Virtually His

by Gennita Low

In her mind, she recreated the elevator she’d seen during RV. The wood paneling. The one button. This elevator only goes up or down from one location. She chased the image as it faded away. She needed more information.

  Staring deeper into the blueprint, she rebuilt the whole elevator again, adding dimensions, adding a richer color—dark oak paneling, two-tone carpet, brass-looking lever on one side of a panel—and following instinct, added the feeling of weight under her feet, the way an elevator would jerk when it moved. The droning of the plane engine sounded like the hum of an elevator. Her finger traveled on its own, moving across the paper. Her eyes closed.

  “What do you see, 51?”

  “The key’s still there,” he told them obediently. There was something wrong with the feel of the location, though, but he dared not tell them that. Locating objects had always been iffy anyway. He had time to get to the right place while they waited here.

  He felt so good. He had never felt like this in all his experience with the drug. Doubling the dosage doubled everything. He could target what he wanted faster. He could see the glow. Here was one.

  He slipped into the energy of the woman passing him. Oh yeah. There was sex today. He delved deeper, looking for feedback. But the memories were running like slides—too fast—and he hadn’t found a way to slow it down yet. Those marvelous feelings he craved rushed through him like one of those European bullet trains. Too fast! No time to enjoy her!

  Next.

  Next!

  “What do you see, 51?”

  “The key’s still there,” he told them again, mentally checking quickly. Of course it was still there; they were decoding something, weren’t they? Who cared? He needed—wait, wait, wait. Deep breath. He had to work with these guys here or he would get into trouble. “Many people in this building. It’s confusing my senses a bit. Can I ask how we’re going to get to the key in this crowd?”

  “He’s got a point,” the other man said. “Why are there so many damn people going there?”

  “Make a couple of calls and find out,” his monitor said. “Agent 51, if the key changes location, let me know.”

  “Of course,” he said. That was easy enough. It only took quick mental feedback to establish that. He didn’t particularly care what it was being used for, not right now anyway. So many people. He must find a way to slow this down.

  He felt the woman from that first session, the one with the secret lover. Secret lovers were always fun. They tried out exciting stuff, no quickies in the morning, none of the boring husband-wife roll in and out. He liked what he had seen in her. Where was she?

  Change channel. Not this room. Change channel. Not this room. Change channel…she was here, talking to her man. He jumped eagerly into her energy. Oh, wow. She was talking sexy to her lover.

  Her whole energy was beautiful; she was so damned turned on. Talk more, baby, keep talking. Too fast—the images were too fast—but the feeling. Oh, man, the feeling. He mentally turned the volume louder and added her heartbeat and breathing into the cadences, letting her breathy words slide through his being like warm honey.

  It didn’t matter that he couldn’t hear what she was saying exactly. He felt all her sexual need in that voice. Oh, God, she was a hot bitch for sure. Her whole energy was filling up with such exquisite demand for sex. He caught a quick image of her standing naked in front of a mirror, parting her legs. He wanted that memory, he wanted—shit! What could he do to stop this speeding?

  He wrapped himself inside her glow, smelling her scent, wanting her. Maybe the drug would taper off just a bit and then he would be here, ready to record.

  “He really seems out of it,” he heard a voice say in the distance.

  “They always seem a bit more into their remote viewing with a higher dosage. He’s been answering me, so he’s okay. Now, let’s deal with this problem with the people. How are we going to get around the presence of so many VIPs?”

  “The other side’s going to have the same problem, too. We’ll take care of them after they retrieve the component. Just make sure our guy here keeps tabs on the key. Let them do the work. We’ll know when the key is moved, right?”

  “Agent 51, are you still with the key?”

  They were so stupid. He realized that now. They had never remote viewed and so would never understand the beauty of it. He didn’t need to be with the key.

  “It’s where it was when I first saw it,” he replied honestly. “They have found three of the six codes in the password, I think.”

  “Good.”

  Oh, better than good, baby. He was doing better than good. He wondered whether his hard-on in his physical body was obvious to his monitor because he could feel its churning urgency where he was. He needed to do something about that soon.

  “Helen, can you hear me?”

  Helen blinked. Alex’s face was near hers, his eyes watchful. “Yeah, what?”

  “I thought you fell asleep but your hand was moving. You didn’t answer me the first few times I called your name.”

  “Oh.” Helen looked down on her lap. Her finger was pointing off the blueprint. “You said my hand was moving?”

  “Yes. Rather, your finger was moving, as if it was drawing. I didn’t want to interrupt but you started jabbing your finger into your thigh really hard and I wasn’t sure whether you weren’t hurting yourself.”

  Helen frowned. “Huh.” She turned her finger over and studied the tip of her finger. “And I didn’t wake up even though I was jabbing myself?”

  “Obviously not.” Satisfied that she was okay, Alex straightened back into his seat. “What was that all about?”

  “I’m not sure,” Helen said slowly, still studying her finger. “When we started remote viewing, one of our first exercises was kind of like automatic writing, where we were told to let ourselves draw out ideograms, but that was done with me fully aware. This has never happened before. Wish I was holding a pen.”

