall’s signal.

  “Colonel,” said Hall, “I’ve come to like and respect you. And I understand why you feel you have to kill me. But if you’d like to remain alive, I really do need you to toss over the keys to my cuffs and not to move. And this time I’m not bluffing.”

  “You already admitted you couldn’t stop an ant.”

  “Colonel, I’ve found there are a small percentage of people I can’t read. Megan Emerson is one of them. But while I can’t read her mind, for some strange reason, we are able to communicate with each other telepathically.”

  The colonel considered. This was interesting, if true. But he didn’t understand why Hall was telling him this now, and making idle threats, rather than continuing his narrative.

  “She’s free now. Not only free, but pointing a gun at your back from point blank range. How thick do you think these flimsy plaster walls are in here? Specifically the one your chair is leaning against? Do you think the walls could stop a .45 caliber slug fired from six inches?”

  “Good try,” said Girdler calmly. “But your first bluff was better.”

  “Was it?” said Hall, sending instructions to Megan.

  A boom sounded behind the colonel as a fist pounded the wall where his head was located. Girdler was startled nearly out of his mind, and the shock wave through the wall forced his head forward.

  “The next thing through that wall won’t just be a fist tap,” said Hall. “I know you’re a heroic guy, Colonel Girdler. But you can’t prevent me from escaping, whether you cooperate or not. So why throw your life away?”

  The colonel reached into his pocket and withdrew the keys to Hall’s cuffs, knowing any deception he could try would be read. He tossed them to Hall, who snatched them from the air with his free left hand.

  Hall read from Girdler’s mind that a large part of him was actually relieved at this turn of events. Even though Hall had been granted a stay of execution, Girdler had been granted a stay as well; a stay from taking the role of executioner he was loath to play.

  Once Hall had freed himself, he had Girdler kick his gun over to him, and then his dart gun. After he had gathered up both guns, he backed away from the colonel and instructed Megan to join them.

  As Megan entered the room, Hall raised the tranquilizer gun and pointed it at the colonel.

  “You know you should really use the one with bullets,” said Girdler wearily. “I’m sure you can read that if you let me live, I’ll still have to try to kill you. The stakes are too high to do anything else.”

  “I know,” said Hall. “But I’m not a murderer. And I like you, Colonel Girdler. I even agree with you.” He pulled the trigger and a dart imbedded itself into Girdler’s stomach.

  “But you’ll have to forgive me for not wishing you luck,” he added, and then turned to embrace the remarkable woman standing beside him.

  47

  To say that the past few days had been the most incredible of Alex Altschuler’s eventful life was an understatement. He had worn a wire to entrap his boss, had been on the verge of being killed, had lost his hearing temporarily from a gunshot that had blown away much of Kelvin Gray’s face, and had been shown unequivocal evidence of perfect ESP.

  And now, standing in a secret basement room at Theia’s Madera facility, he was able to surf the web with his thoughts alone!

  Heather Zambrana had been so excited by the success of the surgery she had hugged him, and he sensed that she considered this a positive experience, something he would have to explore further another time.

  He would have to explore this further, of course, because he could not read her mind.

  Cybersurfing and ESP were not linked! You could have one without the other.

  The experiment had been a stunning success in every regard.

  He didn’t even feel that bad physically. Blood loss had been minimal, and there were no pain receptors in the brain, which was why surgeons could perform brain surgery on patients who were fully awake, ensuring the procedure wasn’t adversely affecting vision, speech, or motor control functions. And while the skull did contain pain receptors, the pain hadn’t seemed that bad, even before Heather had given him a potent pain reliever.

  Heather cleared her throat loudly, but Altschuler was so engrossed in putting his Internet connection through its paces he was completely oblivious. He had been experimenting at a furious pace for forty-five minutes. Hall was bright, but Altschuler was in a league of his own, and was an expert with computers and the Internet. So he became more adept at manipulating the system than Hall after less than an hour, and page after page flashed into his mind’s eye like they were being fired from a machine gun.

