Two of a Mind

by S M Stuart

  “Don’t be mad at me,” I pleaded. “Tell you what – let me see if I can connect to you.”

  I closed my eyes to concentrate but he pulled his arm out of my grasp. I tried not to let my disappointment show. Why did he want to keep his distance from me? We were supposed to be a couple.

  “Not just now, Dez,” he said. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day.”

  He tried to make light of it but I knew there was something more going on in his mind – his eyes gave him away even if I couldn’t hear his thoughts.

  We still had plenty of time before we had to be at the station so we spent the afternoon window shopping in Oxford Street and Regent Street. When we finally got onto the train home my feet and legs were aching. Dad, ever the diplomat, resisted the temptation to ask me how things had gone – he knew I’d tell him when I was ready. The rhythm of the train made me drowsy and I struggled to keep my eyes open. Just on the edge of sleep I heard it.

  “Can you hear me Miss Hanson? So, you knew Elizabeth. What a lucky coincidence!” I leapt up, grabbing Seth’s hand tightly and looking around the carriage to check whether the man was in there with us.

  “Dez, are you all right?” Dad asked, leaning forward from his seat opposite and putting his hand on my knee. I felt a jolt of energy from the contact and Dad’s eye widened slightly. He pulled his hand away and rubbed his finger tips together. “Bit of static.” I heard him thinking.

  “Yeah … yes, I’m fine Dad. A bad dream, that’s all.” He accepted the reassurance and we continued our journey without further incident.

  Once we were home, however, the ’rents insisted on hearing all about our visit to the Johnson Foundation and Dad’s frown of concern deepened as we finished our report.

  “Dez. I really think we should get you checked over at the clinic. You keep having such violent reactions to these phenomena and nobody seems to understand what is going on. We’re worried for you, sweetheart.”

  A vision of that awful, drug-wielding nurse came to mind.

  “No, Dad, please. I can’t stand that place. It gives me the creeps. Anyway, Alvin is researching my condition and I’m sure he can take care of my mental health if needs be.”

  “We’ll see. But at the very least, I want you to take a rest from all this diary business. I am sorry Seth, I understand how important this is to you but Dez’s wellbeing has to come first.”

  “I agree, sir, I’ve asked her to drop it but she just won’t ease up.”

  They were ganging up on me! I looked at Mum hoping to find some female support but her expression made it clear that she was on their side too. I held up my hands in surrender.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll try to back off but I can’t leave the job half-done. You said yourself, Dad – if Elizabeth’s Handi can give us information to put away a murderer we can’t ignore it.”

  “Yes, young lady. And you will recall that I said it should be in the hands of the authorities who are better equipped to deal with it!” Dad’s voice had taken on an edge of irritation, I shouldn’t push my luck but I continued to heckle him.

  “Please let us do as much as we can before handing it over. I feel like we’re so close to solving the puzzle. If the authorities had anything to go on they’d’ve caught him by now.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her, Mr Hanson.” Seth finally came to my rescue and tipped the balance in my favour. Dad wavered then finally crumbled under our joint pleas.

  “One more episode of sickness, fainting or even a bad dream and I’ll take the bloody thing to the police myself,” he grumbled. He never used bad language – this was a big deal for him. Despite my ability to hear the numerous communications in my head I was still a long way off being empathetic to the emotions they carried. I didn’t understand my dad’s feelings of uselessness and hurt – I merely felt relieved that I’d got my own way. I gave him a big hug of gratitude and felt him stiffen at my touch.

  “How are you doing that?” he asked, hoarsely.

  I stood back and looked at him, puzzled at his reaction. His face was pale, his lips blue as though all his blood had drained away. Suddenly I realised what it felt like to watch someone you love suffer and not know what to do to make it better.

  “What is it, Daddy?”

  “Jonathan?” Mum’s voice sounded brittle with worry.

  “I sensed you. When you hugged me. I felt I could telepath with you. How?” My normally erudite father seemed at a loss for words but I gathered his meaning. When I’d touched him he must’ve heard my thanks telepathically. Oops – that was something I’d forgotten to mention when we’d been talking about the events of the day.

