She pointed at the magazine rack. "Reader’s Digest."
"I don't think I'm ever going to get used to this."
"Which ones, David? We don't have time for this."
"The energy drink and the yogurt."
"All right. If that's what it said, then that's what we do."
David put the items on the counter.
"G’day, folks. You on some kind of scavenger hunt?" the man asked in a distinct Australian accent.
The question took David by surprise. "I'm sorry? What?"
"Are you on a scavenger hunt?"
"Yes," said Sharon, "something like that."
"Hold on a second," said the man, pointing a fat finger at David. "You're that bloke who saved all those people in that bank." His face lit up. "It's you, isn't it?"
David responded in the way he had programed himself. "Yeah. I'm David Chance."
It was not a profession that he had done the things mentioned, just an acknowledgment that he was who the man thought he was. Any more than that would have been a direct violation of the words God had shown him the day rescuers delivered him from ten days in the belly of the earth. Tell no one what I have done through you this day. It was not a command as much as a warning. He had sensed that something of great importance was at stake. If he chose to utter one word acknowledging his role in all the miracles that had happened on that day, the consequences would be devastating. So he kept his silence, while others did not. Without his consent or confirmation, news of his exploits were being shared by eye witnesses, and the news media was gobbling up every drop.
"Beauty! I knew it! This is a real honor, mate!"
David gave him a humble nod and slid a ten dollar bill across the counter.
"Terrible tragedy all that. Good thing you were there."
David waited patiently for the man to pick his money up and cash him out, but the man was in a near tizzy.
"How'd you do that, mate? Do you have, like, psychic powers or something."
"I'm not really at liberty to talk about it," said David in a measured rhythm.
"Oh, the FBI saying you can't? I get it. No worries." His hand scooped the ten up while the other punched the sale into the register. "I don't want to pry."
"I appreciate it," said David with pressed lips.
The man held the change out. "Can I ask you one thing before you go?"
David gave a half shrug. "You can ask."
"Will you sign this for me?" He pulled a notepad and pen out from behind the register.
David and Sharon gave each other a look. This might have been funny if circumstances were different. Who would have thought anyone would want his autograph?
David signed the note pad and grabbed his items from the counter along with a plastic spoon from a nearby tray. "Thanks. Have a good day."
The clerk's hands shot out in front of him. "OH! Wait! Could you pick out a scratchy for me?" He gestured toward the display of lottery tickets next to him. "Just one. Any one."
The request made David take another step backward. "Ah, I don't have the kind of power you think I have."
"Please. My family can really use this. We just moved here from Australia. Finances have been rather tight."
He felt Sharon's hand rub his arm. "Just pick one, David, so we can go."
He tapped the hard plastic casing with his finger. "That one. The one with the guy playing eight ball on it."
The man went for the card. And David and Sharon made a quick escape.
This was how it had been for the last ten days. Everyone he ran into seemed to think he was some kind of fortune teller or good luck charm. And the encounters were made even more awkward by the edict of silence put on him by the messages.
"That doesn't get any less weird, does it?" said Sharon, gripping the back handle on the SUV.
David gave her a nonverbal no, it certainly doesn’t.
They climbed into the vehicle. Collins was in communication with his people, and Emily was sitting in the back, feet on the seat, arms wrapped around her legs.
"You okay, honey?" said Sharon, rubbing Emily's back.
Emily gave a less-than-convincing nod.
"Yes. Coordinate with the first responders and apprise them of the situation," said Collins. "We're almost on site. Don't let anything else get past, I want that building secure." His eyes locked on David’s. "There was an incident in the carport underneath Apex Plaza." He slapped the SUV into gear. "A half-naked homeless man took out three of my men and entered the building. They managed to get a dart in him, but it wasn't enough to stop him."
David finished a swig from the energy drink, put it in a drink holder and pulled the lid off the top of the yogurt. "What do you think that’s all about?"
"They don't always have an easy time finding hosts. Sometimes they arrive late, as reinforcements. He got through before we were able to fully secure the perimeter."
"So there will be deranged lunatics in there trying to kill us?" David gulped two big spoonfuls of the yogurt.
"Don't worry, we'll take a team in with us. You'll be..." He stopped mid-sentence. "What are you doing?"
David looked down at the floating spoonful of yogurt hovering in front of his mouth, then back up at Collins. "The messages said eat yogurt, so I'm eating yogurt." The words came out as a gurgle.
"Fair enough," said Collins, returning his eyes to the road.
How did he do that? How did he let the most absurd things just roll off him? Was it a personality trait or did his quiet stability come from years of constant exposure to the strange and bizarre?
By the time the energy drink and yogurt had been consumed, the four of them had arrived at the underground carport. Collins had one of his trusted men stay in the car with Emily, while he, David, and Sharon joined the team as they geared up. They were fitted with bulletproof vests and given holstered dart guns with twelve auto shots. Sharon didn't look happy about it.
"Not what you signed up for?" said David with a sympathetic smile.
She straightened. "Whatever it takes to get Ben back."