  Heather cleared her throat a second time, with equal lack of effect. “Um . . . Alex. If you’re feeling okay, I’d like to leave. You can continue experimenting in the car. And I think, um . . . well, you know, we could be more comfortable at my place.”

  Altschuler froze. What did that mean? God, what he wouldn’t give to be able to read her mind for just a few seconds.

  They had always had a great working relationship, and maybe she had sensed how he felt about her, despite how hard he tried to conceal it. But now he had blown her mind with revelations about Gray, about the Explorer, about a fully functioning personal, thought-controlled Internet, and about a man named Nick Hall. He had taken her from the realm of the ordinary and routine to the stratosphere of extraordinary and incredible. The fact that he had chosen her to be the fourth member of an exclusive club safeguarding the most astonishing secret in history couldn’t help but enhance his appeal to her. Now they not only shared an incredible secret, but also an incredible purpose. How could this not bring them closer together?

  But just how close would it bring them? And how quickly?

  Altschuler was pretty sure Heather wasn’t in a relationship. And her condo would be far more comfortable than the basement lab. But was she innocently pointing out the accurate fact that it would be more comfortable? Or was this her way of making the sexual innuendo that it would be more comfortable?

  “Alex?” said Heather after he had stared at her, blinking, for several seconds without a response. “Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m feeling great,” he replied finally. “Thanks to you. And you’re right. Let’s get out of here. We have a lot to do.”

  They made their way to the ground floor and exited the building. Heather’s car was the first and only one in the lot. “And you’re positive you can’t read my mind?” she asked for the second time as they walked the few feet to her car in the cool night air.

  “Positive,” he said again. He couldn’t blame her for being nervous at the prospect of him having access to her innermost, private thoughts. “Believe me, I know how relieved you must feel.”

  Just the hint of a smile came over her down-to-earth face, which glowed against the faint light at the front of the facility that was kept on throughout the night. “I’m mostly relieved,” she admitted. She tapped her head with her index finger. “But there might be a few things in there I wouldn’t mind you reading.”

  It didn’t take
a genius, which Altschuler was, to know this was a statement worth following up on.

  He opened his mouth to explore what this meant when he heard his name from ten feet away in the darkness. “Dr. Altschuler?” said a deep, gravelly voice.

  There were two men approaching.

  In an empty parking lot at three in the morning, below a dark, moonless sky, being approached by an elderly woman with a cane would be alarming. But being approached by two men who exuded menace froze both scientists in place and sent their hearts racing.

  “What do you want?” asked Altschuler, noting that neither man was carrying a weapon. At least for the time being.

  The man who had spoken reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it to reveal a government ID. He was a member of a three-letter organization with which Altschuler was not familiar. What was even more troubling was that even when he used his internal Internet to search for it, he still came up empty. Which meant the agency didn’t exist and these men were frauds, or it did exist and was so secret it wasn’t mentioned a single time on the trillions of pages of cyberinformation available. Either way, this was a bad sign.

  Were they working for John Delamater?

  “Sorry to bother you this late,” said the man, pocketing his wallet. “But we need to ask you and Miss Zambrana a few questions. If you could come with us, our car is parked around the corner.”

  “And if we don’t?” asked Altschuler, certain his face was now as pale as the light surrounding them.

  “I’m afraid that really isn’t an option,” said the man, while his partner remained silent.

  “Freeze!” said a male voice from the opposite side of the parking lot. While the two scientists and the two men near them were illuminated by the light of the building, this voice seemed to be coming from the heart of a black hole.

  “Raise your hands! Now!”

  The two men who were supposedly from the government glanced at each other, and the one who had been speaking shook his head the slightest bit, a gesture that even Altschuler knew meant that he had calculated the odds and decided firing into darkness wasn’t a great option. The men raised their hands above their heads with their jaws clenched.