  On the plus side – it proves my theory about how to isolate my links!

  CHAPTER 42

  Wiltshire: 6 May 2106

  “I know I said it yesterday but I’m so glad you’re here, Jonny.” Matt grasped his godson’s hand tightly, seemingly desperate to find an anchor in this sea of misery.

  “I only wish it wasn’t for such a dreadful occasion.” Jonathan imagined how he would cope if he’d lost Dez in such a tragedy, but realised he couldn’t truly comprehend the family’s despair – particularly that of Bethany’s mother. He glanced towards Jade, sitting with Laura and Eddie – all three straight-backed and stoic. Yet, beneath the calm exterior he knew their hearts were breaking. When he and Celeste had arrived the previous day he’d seen the raw agony in their eyes. They’d spent the evening together, recalling the vibrant young woman who’d had such a lot to give, such a lot of living still to do. It helped that they’d had time to shed their private tears so that, today, they could face the world with a degree of calm.

  The funeral director approached and touched Matt’s arm, “Sir?”

  “Mm? Oh, yes. Yes, we’d better make a start.” Matt joined his family. Laura smiled and nodded to Jonathan as her husband reached for her hand. Jonathan’s chest tightened and he struggled to keep his emotions in check – a struggle made harder as he felt his own wife’s hand slip into his.

  “They said it was a freak accident, Jonny. Some ancient fault in the gas line that had been undetectable during the normal inspections. Pah!” His scornful reaction drew attention from some of the mourners. He led Jonathan to a secluded corner of the room where his granddaughter’s funeral tea was being held. “I don’t believe it. I can’t. But I mustn’t drag Laura and Jade through this. Even Eddie seems to accept the lies. I’d’ve thought he’d want to find out what really happened to his niece.” His agitation grew and Jonathan tried calming him before the lurking media started to take an interest in Lord Simpson’s erratic behaviour.

  “I’m sure he’s just as keen as you are, Uncle Matt, but why are you so sure it was anything other than accidental?”

  Matt’s shoulders slumped. “It’s just a feeling.” He sounded defeated. “My memory’s not what it was but I can’t shake the feeling I ought to know what’s behind all this. Will you help me, Jonny? I know you have your own family to look out for but I don’t have anyone else I can trust.”

  Jonathan looked towards Celeste, who was deep in conversation with Laura and Jade. He could sense her empathy towards the family as if it was something solid. She seemed to know his thoughts – she turned her gaze towards him and smiled. It felt like she was giving him her blessing. He readily offered his help in whatever way Matt deemed necessary.

  London: 12 May 2106

  Jonathan looked at the crate that had been delivered to his London office. He’d expected a few files not realising that this research had begun with Matt’s grandmother almost a century ago. Could this simply be a family feud between the Simpsons and Trevalyns? Something built from nothing all those years ago during the Nuke War and the ‘flu pandemic? But Matt had been adamant.

  “My grandmother was convinced Benjamin Trevalyn was a villain. She believed it to her dying day, Jonny. I’ve let her down by not getting to the bottom of what she was trying to prove. It bothers me that Bethany had been looking at it again and n
ow she’s …” He couldn’t finish but Jonathan got the gist.

  The trouble was that all the Trevalyns, past and present, were notoriously private, vastly wealthy and extremely powerful in both business and politics. They’d had governments worldwide begging for their services and advanced technologies. Hell, even he and Celeste had relied on Trevalyn gadgetry during their field operations. He was going to have to keep this work well under-the-radar. It would mean a long hard slog, working virtually alone and the old-fashioned way without relying on the Department I.T. He couldn’t tap into the resources he’d normally use – they were too entrenched in Trevalyn’s systems and he needed to avoid drawing any attention to his investigations.

  He hoped he’d quickly discover it was a wild goose chase but he couldn’t erase the image of the sweet little bridesmaid in the peach dress. He wouldn’t shy from the truth if he found anything to prove Bethany’s death was not an accident.

