Dangerous Minds: A Cyrus Cooper Thriller: Book One

by Xander Weaver

  “Bringing the FBI in on this was a bad call,” Boone chastised. “You know how they are about compartmentalized information.”

  Cyrus didn’t respond at first. He continued looking out the passenger side window as they drove through city streets. “What would you have done in my place?” he asked at last. His tone was entirely neutral. If Boone expected to start an argument over the matter, Cyrus wasn’t engaging.

  It was Boone’s turn for a long moment of silence. “There should’ve been a field team standing by. It was important to keep this all in-house.”

  “Why? The Red Queen wanted a copy of Waterford’s database. Things escalated and Waterford went off the reservation. Based on her psych profile, it was unanticipated. You know how these things go. She was going to kill me and Ashley. Matters spiraled and I didn’t have the resources to round everyone up on my own. Besides, you love pulling rank on the Feds.”

  More than the words coming from Boone, Ashley was reading far more questions as they moved through his mind. That was the first time she realized the truth of the situation. Cyrus hadn’t told Boone what really happened. He’d kept the truth of her abilities out of his report and it had led to holes in the story that could definitely be potential problems for his career.

  “You were supposed to retrieve her research,” Boone acknowledged at last. “You’re telling me that, over the course of almost two weeks, you never had a chance to access the information? You didn’t learn anything?”

  “I didn’t even get access to the research lab until twenty-four hours before everything went to hell. And even with my access, I couldn’t login to the database. Only Gertrude had access to that, as far as I can tell. I was going to use her terminal to pull a database dump the first chance I had—but, again, things went pear-shaped before I had the chance.”

  Ashley caught what she thought was an accusatory glare from Boone following Cyrus’s statement, but his mind Read entirely blank. It was as if he were on the fence when it came to believing Cyrus’s story. He wasn’t predisposed in favor or against Cyrus. In fact, he seemed to be entirely neutral, while suspicious at the same time. It made her wonder exactly what sort of work this Coalition really did. The sense she was getting from Boone was that, despite his looks, he was a very intelligent and dangerous man.

  “Pear-shaped?” Boone asked. He looked back at the road and gave the comment some thought. “That’s the other part of this that’s not really working for me. You said Waterford just went off the reservation? Something must have triggered it.”

  “Her grandson, William, broke into the lab,” Cyrus clarified. “He was looking for proof of his grandmother’s work. That’s what sent her over the edge. After that, she just flipped.”

  “But why? What was William after?”

  A sudden shortness of breath gripped Ashley. She felt on the verge of a panic attack. Cyrus was trying to provide a detailed account of events without letting his people know about the extrasensory abilities instilled in her and her brother as the result of Gertrude’s work. It seemed only a matter of time before he was caught in the deception. She knew he was putting a great deal on the line to maintain her secret, and she suspected that it was for more than just privacy. She didn’t know what a clandestine government organization would do with a mindreader, and she didn’t want to find out.

  “Ever heard of The Order of Origin?” Cyrus asked.

  Boone shot him a quizzical look. “The crazy cult out east?”

  “William was a member. For whatever reason, it put him at odds with his grandmother. I never got the full rundown, but she pretty much went bat shit crazy over the whole thing. From what I could tell, William joined with the cult about the time Gertrude really went off her rocker. She had him institutionalized at some place called ‘Tuttle Heritage’. I haven’t had a chance to look into the place, but based on the way he described it, it’s no Betty Ford. She basically just put him on ice and wrote him off.”

  Pulling the Jeep to a stop at a red light, Boone sat quietly and drummed his index finger on the top of the steering wheel. When the light went green, he didn’t react. The car behind them sounded its horn and snapped Boone from his trance. “And you think the old lady’s gone round the bend?” Boone asked after they’d driven another block.

  “You will, too, when you meet her.” There was no humor in Cyrus’s voice. “She thinks her grandkids have superpowers, for God’s sake.” He turned and looked squarely at Boone before continuing, “Worse yet, she thinks she gave them those superpowers. She was so terrified of William that she had him murdered. She’s certifiable.”

  There was a long silence again. Ashley sat silently in the backseat feeling fairly certain that both men had forgotten she was there. It was just as well. If someone asked her a question, she wasn’t sure she could answer without revealing how terrified she’d become. She was waiting breathlessly for a sign, any sign, that Boone was buying Cyrus’s tale.

  With a sigh, Boone shook his head. “That’s just great. So, even if we get our hands on Waterford’s research it’s probably useless anyway. Wonderful.”

  More than Boone’s words, Ashley sensed the conviction of his thoughts. His mind was already working on a way to salvage the operation and moving to other concerns, like how he was going to explain the details of the failed mission to someone named Monica.

  Ashley had the sense that something life-altering had just transpired, though she wasn’t sure exactly what or how. A dreadful concern had grown deep inside her gut over the course of the car ride, and she realized it was entirely related to the shadowy organization Boone referred to as the Coalition. Whatever it was, Cyrus didn’t want them anywhere near her or Gertrude’s work…and his worry spoke volumes.

  * * *

  The Rockefeller Federal Building

  Hennings, South Carolina

  9:19 a.m.

