The Telepathic Clans Omnibus

by B R Kingsolver

  “He’s right, Seamus,” Kallen interjected. “Hell, it would be worth it to them to blow the whole installation if they thought they could get you. You’re the one who set the rules, and for good reason. You and the heir are to be protected at all costs. If you need a family member, we’ll delay and get Jared down here from Baltimore.”

  “Jared can’t do what I can,” Seamus insisted. “We need someone who can project O’Donnell in a way that’s unmistakable. Go in, smash shields, and get some answers, real answers.”

  “Can I be of any help?” Brenna asked.

  Slowly, they all turned to look at her.

  “I’m a family member, right? I have the O’Donnell Gift. I admit that I’m not quite as physically imposing as Seamus.”

  Seamus was shaking his head. “I don’t like it. I don’t like putting you in danger.”

  “Why? Because I’m a girl? I see women putting on combat gear,” she motioned to Rebecca in a bulletproof vest with an assault rifle.

  Kallen looked thoughtful, Collin looked as though he had an internal conflict going on, his face alternatively looking accepting, worried, rejecting.

  Rebecca spoke up, “You know, there’s a way to take her in there without them knowing who she is.”

  Everyone turned to her.

  “Bundle her up in all the gear, but put me out in front as the granddaughter. I do the talking, take the risk, she does the shield busting and mind rummaging. Who’s going to be able to tell? When we’re finished, all they’ll know is that Seamus’ granddaughter is a tall brunette with a hell of an attitude.”

  Kallen openly gaped at her. Collin looked thoughtful. Seamus opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again, shut it again, then cocked his head to the side and looked back and forth between them. “You’re going to merge your minds, aren’t you? Brenna, how many people can you cover with your shields?”

  She wasn’t sure. She reached out and covered all of those in their circle, then extended until she covered everyone in the room. “I don’t know. Everyone here right now. I’ve never tried it before, but at least this many.” She swept her arm to indicate the entire room.

  “Holy mother,” Kallen breathed. He turned to Rebecca, “How large can you expand your air shield?”

  She closed her eyes and was silent for a moment, then opened them. “I have this room shielded,” she announced.

  Collin stared at them, wide-eyed. “Hell, we don’t need to send in an assault force, we’ll just beat them up with two wilders barely out of diapers.”

  Brenna stepped toward him and, with her face only inches from his, hissed in a low, deadly voice, “You might consider rephrasing that last remark.” Then on a spear thread, You didn’t seem to think I was too young this morning when you were sticking your dick in my mouth, something that is unlikely to ever happen again. It’s nice to know what you really think of me. Old enough to screw but not old enough to be given any respect? If you have a legitimate reason, tactically or strategically, that would prevent me from effectively carrying out an assignment, then I’ll listen. But right now, you’re perilously close to being the third man I’ve killed.

  Not privy to the mental conversation between Collin and Brenna, but extremely aware one was going on, Seamus sent a spear thread to Kallen. Can you defuse this situation before I have to step in?

  Brenna was so close to Collin that her breasts pressed against his stomach, the look on her face chilling enough that the room had fallen silent. Kallen stepped close to them. “I don’t think anyone is suggesting we don’t go in there in force, but the ladies have a good idea. Rebecca in heels is well over six feet, and able to project a feeling of lethal force held in check.

  “We bundle up Brenna in combat gear so she’s not recognizable, and stroll into the German embassy with a force of thirty and another twenty outside. Five peel off and take care of the security cameras, ten hold the exit route, and the rest waltz into Goldenstein’s office. Brenna blows his shields, and Rebecca does the talking with me directing the whole charade.

  “It’ll work, Collin, in and out in fifteen minutes. Then we double down on the number of Protectors and take CBW’s offices, run the same scenario. We come out knowing what they know, maybe we find Cindy, but at worst we’ve put the whole lot on notice. If they’re not behind this, we’ll have them searching for Cindy also, just to get us off their backs. They can probably put another fifty men on the street.”

  With a look of relief on his face, Seamus said, “I’ll approve that. Make it work, Kallen.” He turned and walked back to Mike Riley to inform him of the plan.

