The Listener

by Christopher Carrolli

  * * * *

  Roman Hadley sat nervously behind his long mahogany desk, his left hand resting comfortably against his chin, wrinkles of wonder etched into his expression. He’d just received word that the mission had been accomplished. The boy, Ryan, was safe in the prepared haven where he would remain hidden. Amid the relief that his plan was moving into action, lingered an overt skepticism, a profound ruefulness that crept through his heart at the situation.

  He would never harm Ryan, nor was that the intention. A part of him did not want to see the boy imprisoned into the same underground and clandestine existence that his life had been. He tried to override those thoughts, but felt himself becoming angrier at the repetitive realization that he’d spent years waiting for a way out.

  It took an immense amount of concentration to suppress the thought that when the time was absolute, he would abandon Ryan with the secret society then disappear. It was the only option, as the group would never agree to an exchange. Then, he would contact her, and together they could bring down this endless and sinister assemblage.

  It had to be done; he refused to spend the rest of his life cloaking his thoughts from the others. If they knew what he was thinking now, they would kill him. He could bring them down when he was once again on the outside. She would help him.

  After all, she wasn’t far away...

  He swerved his leather chair around to face the cabinet on the wall behind him, and with the touch of a button, the cabinet doors parted, revealing three security monitors in the form of small television sets. The black and white image on the first of the screens displayed an uneventful live depiction facing the outside of the underground compound; the second showed the door to the room where he was kept, and the third was a much closer view of Ryan, asleep but stirring on the bed.

  He was awakening, slowly gaining his faculties as the effects of the chloroform were subsiding, Hadley thought. He guessed that the boy had already discovered his strange and unfamiliar whereabouts, but remained unable to respond physically. He would soon be fully cognizant, and when he was, Hadley would distract him as best as possible.

  There would be many things Ryan would need to hear, to learn, and eventually come to appreciate. It would be a difficult undertaking, especially with someone so young, someone so close to his mother, his only family, but Hadley would try to appeal to the boy’s fascination with his ability, his eagerness to learn. Then through continuous adulation, he would instill in Ryan a self-esteem that hopefully, would spark an obsession, creating a strong desire and willingness to proceed.

  Unfortunately, Hadley was now the one distracted after listening for the boy’s location this evening. It was her voice that he’d unexpectedly heard with the others...and with the boy. Her connection to Ryan had been an unexpected development, and he wondered if his proximity right now was too close, close enough that her involvement with Ryan might endanger her from those who were listening. Now, he wished deep inside that he’d searched for a way out many years ago, even if it meant being killed or disposed of—like an ineffective, damaged product. He would make it easy to find Ryan when the time came.

  And so Sidney Pratt was awake. He felt relief that his continuously intrusive searches of Sidney’s mind had not killed him, but it would be only a matter of time before the boy called out to him. Then they would be looking for Ryan, and him, as they were now aware of his involvement, and that he was also a listener, the mastermind orchestrating the secret society and indulging in new-age psychic espionage.

  After all the years of working with the highly sophisticated team of investigators, it was time to lose them, to abandon all contact. Their next case was to find him, and they were the best in their field. Once he vanished, he would see to it that Ryan was located and saved. He hoped it would be possible, and equally possible that he would survive this mutiny; yet a quiet dread within his heart seemed to whisper otherwise.

  * * * *

  Wiley’s habit of gulping steaming hot coffee came in handy after being up all night studying the file on Ryan Quinn that Dylan had faxed him, as well as the files of cases that Hadley had directed and was subsequently briefed on. There hadn’t been much to gain from the latter files, but Wiley had been amazed at the extent of Ryan Quinn’s ability, as documented by the team. It was a unique psychic endowment, a direct parallel to Hadley’s own. There was no doubt that Ryan was seen as a valuable asset to this hidden society.