Collins checked his weapon. "If something breaks through our ranks, don't hesitate to empty your clip. These things move fast and hit hard. The indigent man who forced his way through our perimeter broke the femur bone on one of our agents with a single kick. These creatures are nothing to mess around with."
"Sir," said the agent next to Collins.
Collins stopped talking and looked over his shoulder. A small group of SWAT officers were crossing the parking garage.
"Morning, Lieutenant," said Collins, offering his hand.
The lieutenant shook his hand and his eyes found David.
Collins noticed and moved to the side. "This is David Chance and his wife Sharon."
"It is a pleasure to meet you both." He shook Sharon's hand lightly then took David's. "It was a heck of thing you did saving those people. We'll do everything we can to get your son back."
"Thank you, Lieutenant."
The man let go and stepped back. "We have men on all the surrounding rooftops and first responders are lined up on the street. Some workers have fled the building. We are screening them against the traffic cam photo you supplied. How do you want to proceed?"
"My men have already searched and secured the parking garage. We need to go floor by floor, room by room. The situation is volatile. We don't know the exact location of the kidnapper, and we have two unidentified men causing havoc on the two bottom floors. It is possible they may be working with the kidnapper, or kidnappers. We want your men armed with tasers or stun sticks. No live rounds."
"Understood."
"This is not a hostage situation, at least not yet. We have no reason to believe that any of these perpetrators are armed. Let's try to end this with as little bloodshed as possible."
"Have there been any demands from the kidnappers?" the lieutenant asked.
"Not yet."
"All right. I'll get my men ready and meet you at the stairwell."
"What if one of them turns?"
"Then this is going to get ugly, real fast."
Chapter 15
"So, Jon," said Roans, turning to look past his microphone. "I'm told that everything we've been hearing about this David Chance guy is a lie. Tell us about it."
Jon felt every nerve give itself over to the alien influence. "It's not all a lie," said his voice, "David did those things, but it was because I told him to. I guided him when he stopped the bombs from going off in Boston. I guided him when he saved the president from being assassinated. I guided him when..."
Roans interrupted. "Hold on, hold on a second. There was actually an assassination attempt on the president?"
"Yes. But David stopped it."
Jon observed in amazement as his body and voice moved to the alien influence. It felt like a second personality had taken over. He was still Jon Blake on the outside, but his insides had become something foreign, something ancient.
"David Chance was at the airport in Maine?"
"Yes."
"Where did the bomb go?"
Jon felt his eyes look at Canary, and his right cheek pinched upward. Canary shrunk back ever so slightly and an odd nervousness washed across her face. Did she know about the assassination attempt as well? Did she know who hid the bomb? Still looking at Canary, his voice said, "It was hidden—by the government."
"A government conspiracy. Just the thing to start the morning off with a bang."
"No. Not a conspiracy, just a cover up, to avoid panic."
"That's a pretty heavy claim. Do you have evidence to support this?"
"When I'm done here, you won't have any doubts. I promise."
Roan took the statement with a grain of humor and pressed on. "Okay. I'll accept that for now. So, what about the mysterious events that took place around flight 304? Were you responsible for all that, too?"
"Yes. I told him to put the food in the vault and I told him to make the call and evacuate the building."
"So, these messages they say he gets, all that is a lie?"
"Yes. I told him everything."
The man looked enraptured, like he hadn't had a guest this exciting in ages. And he wasn't the only one interested. People were gathering at the windows in the hall and in the booth where Amy and Castle stood transfixed on the conversation.
"Why get David Chance involved? Why not do these things yourself?"
"Because I was told to."
"Told to?"
"Yes. God told me to."
Tommy's face became smug. "God told you to make David Chance your errand boy?" Sarcasm melted from his voice.
"Yes. He tells me everything."
"He speaks to you."
"Sometimes he speaks but many times I get feelings from the things I touch. Like right now, through this table between us, I am getting a reading from you."
Tommy kept his forearms on the table and his large frame pressed down on his fat, hairy arms, as if daring Jon to read him. "A reading? Care to share?"
"You have a wife and two daughters. Your youngest is home sick with your wife, but your oldest has a recital today, so she went to school."
"Wow," he said, "that's pretty good." His eyes scanned all the faces looking in from the windows encircling the studio. "I don't remember telling anyone about my morning, or that my daughter was sick. That's impressive."
"Right now there are four people on the phone waiting to talk with you. Three are in state and one is from New Hampshire."
He looked at his screen and his face lit. "He's right again." He looked at his producer. "Amy, can you believe that? He's on the other side of the table. He can't see my monitor."
Jon enjoyed making the man eat his own sarcasm. He also enjoyed the thrilled expressions on the people staring in at him. He was loving this feeling of importance. "Take a call," said his voice. His eyes moved back to where Tommy sat like a child in a toy store.
"Any particular call?" he said.
"No. You pick."
"Hello, Barbara from New Bedford. You're on the phone with Tommy Roan and my guest, Jon Blake."