  Rebecca took Brenna’s arm and pulled her away. “We need to get you dressed.”

  Twenty minutes later, Brenna wore a bulletproof vest, helmet with face shield, and carried a mini assault rifle – unloaded. “Brenna, I’ve seen you shoot, and for all of our safety, you’re better using mental weapons. No offense.” Rebecca told her.

  “Can’t I carry a frying pan?”

  The ready room was momentarily silent then erupted into laughter. Rebecca grinned at her.

  Eight vans pulled up around the German embassy and Protectors poured out, taking control of the street and the minds of the guards on duty. Kallen led his force in the front door and they swept up everyone they met, controlling the norms and intimidating the telepaths. Five men split off and headed to the security control room to disable the electronics and confiscate the recordings.

  In the Cultural Affairs section, five telepaths confronted them. Kallen explained their mission, “We’re here to discuss an urgent matter with Herr Goldenstein, get the bloody hell out of the way.” Brenna, blow their first level shields.

  In quick succession, all five screamed and were taken prisoner by the Protectors. Rebecca strode to the door of Goldenstein’s office, pushing through without opening it by using her air shield as a battering ram. She, Kallen and Brenna were merged under Brenna’s shields while all three were physically contained within Rebecca’s air shield. Kallen stood to the side, looking intimidating, and called the shots.

  “Herr Goldenstein,” Rebecca said calmly, leaning forward with her hands on his desk, “My name is Brenna O’Donnell, and we’re missing some of our people. We aren’t happy. My grandfather is not happy. Do you happen to know where they are?”

  “How dare you come crashing in here like this? This is sovereign German territory. We will have you arrested.”

  Brenna smashed his first-level shield, and Rebecca’s expression never changed, nor did the tone or volume of her voice. “We really don’t have time to play games. We both know what your real position is, and where your real loyalties lie. We are also aware that German operatives have been harassing our people here, in Baltimore, and in New York. Now, are you going to drop your shields and let us understand the operations you’re running and what you’ve done with our people, or do we have to break them down?”

  He tried to use Neural Disruption, letting it go indiscriminately. Brenna’s shields deflected it, and she broke through his second and third level shields.

  “Herr Goldenstein, my patience is wearing very thin. And if you try something stupid like that again, I’ll not only break your shields, I’ll play handball with your soul,” Rebecca continued in the same calm, conversational tone.

  This is getting tiresome. Drop your damn shields. NOW. Brenna sent, smashing his fourth and fifth level shields. Sobbing, he did. She and Kallen plundered his mind, gathering details of every operation, every operative, every person on his payroll, his codes, phone numbers, passwords, even every euro he had skimmed and the numbers of his Swiss accounts. All the while, Rebecca continued to talk to him in the same calm, unhurried voice.

  Kallen broadcast to his team, We’re clearing out. To Collin, waiting a block away, he sent, He doesn’t know any more than we do. There have been rumors of an unauthorized op being run, but he hasn’t been able to pin it down. We’re headed for CBW.

  More than two hundred Protectors descended on CBW’s of
fices, covering all exits. When Kallen and his team arrived, they overwhelmed the security force and poured through the front door. Brenna, surrounded by Protectors, followed Kallen and Rebecca to the fourth floor executive offices.

  In less than twenty minutes they controlled the entire facility, and rough, quick interrogations of all personnel found there ensued. Again, they came up with almost nothing. A couple of people, not those at the top, knew of some German operatives in the Washington area who had been hired by a British organization under the CBW umbrella, but no one knew what they were doing there.