  Not having joined the Bureau until 1980, Wiley hadn’t been part of the FBI’s investigations into remote viewing and hearing, nor did he ever maintain any interest in paranormal occurrences or abilities. But in 1987, he was one of the agents assigned to the highly secretive and controversial case of a psychic rogue group that had broken away from the FBI’s remote psychic projects; they had branched out on their own, achieving success by obtaining classified information and other forms of espionage.

  Through the years, he researched remote viewing, clairaudience, clairvoyance, and many other psychic abilities and paranormal occurrences. He never gave the issues much thought or belief until meeting some of the subjects the Bureau had studied at the time, who fully demonstrated their abilities for him. He had also worked with psychics on missing persons’ cases, some of whom were acclaimed and proven successes.

  Then one day the Bureau came up with a name, an imposter masquerading as one of them, passing right under their radar—Roman Hadley. Wiley was among a gathering of agents that had searched for years, unable to locate the elusive mastermind. He had no idea when he went to the hospital last night that the missing child had anything to do with the university’s paranormal investigative society. When Susan Logan mentioned the name of the man he’d searched years for, he felt the twitching of his soul, as if some force reached inside and tried to snatch it from him. He was stunned into silence. Hadley was right in front of them the whole time.

  Now Wiley wondered if Hadley was looking for a way out after all these years, planning to induct the boy as his ultimate replacement—a possible theory. If so, it might be easy to corner him before he disappeared altogether. That would be much easier if he were to discover Hadley’s original and true identity, a task the Bureau had tried to accomplish for years and failed.

  It seemed as though the man was nobody at all before he became Roman Hadley. What little information was gathered from the discovery of an underground compound in Washington, DC, had identified persons only as “subjects,” and therefore led to nothing. They could only guess that Hadley had been there.

  The waitress in Ed’s Diner came and refilled his coffee, interrupting his thoughts for a moment. He always came here and sat alone at a table, pondering details and sequences of events. A meeting was scheduled with the investigative team, and Susan Logan, today at the university at 1:00 pm. He glanced at his watch—12:30. He would interview them further about the events the night before, as he was still unable to speak with either Sidney Pratt or Annie Quinn.

  The agents investigating the scene last night had turned up a sliver of information, and he was about to share that with the team; although, it wasn’t much to go on. There could always be something, some minute detail they might remember about Hadley that may work in finding him. Sometimes, people didn’t understand how significant something small really was. He would find out soon. He finished his second cup of coffee, paid the check, and left for the university.

  * * * *

  The voice was soft and faint, a whisper, but it woke him. He rolled his eyes around the room—no one was there. The night before, after everyone left, he thought he’d heard someone say his name, but it was hard to tell. Between the weakness and the pain medication, Sidney slumbered in and out, unable to stay awake for long.

  He felt better today than when he was last awake, and he felt sure that the soft voice called his name...Sidney...

  The more he thought on it, the more it sounded like Ryan, yet Ryan wasn’t here. Funny, Dylan didn’t seem surprised when he asked about Ryan. Susan had
answered for him, and she didn’t even know Ryan Quinn. Then again, being a psychiatrist, she could have been controlling the situation, seeing to it that he didn’t stress himself.

  Something was going on—but what?

  He would concern himself with it later. Right now, his eyes were closing again, slipping him back into his restful abode.

  * * * *

  The team sat inside their headquarters, along with Susan, waiting for Agent Wiley, who had called a meeting with the four of them. Their faces were only slightly rested after the long day and night that preceded today. Glum faces glanced over at the door when a steady knock came at exactly one o’clock; Wiley arrived on time—down to the minute.

  Once inside, Dylan extended him the courtesy of his own regular seat at the head of the long conference table, since Wiley would be addressing them. After helping themselves to coffee, (and yet another for Wiley) they reported to him that Hadley’s number was disconnected, and the solitary email address they had for him had returned emails as unknown.