"It's an honor, Tommy," said the caller.
"Do you have a question for our guest?"
"My question’s kind of changed. Is that okay? I told the screener I wanted to ask what it was like being buried alive, but after hearing what he can do..." Her voice broke. "It's amazing what you can do, Jon."
Jon's mouth started to move, and his face animated. "It's not really something I do, Barbara, it’s something I get to do." He emphasized the word get.
"I just don't have words," she said nervously. "How much can you do? Can you read anyone near you?"
Her statement caused a stir in the crowd standing in the hall behind him. He looked back through the windows at the mixture of expressions and remembered what the voices had said. They would fear him for what he could do. His head snapped back around. "No. I can't read everyone. Most of the time, I have to touch them, or touch something they are holding."
Tommy interjected. "Do you get some kind of psychic impression from the items you touch?"
"I don't know what it is," he said. "Things just come to me."
"Like what?"
"Well, like right now, through the phone line, I can feel Barbara."
Tommy chuckled. "You can feel her through the phone line-"
"Yes and, through that connection, I know she is wearing a blue blouse, jeans, and running shoes."
Barbara gasped.
"Is he right, Barbara?"
There was a crackly silence.
"Barbara? You there?"
"Yes," she squeaked.
"Was he right?"
"Yes," she squeaked again.
A voice vibrated in Jon's head. "This part, you will enjoy."
"Barbara?" said Jon's voice, in a chilling tone.
There was a short pause, and then, "Yes?"
"I can see everything you are seeing. Do you understand what I mean when I say that?"
She took in a shuddered breath.
"I can see what your eyes have now returned to, but you don't have to fear. I won't tell anyone."
A static click left the room in a cavernous silence.
Tommy squirmed in his chair. "I guess we lost Barbara." His head spun toward his screen. "And it looks like Barbara isn't the only caller you've scared off. The lines are empty." He looked toward Amy and Castle in the booth.
Jon's body leaned in toward the mic. His voice spoke softly. "Barbara, if you're still there—if you're still listening—don't cry. Everyone has secrets. Yours are no worse than anyone else's."
He noticed Tommy's arms slide off the table. Whether it was an unconscious act or a direct response to what he’d said, it didn't matter. The air in the room had filled with fear.
A female voice vibrated in his head. "They are yours to play with." He felt the ghostly tendrils sliding from his veins. "Play nice."
As Jon's body released, he looked around at all the stunned and horror-stricken faces staring back at him. They feared him. He could see it in their eyes and in the way they murmured to each other. He brought his eyes back to Canary. Her head sat at a slight tilt as she studied his face intently. Could she tell they had released him? Could she sense with her observant eyes the change in his personality and the nervousness building in his gut?
Tommy broke the silence. "We'll take a short break to hear from our sponsor. Don't go anywhere. Be back in a minute. I'm Tommy Roan." The room filled with music, but Tommy's hand shot out and slid the volume down before it reached full volume. "I gotta say, that was the craziest thing I've ever seen in my life. How long have you been setting this up?"
Jon's brows tightened. "What do you mean?"
"This prank. You and Castle are in on this?"
He looked at the producer’s window. "Amy, did Castle put you up to this?"
Amy and Castle stared in stunned silence.
"Come on. It's a gag—right?"
Jon felt the corner of his mouth lift, but this time, the ironic smile was not influenced by the voices. It was his own. There was something about Tommy Roan's nervous discomfort that pleased him. It gave him a feeling of great power to be able to make this influential radio personality squirm like a caged rat.
It was a feeling he could get used to.
Chapter 16
Sharon Chance regretted her decision to come, and her thoughts were mirrored in the murmurs and looks she got from some of the SWAT officers. She had no business being in on this raid. This was for trained professionals. She and David should have stayed with Emily, who was curled up on the back seat of the SUV, scared of the strange man in the front seat, wondering if he would turn into one of the bad men.
The group lurched forward, and she gripped David's vest with her frightened fingers. There was noise up ahead, screaming and crashing, but no gunfire. The breaths Sharon managed to exhale came out in shaking bursts, and her heart was making her tight black vest pulsate. More screams echoed through the hard stairwell as the front group of SWAT men filed out into the first floor hallway.
The group of FBI agents pushed forward, and a woman in a white business shirt and green skirt scurried by with a look of terror on her face. Had she seen the deranged man who got past the FBI agents? Or something worse?
David looked back at his wife. "You okay?"
She couldn't find her voice. Her mind was locked on a vision of the half-naked man ripping the SWAT officer limb from limb. Fear held her throat in a choking grip.
"Do you want to go back? You don't have to do this." His words shook her back to reality.
Of course she had to do this! There was no other option; her son was in danger. If the devils didn't want her here, this was precisely where she needed to be! She wasn't giving up now, not when she was so close. "No!" she said, mostly to herself. "I have to do this. I can't go back."
David gripped her hand and she felt his strength leak into her. "It's okay. They won't let anything happen to us. Somehow I know it."
Lies (The David Chance Series Book 3) Page 10