  The elevator ride to the fourth floor of the Federal Building took no time at all. Ashley’s silence hadn’t escaped Cyrus’s attention, but he was reluctant to say much to her in front of Boone. The less he knew about their relationship the better. It would only cause him to ask additional questions and look more closely at the details of the mission in the final report. Still, as they stepped off the elevator, Cyrus saw that Ashley’s normally pale complexion had grown even grimmer; it was the thought of facing her grandmother—facing Gertrude once more. He reminded himself again that they actually shared no blood relation.

  The three of them walked up to the main desk, and Boone explained to the clerk that they were there to see Gertrude Waterford. He’d phoned ahead and was informed that she’d already been placed in holding room number two and was ready when they were.

  Boone signed his name to the necessary paperwork followed by Cyrus and then by Ashley. Cyrus knew that Boone wasn’t happy about bringing Ashley along for this part of the process, but Cyrus pushed the issue, explaining that Gertrude was a stubborn woman and it would be beneficial for her to see that Ashley was actively assisting in the investigation.

  Buzzed through a secure doorway behind the reception counter, they met up with a man in a suit who led them down a hall and around a corner to another short section of hallway lined on each side with three doors. The doors were labeled I-1 through I-6, respectively. ‘I’, standing for interview, the politically correct, twenty-first century euphemism for interrogation. Cyrus shook his head. They might change what they called the rooms but the tough questions asked on the other side of the doors would always remain the same.

  Cyrus watched as Boone tapped the six digit combination into the crude mechanical lock on the door’s knob, and then followed his mentor through. A few paces past the threshold, Boone froze in his tracks. This caught Cyrus off-guard; stepping to the right, he peered around Boone’s shoulder. There, sitting at the interrogation table with her wrists cuffed to the steel restraining bar, was Gertrude Waterford in a baggy pale blue jumpsuit. She sat upright in a hard steel chair, her chin sagged low against her chest, a
nd frothing white foam fizzed on her lips.

  Boone cursed and circled the table to check the woman for a pulse. Cyrus ducked out into the hallway to call for assistance, as Ashley stood at the corner of the doorway and watched the scene with no emotion whatsoever.

  Building security locked down the entire facility in record time…but it didn’t matter. Whoever had delivered the fatal dose of poison had made their escape before the alarm was raised. But the fact that someone walked into an FBI field office and accessed a locked room in order to kill a suspect in custody was a significant matter. Cyrus knew there would be an investigation. Still, for his part, Gertrude’s death simplified things. He no longer had to worry about how her debrief would differ from his. And, with her gone, burying her research would become a much easier matter.

  Even with all the positives, however, Cyrus was left wondering who could walk into the heart of a secure government building and deliver a fatal dose of poison without being caught? There was no chance that the old woman smuggled the poison in herself. If she had the opportunity, she would’ve killed herself down in the cell block. Plus, there was no question—the old woman was just too proud and far too vain to do this to herself. She was the type who would make sure to show how intelligent she was to one and all—even if her audience was in a courtroom, deciding whether or not she could live.

  Even more concerning to Cyrus was, who had something to fear with Gertrude Waterford in federal custody? Whoever it was hadn’t ever appeared on their radar. As far as anyone knew, Gertrude Waterford was the end of the investigation.

  Apparently, that wasn’t the case, after all.

  * * *

  The Templeton Tower Building

  Hennings, South Carolina

  8:45 a.m.

  When Ashley opened the door of her apartment, the smile that greeted Cyrus went a long way toward staving off the stress of the morning. Prior to parting the previous night, they had decided to meet first thing to cover some remaining details. It was a thinly veiled excuse to see each other again and the best they could do under the circumstances. Both felt a powerful connection, while at the same time realizing that Cyrus’s time in Hennings was coming to an end. In fact, Ashley had asked him to stay the night but it had been impossible. Cyrus knew that he was already drawing scrutiny from his superiors, and he couldn’t risk them looking into his work anymore than they already had.

  So their morning meet had to be enough. Plus, Cyrus’s day had started with some unexpected news that he felt compelled to share. Just when he thought he could put this entire case behind him, another complication was quick to rise from nowhere. The confusion would not end with the death of Gertrude Waterford. Well…assassination would be a better description, Cyrus decided. Someone had managed to walk into a secure government building and poison the woman while in a locked holding room. Worse, review of the security footage had yet to explain how the killer had reached Gertrude, or how he had made his escape.

  He took a deep breath, putting those questions on hold as he relaxed in the warmth of Ashley’s smile. Placing her hand on Cyrus’s forearm, she guided him into the familiar surroundings. “Nice to see you again,” she said with a playful smile. “I can’t help thinking that it would’ve been more…efficient, if you’d just stayed the night.”

  With a groan and a roll of his eyes, Cyrus let her lead him into the sitting area where they dropped closely together on the sofa. “Efficient, huh? I would’ve had a hard time explaining that to Boone. He showed up at my door first thing this morning.”

  He saw suspicion in her eyes. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “More bad news. Someone broke into the Mayflower Facility last night. Gertrude’s fileserver was erased, and then destroyed for good measure.”

