Chasing Power (Hidden Talents)

by Pearson, Genevieve

  “Lane!” Sam sat up, grinning stupidly on her face.

  “No, dear, sorry to scare you.” Joseph stood at the foot of her bed, “but you didn’t answer the door.”

  “Oh.” Sam rubbed her eyes and glanced at the bedside clock. Five P.M. Whoa. That had been a hell of a nap. “What do you want?”

  “The deputy chairman would like to see you. Then you have to meet the council and chairman.”

  Sam’s eyebrows went up. From what she had gleaned in her day or so here, the council and chairman ran this whole thing. Near as Samantha could tell, areas of Talents voted on an elected representative for the council. The representatives then elected a chairman to act as their spokesperson. Or something along those lines. The chairman was like the prime minister of Talents. He answered only to the top levels of the North American Governments.

  “Now?”

  “You probably have time to make yourself presentable, but sooner is better.”

  Nodding, Sam got up. Joseph left and she hurried to the bathroom. Someone had brought her bag of things from the shopping bag the night before. She went through it, looking for the cleanest, least-wrinkled, nicest thing she currently owned. It happened to be the magenta camisole and matching light pink hoodie. She debated what was worse to wear to a high level government meeting: dirty and grimy jeans, or relatively clean sweatpants that said “Sex Kitten.” She decided on the jeans.

  “Oh!” Joseph said as she came into the living area, “That color’s good on you!”

  #

  “Ah, Samantha, come in!”

  Erik had a lined journal open on his desk. As she entered, he hurriedly shut the black notebook and thrust it into a drawer. He grabbed a stack of papers and straightened them out, compulsively tidying up his desk. That finished, he smiled warmly up at Sam and gestured for her to take a seat.

  “I brought you here today so that we could have a chance to talk before the council meeting. I realize that since you don’t have any experience with N.T.U. you might want to know what to expect today, and I also wanted to clear some things up before the meeting.”

  Samantha nodded.

  “Since you’ve had a chance to read the paperwork, is it safe to assume you are ready and willing to become a member of N.T.U.?”

  “To be honest,” Samantha said, “I have some questions.”

  “Oh, of course, of course, feel free!”

  “In this section, it says that there should be no unauthorized use of powers—what does that mean, exactly?”

  “Any use of your powers has to fall within strict parameters of the N.T.U. constitutional guidelines.”

  “And what are those, exactly?”

  “You’ll find them in the additional literature I gave you.”

  The literature she hadn’t paid close attention to. Sam shuffled through the enormous stack of papers, wishing she had better prepared. She felt like she was standing up for an oral exam she hadn’t studied for. The membership agreement sat directly in front of her, the blank signature line looming.

  “What it boils down to is that you don’t use your powers to harm others, or in dishonest ways.”

  That’s safely vague, Sam thought.

  “Between you and me, Samantha,” Erik leaned forward, glancing from side to side, “I would sign the paperwork. It would help you build credibility. Ease some doubts.”

  “Doubts? What doubts?”

  “Reports show you’ve used your powers less than judiciously on several occasions.”

  “I’ve been going through transition. I can’t always control my powers.” The feeling of dread intensified.

  “That’s not what we meant. Attempted murder, violent attacks, making people your sex slaves—that is not how N.T.U. Talents use their powers.”

  Sam blinked. Where had this come from, reports? What reports? And then she remembered the notebook Erik had shoved into his desk. She knew where she’d seen a notebook like that before.

  “Samantha?” Erik went on, “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  I sure do, Samantha thought, you’re about to be blackmail me into doing something I probably won’t want to do.

  A polite tap on the door announced Joseph’s arrival.

  “Sir,” Joseph said, “The council is here. The chairman would like to speak to you privately for a moment.”

  Erik excused himself and left.

  The moment the door shut Sam leaned across the desk, yanked his drawer open and grabbed the notebook. Pulling it out, her breath caught. It was Lane’s journal, the one she had seen him taking notes in the whole trip.