  “Then you would have punctured your thigh,” Alex said quietly. “You were using quite a bit of force.”

  “But what was I writing?” She frowned, trying to remember. “I can’t remember a thing. That’s never happened before either. I wasn’t actually asleep, I don’t think.”

  “This might be a side effect of the serum,” Alex said. “Make a note of it and report it to Dr. Kirkland. He’s trying to find the right dosage for each individual.”

  “To do what?” She turned her gaze to the man sitting across from her.

  “To make sure you don’t OD.” He arched a brow at her. “It is a drug in you, you know. Haven’t you considered that you can overdose on it? They think they can control the cause and effect through dosage, but this serum doesn’t stay the same in every individual.”

  “So some would need more for it to take effect,” Helen finished for him, nodding as she added, “and for some, it would be way too much.”

  She thought of Armando Chang’s fascination with illusion. Was that part of the effect of SYMBIOS 2 on him? She had to have that chat with him when she returned to Center.

  But what was she writing? She had drifted off—if that was what one would call what happened—while memorizing the layout of Deutsche International. Whatever she was writing—did it have to do with the blueprint of the place? She wracked her brain, trying to remember. She had been tracing the elevator in the layout and had used what she could remember from the RV session earlier, focusing on the details. If she had somehow gone into remote viewing mode, she hadn’t been aware of it and for the first time, couldn’t recall anything. Besides, where was the downtime, that feeling of numbness?

  She shook her head. The serum might be taking care of the downtime fatigue right now. No time to worry about it.

  “We’re almost at zero hour. How are you?” Alex interrupted her thoughts.

  Helen glanced up. “I’m fine. I feel fine.” Alex’s eyes narrowed a fraction, but he didn’t say anything. She cocked her head, a smile touching her lips. “Worried about me, Agent Diamon
d?”

  Alex Diamond leaned back and closed his eyes again. “Try not to jab yourself before we get there.”

  There was just something about him that tempted her to bait him. Maybe it was his lack of reaction to anything.

  “I bet you would be more worried had it been T. who had the serum in her and she started doing weird stuff,” Helen said slyly.

  “Yes,” he said, calm as could be, eyes still closed.

  Helen stared at him, then laughed. She was beginning to like the guy.

  Twelve

  He had a little bit of time before operations got under way. Of course his thoughts revolved around Elena Rostova. When he had flipped through the dictionary this morning, the word that jumped out at him was revelation. He didn’t like surprises. Now was not the time for them, and he had experienced several today.

  She was on her own. He had to let her do her job.

  Nonetheless, he…worried because the serum was inside her and it was something he couldn’t control. He almost laughed aloud. Worry wasn’t an emotion that he experienced a lot, especially when it came to an operative and his or her job. He cared about the men and women who worked with him, but the risks and the sacrifices were not his problem; they were theirs. Surprise number one. He was worried about her.

  It was eye-opening to him that he wanted to make sure she was all right, that she was drinking and eating even if she didn’t feel normal hunger or thirst, that she understood that she was not only what she felt. But he was her monitor and part of his job was to not interfere with the experiment.

  As usual, he was going to break the rules. That wasn’t the surprise. The revelation playing on his mind was the knowledge that he hadn’t wanted her to take the risk at all in that last moment. The urge to yank that needle out of her arm lasted only a quick second and dissipated as he watched her behaving normally, but that second was enough to give him pause.

  He had several rules that were important to him. Do not mix sexual chemistry with personal emotion in a seduction. It would be unhealthy. Creating a sexual bond outside the parameters of a relationship—imprinting need and feeding it—was only possible if the operative remained somewhat detached. To be crude, don’t mix business with pleasure.

  Yet, when he saw Elena naked, he never denied the pleasure she gave him. Oh, at first it was pure male curiosity, but voyeurism was never much of a turn-on for him, since he’d spied on targets in all kinds of situations through the years. He’d liked what he’d seen. Since revelation was the keynote today, he might as well admit now that it’d grown into something else. Watching her had become a possessive habit.

  He smiled at the term. He was sure Kirkland had thought so a couple of times even though the man hadn’t voiced any disapproval. Kirkland would probably have said the same thing: don’t mix business with pleasure.

  Admittedly, sexual imprintment had everything to do with pleasure. And therein lay the danger for any operative. One emotional misstep, and the bond could turn around and make one the victim.

  He didn’t need all that sexual heat building from being in virtual reality with Elena Rostova to prove that he was very attracted to not just the operative, but also the woman. Her determination to succeed was very intriguing to a man like him. Her fearlessness and willingness to take on everything he threw at her, as well as her sexual response to him, were incredibly seductive.

  He’d kept pushing her, making sure he was in charge, and the more he took, the more he found himself wanting because her capitulation was exciting to him. Not much of a revelation there. Seducing a dangerous woman was a lot like hunting a wild beast; the danger lay in being turned from hunter to hunted.

  Usually, being a man, he could compartmentalize his emotions and the sexual act. And being who he was, he liked to break down each feeling until it was just a chemical explanation, like the stimulated release of vasopressin and oxytocin in the brain, the two hormones that were important in producing orgasm.