  CHAPTER 43

  Ellingham: 8 August 2110

  Come on Dez, it’s staring you in the face.

  Seth had brought all our research, notes, and Elizabeth’s Handi to our house. It was a way to reassure the ’rents that we were being careful – and Mum was baking again so Seth was staying close, taking no chances at missing out on the results! Dad was allowing us to use his study so we’d have access to his interactive wall-screen – much easier than sifting through hundreds of Handi pages.

  I still had a thumping headache from the day before but I wasn’t going to let it interfere and, while Seth set everything up in the study, I went in search of painkillers. I keyed the code to the medicine cabinet, a precautionary measure that Dad had installed when I was little, and looked at the array of pills, sprays and potions that had accumulated over the years. I grinned at the sight of the calamine lotion, remembering its lovely coolness and unique pink, powdery smell when I’d needed it to sooth a particularly bad heat rash one summer. Surely, it’s out of date now? I picked up the bottle to check the label. It was past its best-by date by six months and I couldn’t resist a twinge of satisfaction that something had slipped through Mum’s super-efficient cleaning regime. I replaced the bottle and took out the packet of painkillers, turning the box over to look at the instructions. My brain gave a nudge as I read:

  PL Holder: Lisle Pharmaceuticals EU, Paris,

  Subsidiary of Trevalyn Corps, Regd Office: 264 Lisle St, London,

  Distributed by Deveaux International,

  Boulevard de Sébastapol, Paris.

  “Seth,” I said, as I rushed into the study thrusting the package towards him. “Look. Lisle. Isn’t that the same name as the lab Tomas worked in? We need to check the notes that Simone sent though.”

  “Steady on!” Seth took the box from me and gestured for me to sit down. “Now, tell me calmly what you’re on about.”

  “It’s beginning to come together, Seth. I wondered why one of the photos at the Johnsons’ looked familiar. It wasn’t really familiar to me but it was to Nicole ’cos it was the lab where Tomas worked – Laboratoires Lisle.”

  “And ..?”

  “And in the Johnsons’ photo they were with the head-honcho from Trevalyn Corps – oh, what was his name?”

  “Trevalyn, by any chance?”

  “No need to be sarcastic, Seth. Anyway, we can look that up easily enough.”

  “But, Dez, what’s the connection? I’m still not following.”

  “It’s just a hunch at the mo, but let’s look at the other victims to see if there’re any links to Trevalyn Corps. I don’t know why, but it feels like the right track.” A sudden shiver went down my back and for no apparent reason a vision of that rotten nurse at the clinic flitted across my subconscious.

  We powered up the wall-screen and linked Elizabeth’s Handi and our home Comms kit so that we could trawl the InfoNet and run several apps simultaneously. After a couple of hours or so we had a list of the victims and any noticeable link to Trevalyn Corps:

  1. Weardale girl – A follow-up report of the girl’s death identifying her as Sally Mathers, an office worker at the local Trevalyn Laboratory. (A celeb-gossip site had a photo taken at a Christmas party which gave me a déjà-vu moment, as though I’d been there myself. A man was trying to shield his face but the caption named him as “Victor Trevalyn, CEO of Trevalyn Corps, enjoying himself with his employees.”)

  2. Dale Johnson – his Foundation had joint projects on the go with the Trevalyn Corps.

  3. Nicole and Tomas – Lab Lisle, Trevalyn’s subsidiary.

  4. Bethany Simpson – MP candidate, died in explosion at home. No apparent link.

  5. Backpackers in Romania – went missing in the summer of 2106. No apparent link – but other news reports of their disappearance mentioned that they were paying for their holiday by volunteering for drugs tests – were these Trevalyn pharmaceutical products?

  6. School bus – plummeted over the Europa Bridge in Austria. No apparent link.

  I pushed the hair out of my eyes and straightened up in my chair.

  “It looks so much worse when it’s laid out like that,” I said, struggling with the lump in my throat. Seth pulled me into his arms and gave me a reassuring squeeze.

  “Hang in there,” he said. “We’re making great progress.”