  “Yes, I figured as much,” he said, then continued. “Our agents questioned most of everyone working at the hospital last night; no one saw anything inside. The person who took Ryan, be it Hadley, or a hired hand, did an extremely inconspicuous job of it—undoubtedly professional. We spoke with potential witnesses outside the hospital, and we may have a lead from a woman who was there in the parking lot last night, picking up a friend.

  “At approximately 8:15, she saw someone carrying, with both hands, one of those large, hefty hospital laundry sacks out of the building. This person then carefully placed the sack into the backseat of a waiting limousine, and then got inside via the same door. The car drove off immediately. She said she first took notice because of the fancy stretch; she admired it for a few seconds then turned away, and when she looked back, she saw the person out of nowhere. She found it strange the way he carried the sack and even stranger the way he so cautiously handled it, placing it into, of all things, a limo.

  “I’m almost positive that Ryan was inside that laundry sack.” Again, Wiley was abrupt and to the point, the sound of his revelation bringing sighs of tension, tears of fear, and hung heads in trepidation.

  “The witness was positive it was a male, but couldn’t see his face too well in the dark or from the position in which she was parked. Given this information, we can be sure that Hadley is behind the kidnapping, and he isn’t stupid enough, or young enough, to carry this out on his own. He has accomplices: the man carrying the sack, the driver—question is, how many?

  “Let’s also keep in mind that Hadley is not out to hurt Ryan; he can’t afford to. Ryan is an extremely valuable asset to this rogue group; they need his ability. Finding Ryan, to them, is like winning the mega-lottery. He is also young, and with his ability at a peaking point, they can study him extensively with less resistance than an adult.

  “Obviously, Hadley discovered Ryan through working with your society. I believe that Hadley then reported Ryan’s information to the group, and he may want to use Ryan as a trade-off for his own services—just a theory, anyway.”

  “So, you don’t think Hadley is the leader of this group?” Dylan asked, confused.

  “Well, he is the one in charge, let’s say. That doesn’t mean he is the ultimate overseer. I think he reports back to an authority, whether there is one or more, I can’t say. But for Hadley to receive a false identity as an agent, then live successfully without being detected...” He paused. “Let’s just say that someone higher up has provided it.”

  “You mean someone in the government?” Susan asked with incredulous disbelief.

  “Well, doctor,” Wiley hissed at her assumption. “That would be difficult to say or even pinpoint for that matter. I mean, whoever began fueling this rogue group may have been FBI, or of some higher authority. We couldn’t know that at this point. Many of the people even distantly connected with the Bureau’s psychic projects, at that time, have been investigated. Many of them are dead, and some have continued to lead normal, explainable, innocent lives; any remaining leads proved to be dead ends.

  “Roman Hadley is the key to all of this. I think that if we bring down the main one, we bring them all down, like dominoes. Actually, I don’t mean this the way it sounds, but Ryan’s abduction may be just the situation the FBI needs to break this case once and for all.”

  “You mentioned that Hadley might be using Ryan as a trade-off for himself,” Brett said. “Does that mean that you think Hadley himself may have been an unwilling participant all of these years?”

  Wiley was impressed by the young man’s perception.

  “It’s possible, yes. Though at some point, Hadley did come over to their side. We have proof of his handsome compensation that obviously eliminated the need for continuous coercion.”

  “How exactly would this group coax Ryan into submitting to them?” Leah asked, the others seeming to echo the concern.

  “That is what scares me,” Wiley said. “They would probably threaten his mother; she is his only family. They may threaten Sidney Pratt, which is why I need to see him as soon as possible. I need to find out if Ryan is still speaking to Sidney through clairaudient projection. We need to do everything we can to find this boy. I also noticed in Ryan’s file that he is telepathic?”

  “We seem to think so,” Dylan said, then explained how Ryan was more in touch with his telepathic side than Sidney was, and that clairaudience was a form of telepathy. This, Wiley already knew.