  Sexual bonding was all about control, and giving in to emotions would only lead to loss of it. In the early days, he’d pushed himself to the point where he could recite prime numbers during orgasm.

  His lips twisted at the memory. It’d been a while.

  The irony of the situation didn’t escape him. She’d just taken the serum that repressed pain and need, and he was contemplating taking off her clothes and making her need him. It was probably the last emotion she would be having right now.

  But whether she felt it or not didn’t matter because she did need him. He had accepted the responsibility to be her anchor, and that meant, even if she disagreed, making sure she stayed safe. He would need to monitor her even more closely now, even though he wouldn’t interfere.

  She would be overdoing it on her first time. Water. Lots of it. He frowned. He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten to make sure she knew that before taking the serum. The brain wave oscillator wasn’t helping, what with its unintended effect of giving him a dose of her emotional state when they were in sync. Feeling everything the seduced was going through was, in fact, seducing him. And how was it going to be when he had her in his arms in real life, undressing her for himself, giving himself the pleasure of touching her real-life body instead of watching her on a screen or playing with the virtual Helen? She would be the naked one for him to peruse and manipulate, just as she enjoyed doing that to his avatar right now. And how far would he dare to push the bond he’d already established?

  It could go deeper. She hadn’t been told about getting a personal trigger from him precisely because he knew she would prepare herself for it and fight him. It was only natural for the fiercely independent woman in her to resist, even if the operative part might be willing.

  The brain wave synchronization enabled the deep immersion process and that was a success. He was now able to experience remote viewing in virtual reality. The months of training with her in CAVE had meant to stimulate her awareness of him as a man, and her freedom to create the likeness of his avatar was the beginning of the bonding process, allowing her to respond to him mentally and physically. Sexual chemistry, the release of vasopressin and oxytocin—it was in her medical charts. However, he didn’t need the monitoring devices to tell him that that was a success.

  “Minus thirty, over,” T.’s voice came through his earpiece.

  Thirty minutes to zero hour. T. had been one busy lady.

  “Everything’s set here,” he said. “Unless there are any last-minute complications, we’ll commence while you’re in meeting, over.”

  “Just keep me informed. If I don’t answer, it means I’m in the middle of conversation.”

  He smiled. “You’re just trying to avoid coming out to meet me,” he mocked. “What’s the matter, darling, you afraid?”

  There was a pause. “I’m doing my job keeping a few dozen lobbyists and the head honchos of Deutsche International interested in important political issues,” T. said lightly, “while your group of shady characters interrupts our meeting. Does that sound like I’m afraid?”

  “Testy.” He couldn’t help baiting her. “And what if the head honcho decides to meet with Alexander Barinsky? What are you going to do, T.?”

  “I would be in deep shock,” T. shot back dryly. “The top lobbyist for world weapons control being photographed talking to the notorious arms dealer Alexander Barinsky in a public forum? No, I don’t think so. You’ll all be escorted to his private office upstairs to wait for him.”

  “You have the timing all figured out, haven’t you?” he said, lowering his voice. “One day, T., your time will run out.”

  “Melodrama doesn’t suit you…Hades. Why don’t you worry about some other female operative? The one who’s depending on your success in getting the schematics from the system, for instance. Isn’t timing more your problem than mine? I’ll check in again minus ten minutes.”

  She cut off before he could reply and he couldn’t help smiling. Very few people saw the nervous side of Tess Montgomery, and she was ne
rvous indeed. She didn’t want the chance of bumping into his group at all and he knew why. That woman was on the run.

  She was right, though. Timing was going to be crucial where Helen was concerned. He pressed the key on the pad connecting him back to Command.

  “How long will it take once the schematics are transferred, De Clerq? Over.”

  “It shouldn’t take long to shuffle the images in the memory so they’ll think they’re seeing different angles with different people. It’s uploading the virus that will take time. How long can you stay in their control room without being caught? Over.”

  “Small time window,” he replied. “Once the feed is through, have the computer run a quick search for one or both of the Cummings, over.”

  “Will do, over.”

  Technology was a handy asset for high-tech covert work. With the virus in place, the building security would see random sequences of past images from their computer memory while the real feed was forwarded to his laptop and sent back to COMCEN via satellite. That way, COMCEN would be controlling the feed and blocking images of their operatives prowling around the place.

  The distraction created by his group entering the building would help him locate one or both the Cummings. Everyone’s attention would be focused on the commotion, with Deutsche security busily trying to figure out what to do with Alexander Barinsky et al., without causing a publicity furor. Also, the security would be stretched thin, with the VIPs walking in and out.

  The Cummings would be in the building somewhere, probably restricted areas. He could ask Elena to remote view, locate them that way, but she had a more important task. It was bad to depend on only one resource for any mission, anyway. He would track his target down the simple human way—by hacking into their security system and looking at their venue cameras.

  “From past surveillance, we know they usually have three people working surveillance in that control room but our Intel is four months old. Things could change, but Guzman’s still chief of security. T. has already fed him those pills. Be careful,” De Clerq said. “The probability of your being seen entering is fifty-fifty, according to the computer. Over.”