  Before they left, Rebecca delivered Seamus’ message, “Herr Mueller, I passed this same message to Herr Goldenstein. Seamus O’Donnell wants you, and your employers, to understand that you operate here under his sufferance. Recent events are causing him to reconsider whether this is a good idea. Do you understand what I’m saying? Some help in recovering our people would be seen as a sign of good will. Without such a sign, you will find it increasingly difficult to operate here.”

  ~~~

  At two o’clock in the morning, a call came in from the metro police that three of the Protectors assigned to Cindy had been found. All three had been shot in the head. The fourth man and Cindy were still missing. A sweep of the area turned up her purse in a dumpster two blocks from the bodies.

  Another two days passed without any break, then at nine in the evening on the third day after she went missing, a police patrol car called in. They had found a nude, redheaded woman lying in the street in Takoma Park. She looked as though she was the victim of a hit-and-run, but the lack of clothes cast doubt on that. She was taken by ambulance to the nearest emergency center in critical condition.

  Brenna and Dorothy ran into the emergency room. Dorothy gained access to her by identifying herself as the victim’s personal physician. She emerged fifteen minutes later with the physician on duty. Brenna had been following things through Dorothy’s mind, and if she hadn’t been so angry probably would have been sick to her stomach.

  “We’ve got her somewhat stable, so we’ll prep her for surgery, pump another pint or two of blood into her, and as soon as the surgeons are ready, we’ll see what can be done,” the doctor was telling Dorothy.

  “We have a surgeon coming in, he’s about 15 minutes out,” Dorothy told him.

  “We have competent doctors here. Is this anyone I might know?”

  “Mark Cavanaugh. I believe he has privileges here,” Dorothy said.

  “Yes, I know Mark. He’s one of the best. How do you know him, Doctor, sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “Dr. Cavanaugh. Dorothy. Mark is my older brother.”

  They trailed the gurney with Cindy on it upstairs to the surgery, where they were stopped at the waiting room. Dorothy started quietly cursing. “I need to be closer. I was able to stop some of the internal bleeding in the emergency room, but I can’t work at a distance.”

  Brenna sent her mind to Cindy’s, then into her body and made an experimental nudge on a muscle. She turned to Dorothy, “Can you work through me? I can access her from here.”

  Dorothy’s eyes widened. Eagerly she said, “Let me see.” She entered Brenna’s mind, and followed her into Cindy’s mind and body. Amazing. Yes, I can work like this. Brenna, can you look inside her skull? I think she has a fracture and might be bleeding.

  Dorothy was correct, and while she worked on the internal abdominal bleeding, Brenna started working on trying to stem the bleeding inside Cindy’s head. The techniques were ones she’d learned from Elsie and Dorothy and practiced under Rory, but she had never tried to heal damaged capillaries inside someone’s head before.

  What’s going on in there? How is she doing? Seamus’ thought speared into her.

  It wasn’t her who responded, but Dorothy. Get the bloody hell out of her head, you idiot. And stay the hell out.

  Seamus withdrew. Brenna forced herself to relax, take a deep breath, and refocus on what she’d been doing. Five minutes later, another spear came in, but to Dorothy, not her. She could hear it as an echo because Dorothy was in her mind.

  I’m walking in the front door. Status?

  She felt relief flood through Dorothy. God, am I glad you’re here. She’s prepped and on the table. They’re waiting for surgeons. They’ve got a general and an orthopedic here, and they’re getting started. Waiting on the neuro. They know you’re coming. She’s stable, BP low, seven major broken bones plus her hands, fractured skull and subdural hematoma, nine broken ribs, punctured left lung, major abdominal bleeding as the result of rape with a sharp object. She was dehydrated, no stomach contents.

  Are you in there?

  No.

  Why the hell not?

  I’m not a surgeon and don’t have privileges here.

  Bloody hell. Scrub. I need you in there. A handsome, brown haired man rushed through the door. “Angela,” he barked at a nearby nurse, “get Dr. Cavanaugh scrubbed. I need her in there.” He stopped, looked at Brenna, “Who are you?”

  Dorothy sent him a spear thread, She’s the person no one will leave alone. She’s working on the subdural hematoma.

  Are you a doctor? He asked. Brenna shook her head.