  “It’s become apparent to me, as well as the rest of the Bureau, that this is going to be a very unusual case, one that is dependent upon the utilization of psychic abilities to help solve. In order to apprehend and dismantle this group, we are going to have to play their own game, by their own rules. They have gotten away with illegal conduct and dangerous exploits all of these years through the use of psychic ability; we are going to have to bring them down exactly the same way.”

  “We are all going to help in any way we can,” Leah said.

  “Great, because we are going to need it,” Wiley said, and turned to Susan. “When can you get the Doc to let me see Sidney Pratt?”

  “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s only been a day—”

  “Lean on him,” he said. “Time is crucial. They may move Ryan to anywhere in the world, and if they do, we may never find him. What about the mother? If she wants to find her son, she needs to talk to me.”

  In the face of Wiley’s frankness, Susan faltered. She knew he was right; after all, she couldn’t let Annie withdraw. She needed to play an active role in finding her son.

  “Let me check on her,” she said. “I will set it up.”

  “Let’s do it,” Wiley said, and rose from his chair.

  Chapter Ten

  Annie sat up in her hospital bed, unable to feel the onslaught of the attacking nerves that surged inside her. She lingered, numb from the sedation, though it was not as heavy today. She had to find Ryan, but every time she managed to get out of bed, it was like floating, until her head grew heavy and her stomach turned. Then, she would allow herself to be tucked back into bed by the nurses, never having made it farther than the bathroom before whimpering with defeat.

  Today, Susan Logan returned, telling her that an FBI agent named Wiley was here to see her, and that the search for Ryan was ongoing. Susan felt it best to have a meeting with the agent, here in her room, along with the investigators also. There was a coordinated and conscious effort to find Ryan, and the sooner they all met, the better. Annie agreed, and now all were assembled in chairs surrounding the bed in her hospital room.

  The tall, blond man introduced himself as Agent Wiley of the FBI, the man heading the search and investigation into Ryan’s abduction.

  “We do have a potential suspect,” Wiley said. He explained to her who Roman Hadley was, his role with the investigative society, and how he discovered Ryan. She knew most of the facts already, but still, the fact that the man was part of some secret psychic s
ociety who wanted to use her son for his ability blew her mind into magnified amazement. He explained to her how the group broke away from the FBI’s remote psychic studies, surviving for years, studying subjects on their own, often against their will. Now they had laid their claim to her son.

  “But, I want you to remain calm, Annie,” he said. “Until now, we never had a strong enough link to locate them. This time we are going to find them because now they’ve made a catastrophic move on their behalf; they’ve kidnapped a child. We are going to nail Roman Hadley, and this group, and bring your son home. I promise.”

  A waterfall of tears washed down Annie’s face in a lament of helpless abandon. Susan moved closer to her and held her hand, reassuring her. Then, Wiley spoke again.

  “Annie,” he said, in a surprisingly soft tone unmatched by his rugged countenance. “I would also like to explain that the FBI is on this exclusively from top to bottom. One of the reasons for that is, unlike a regular abduction, we cannot get the media involved in this, at least not yet. We remain unsure how large this group is, or how dangerous they can be. These people are powerfully proven psychic beings, possessing heightened states of abilities such as clairaudience, clairvoyance, and remote viewing.

  “They’re also criminal minds, conducting the highest order of national and possibly international espionage. One wrong move in our strategy, and they could relocate Ryan to anywhere in the world, and we may never find him. Hadley probably already knows that we’re on to him, as he has virtually abandoned the investigative society, leaving no further contact. We have no idea how, or to what extent, Hadley and the group may be observing us right at this very moment.

  She remembered a similar fear about Ian the day in the Library. The look on Annie’s face betrayed her thoughts...

  Then how the hell do you expect to find him?

  “Annie, I know there are certain things you don’t believe or subscribe to,” Susan said, clutching her hand, “but, we are going to have to fight fire with fire. The team and I are going to work with the FBI as much as possible to find Ryan, and we will find him.”