  “I thought the lab was being guarded!”

  “It was,” he continued. “Around the clock by a detail of five agents. Still, someone made it in and out without being spotted. All of the data’s gone. There’s nothing left.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “Exactly. And how did someone kill Waterford? You can bet the two events are related.”

  Ashley went silent, apparently giving the matter a great deal of thought. The entire series of events was troubling—the sort of thing that Cyrus would normally lose sleep over. But not this time. He’d reached a point where he wanted nothing more than to put the entire case behind him. Though he wasn’t sure why. For some reason, the reality of Gertrude’s experiments had unsettled him in a deeply personal way. That was saying something, when he worked with thieves, smugglers, killers and bureaucrats on a daily basis.

  Pulling a small evidence bag from his pocket, Cyrus held the contents up to the light. It took a moment for this to catch Ashley’s attention, and he realized just how distracted she was with all that had happened. At least he wasn’t alone in his discomfort. Though, if he found the entire case unpleasant, how would she be feeling? This case involved the entirety of her life. She’d lost her brother and the woman she believed to be her grandmother. Furthermore, she was the product of some insane scientific experiment. The fact that she was even functional at this point spoke to her resiliency.

  Ashley took the bag from his hand for a closer look. Inside was what looked like a business card. But rather than the name of a company and someone’s contact information, the card had only the word ‘Origin’ written in large block letters. Inside the letter ‘O’ was some kind of stylized series of interconnected lines that looked like some twister version of an atomic symbol. He could tell by her stare that she didn’t understand.

  “This was found with Gertrude’s body,” Cyrus explained. “It’s literally the calling card of The Order of Origin, the church group your brother was a part of.”

  Ashley glared at him. “You can call it what it is, a cult. Don’t sugarcoat it.” She flipped the card over and seemed disappointed to find it blank. “You think this was some kind of retribution for the death of my brother?”

  “You tell me,” Cyrus said with a shrug. “You two had a connection. You said you somehow knew when he was being held at that mental institution. I thought you might know more about this cult, or at least William’s involvement with the group.”

  After an extended moment of silence, Ashley seemed to find the words for what she needed to say, even if she was reluctant to speak them. “My connection to Will is—was—a hard thing to describe. I don’t think most people have the capacity to even attempt to understand it, so I’ve never really tried to put it into words.”

  She looked him in the eyes and studied him before continuing, “I guess that doesn’t matter now. You’re not at all like most people. If anyone can get it, it’ll be you.

  “It’s like when you wake up in the morning, and you know that it’s raining outside before you even open your eyes. You can’t hear the rain and you can’t see it, but you know that it’s there. There’s no real question about it, it’s just sort of a sense you have, even if there’s no way to explain it. Or, when you slip on the ice—the way your arms cartwheel to gain balance and your entire body reacts in an effort to right itself, even though your mind can’t accurately process what’s just happened. Some things, movements, reactions, are just natural, hardwired responses. You don’t have to do anything to learn it, it just comes naturally. It’s a part of you.

  “It was like that with Will. For as long as I can remember we just had this innate connection. We were in our teens before we even realized that we had something other people didn’t. It was just that natural. It was most obvious with strong emotional responses. For example, when I was scared—I mean really, really scared, Will would know it. It was funny because, when that would happen, he would call to check on me. I guess it was the sort of thing that can make two people extremely close.”

  Cyrus nodded. He was getting a feel for the nature of their connection. It was exactly the kind of situation that would make siblings close, become vital parts of each other’s lives. “Did the connection only apply to fea
r?”

  “No,” she smiled and shook her head. “It covered pretty much the whole range of emotions. Anything that was extreme. Happy, sad, excited, nervous—we were linked.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head again. “For better or worse.”

  He was afraid he might be intruding on something private, but after seeing the curious expression on her face, Cyrus was compelled to ask.

  Ashley blushed, but met his eye. “I sort of freaked when I got my first period,” she said quietly.

  “And?”

  “And good old Will got pulled along for the proverbial ride.” Ashley’s sad smile quickly spread before finally blooming into one that reflected nothing but joy. Tears welled up as she looked off into the distance recalling some far off memory. “He tried to play it down, but I think that experience scared him more than it did me in the end,” she laughed.

  “Oh! But he got me back years later,” she continued. Her cheeks turned a deeper pink, almost red at the thought. “When he lost his virginity.”

  Cyrus burst out laughing. Ashley chuckled, wiped away the tears and joined in, her laughter growing more infectious.

  It was fascinating, Cyrus realized. He had always heard stories about twins having an innate link between them, but nothing like this. Ashley went on to explain how things worked in greater detail. While they could sense the emotions of the other, that was the extent of it. And the link faded with distance. William had taken a trip with his class at one point; it had been the first time they had been separated by a great distance. At one point Ashley had felt her connection to her brother falter and she’d become terrified. Ten minutes later the phone had rung. The call was from William, concerned for her safety as he, too, had felt their connection break.

  “Twelve hundred miles,” Ashley said with a smile. “That’s what we worked it out to be. For whatever reason, we’re connected as long as we’re within twelve hundred miles of each other.”