  “How can you say that?” I asked. “We can’t find something that links all of them to Trevalyn’s so it can’t matter can it?”

  “Just ’cos we can’t see ’em yet doesn’t mean they’re not there. Come on, Dez. Don’t give up now. You were the one all gung-ho to get the bastard and it looks like we’ve got a number one suspect here.”

  I looked at him to check he wasn’t just trying to cheer me up but I saw his expression and knew he was taking this all very seriously. My mouth dried up as the pieces started to fall into place in my own mind. A fleeting memory from Sally’s trip to the Weardale Forest showed me the face of the man she was with – he’d tried to hide from the media but I still recognised him: Victor Trevalyn!

  “You’re right, Seth. It’s him. It’s Victor Trevalyn. I remember him from the forest but how do we convince the police? And what connects those other victims?”

  “Let’s look at Mum’s quotes again. Maybe they’ll make more sense now.”

  “Can we ask my mum to help with that?” I asked. “She’s good at cryptic clues and she knew your mum so well that she might have a better idea.”

  Seth paused, his brows drawn together in a tight frown. I could see he still struggled to let others see his mother’s Handi but he finally gave a sigh and nodded his acceptance.

  In the kitchen, the smell of home-baking was comforting and Mum was humming one of her favourite tunes as she tipped the latest batch of muffins onto the cooling rack.

  “Mum.”

  She jumped and nearly dropped the baking tray, then laughed nervously to hide her embarrassment. I apologised for the scare and asked if she had time to give us a hand with something. I saw the brief look of surprise then she smiled and nodded, wiping her floury hands on her apron before turning off the oven. Although I didn’t catch her thoughts I could see that she was pleased to be included in our activities even if she didn’t fully approve of them. Her smile soon faded when she saw the list of death on the wall-screen and she held her face in her hands as though trying to stop the horror showing in her expression. Seth brought a chair forward for her to sit down and she patted his arm in gratitude as she sank onto the cushioned seat.

  “So many,” she said in a hushed tone. “I didn’t know. Poor Elizabeth.” I sensed Rosa’s protective reaction to Mum’s distress and I felt a moment of jealousy that I couldn’t experience that closeness, that comforting presence of a genuine PT. I reached to hold Seth’s hand and consciously opened my mental door to allow all the connections through. The sudden onslaught of psychic noise threatened to floor me but I managed to tame it, searching for the one voice I desperately wanted to hear. Seth’s subconscious remained locked to me. He didn’t even react to my tou
ch. Why couldn’t I get through to him like I had with Dad, Dale and Asil the day before?

  “Mrs Hanson,” Seth was speaking to Mum and I had to force the voices in my head back into their padded-cell so that I could concentrate on the problem of Elizabeth’s riddles.

  “Mrs Hanson, we’re hoping you can help with the clues that Mum tagged onto the news reports of these incidents,” he explained. “Dez thought you might have a better insight as you were good friends. And you’re an ace crossword puzzler.” He turned and winked at me, oblivious to my inner turmoil.

  Mum’s cheeks, already pink from the heat of the oven, turned a deeper shade. Omigod, is she simpering?

  “I’ll see what I can do,” she said, as Seth added Elizabeth’s quotes to the list.

  “We can see the first one is self-explanatory now that we know Sally worked for Trevalyn,” said Seth. “‘He just had the power’ seems simple enough.”

  “Yes,” Mum agreed.

  As Mum looked towards the wall-screen her enthusiasm to solve another clue seemed to disappear. She was looking at the entry for Bethany Simpson and her face drained of colour so that she was almost as white as the screen she was staring at.

  “What is it, Mum?” I tried not to probe mentally to find out what had suddenly struck her dumb, but I couldn’t avoid hearing her desperate thoughts.

  “Oh dear lord, Jonathan, what have we let them get into?”

  CHAPTER 44

  Ellingham: 8 August 2110

  What was all that about?

  Mum made an excuse to leave the room – something about burning the scones, but I’d seen her turn off the oven earlier. Seth and I exchanged puzzled looks then turned back to the wall-screen.