  “I’m a neuroscientist from Hopkins who’s been studying with Elsie and Dorothy. And I’m sorry I’m speaking out loud, but I’m having a hard time multitasking at the moment,” Brenna explained.

  Leave her the hell alone, Dorothy sent. I’ve been working through her because she can work remotely. She’s doing the head, I’m doing the abdomen.

  On his way to scrub, Mark Cavanaugh grabbed a nurse by the arm. “Can you find a quiet room for that young woman there? Somewhere she won’t be disturbed? That’s her cousin in there, and she needs some place where she can be alone for a while.” Then he was through the door and gone.

  The nurse looked at Brenna, who was standing in the middle of the room, swaying on her feet and even paler than normal. “Come with me dear, I’ll put you someplace you won’t be disturbed.”

  She led Brenna to a small room with a narrow bed, explaining it was a room doctors on call used. The nurse asked if she’d like anything, brought her some water and a cup of coffee, then left and closed the door. Mercifully alone and quiet at last, Brenna sank down on the bed and turned her full attention to the damage inside of Cindy’s brain.

  Half an hour later, Mark asked if he could look at what she was doing. Nice work, Dr. Morgan. I’m going to drill a hole in her skull to drain the blood. The neurosurgeon is scrubbing up. As soon as we relieve the pressure, I think you can turn your attention to the neurons. Dorothy says you’re telekinetic. If you can, locate any bone fragments and push them out through the opening we’ll make. It would be a lot gentler than what the surgeon would do to extract them.

  Mark Cavanaugh was a gifted surgeon with the Healing Gift. With the other three surgeons working on Cindy, Dorothy healing her, and Brenna, unknown to the neurosurgeon, helping out, in six hours they were able to wheel her out to the recovery room.

  Brenna had never felt so tired in her life. She had been in a state of total concentration, knowing if she screwed up a friend might die. Feeling totally inadequate and unprepared for the work she was doing escalated the tension even more. Her head hurt, her neck and shoulders felt as if they were on fire.

  Mark and Dorothy came out of the operating room with the rest of the doctors, and Brenna thought they looked as tired as she felt. The neurosurgeon was saying, “I’m telling you, Mark, it was the damnedest thing I’ve ever seen. It was almost as though her brain was trying to repair itself.”

  One of the two orthopedic surgeons turned to Dorothy. “For someone who styles herself as an ‘old-fashioned country doctor’, you are a hell of a surgeon. Thank you for your help. That was a bad one.”

  Dorothy bowed her head in acknowledgement and started to turn away, but Mark put his arm around her shoulders and spoke up, “Don’t listen to that rural GP crap. She served three different residencies before she went back to
the country, internal medicine, general surgery, and orthopedics. She may not spend the time in the OR we do here in the city, but she’s damn good, and I’ve never been prouder of my little sister than I am today.”

  Brenna was suddenly struck by a thought. “Cavanaugh? Are you related to Elsie?”

  Dorothy laughed. “We’re her two youngest, didn’t you know?”

  “But, but, she’s …”

  Mark laughed. “Yes, she had us a little bit older than most people have kids.” Hell, Brenna, she’s only two hundred five, she’ll probably bury another husband before she’s through. She was about Seamus’ age when she had us.

  He looked at Dorothy and Brenna. I’d like to sit down and talk with you and our other team member before we stand down. Let’s go get something to eat.

  Other team member? Brenna looked around, confused.

  A very pretty auburn haired woman in an immaculate blue business suit walked in from the waiting room. Dinner sounds good. I know a place right around the corner, and we’ll still be close if we’re needed. “Brenna, I’m Moira O’Reilly.”

  Collin walked in behind her, went to Brenna and handed her a bottle of cold orange juice. She could see the concern in his eyes, and worry for her rolled out of him like a wave. She had barely spoken to him for the past two days. She took the juice and drained half of it.

  “Dr. O’Reilly is a Clan psychiatrist,” Collin explained.

  Brenna gave him a wan smile, “You think I need my head examined? It’s these two, who had me doing brain surgery, who need a shrink.” He looked so damn good. She stepped into him and he folded her into his arms. “I was so scared. I have no idea what I’m doing and I just kept thinking all I had to do was screw up once and she might die.”

  Moira put a hand on her shoulder. “I was mostly helping Mark and Dorothy, but I checked on you and what you were doing regularly. You did just fine, better than I could have.”