  Sam read the first page and rifled through the others, quickly glancing at different passages. She knew she didn’t have much time before Erik got back, but thanks to the clear, all-caps engineering print, Sam had had no problem reading more than enough.

  Her chest tightened, and Sam quickly dug out her inhaler, taking a puff. The medicine didn’t help.

  Every mention she had made about her abilities, every lesson, each step of progress she had made, painstakingly written in black and white.

  And not just that. More. Hypothesis, speculation, connecting her past with her powers. A detailed rundown of every trauma and pain she’d endured that he was aware of. Bullet point lists of “possible mental blocks preventing full maturation.”

  It was Sam’s worst nightmare come to life. In this journal was evidence ready and waiting to be misconstrued against her. Here, in neat, legible type was her death warrant—signed, sealed, and delivered by the one man she had actually started to trust. Someone might as well have walked up and kicked her in the chest with a steel-toed boot.

  Stuffing the journal back in the drawer, Sam reflected on how totally and completely screwed she was.

  “Samantha,” Erik came back, “They’re waiting. Ready?”

  No, no way, Sam thought, as she stood up: I most certainly am not.

  Chapter 31

  The top-floor office where Sam was to receive her death sentence was surprisingly informal. Maybe because the Missionary-style furniture clashed with the stark modernism of the huge windows that overlooked the sharp cityscape and gloomy, gray skies. Sam noticed the windows first, made a mental note not to focus on them at all costs, and turned her attention to the occupants of the big room. This meeting, it turned out, was not with just the chairman, but around eight or nine men and women, most in their fifties, leaning back in overstuffed cushions on the couches scattered throughout the room.

  It was all very casual, but when Samantha was led to her seat—the only armchair, and it didn’t match the others—she couldn’t help but notice that it had been strategically placed so that they could all look at her directly. It gave her the curious sensation of being on stage, and so she kept her back ramrod straight and her legs crossed at the ankles. Paltry as it was, good posture always gave her a boost in confidence. She’d need that confidence, if her earlier meeting with Erik was any indication.

  Directly across from her sat a white-haired man. He looked like any typical Southern good old boy, his pinstripe jacket stretched tautly over his bulging stomach. He might as well have been wearing a seersucker suit. He welcomed Sam with polite dignity, thanked her for her time, and introduced himself as the chairman.

  “Now, normally,” he began, “The council doesn’t deal with the day-to-day matters such as admission. But in your case, we decided it best to make an exception.”

  How am I supposed to reply to that? Samantha wondered, thank you?

  “I trust Erik has apprised you of the situation?”

  The chairman blinked at her, the very picture of concern. As though he had no idea that his devoted subordinate had just done the shoveling of his dirty work and underhanded threats. Sam shifted in her seat, lifting her chin. If that was how the game was going to be played, then that’s how she would play.

  “He did. And I got the impression that N.T.U. might have gained an unfortunately negative picture of my actions over this trip. No mat
ter how the information was acquired...” A slight change in inflection hinted about her doubts on said methods, “I should address them. I only ever did what was necessary to defend myself.

  “I don’t regret my actions and will do the same again if I must.” This last statement was said in a tone that made it clear that she knew whom she was really defending herself against.

  “Be that as it may,” the chairman went on, “rumors have already begun spreading about you, Samantha. It will take a long time to build confidence in you within our membership.”

  Now Sam began to feel like she was on more familiar ground. They had set up the situation; they were about to lay down terms. She saw now, that everything that had been said and done since she’d walked into this building—possibly before—had been laying the groundwork for this moment. So that they could say, ‘Yes, this car looks great but the reliability isn’t what it should be, so we want a longer warranty.’ The ultimate negotiation, with her life on the table and not a lot of assets on her side.

  “All right,” Samantha said, “How do I gain this confidence?”

  The chairman smiled, leaning forward, “We can see you’re a smart girl.”

  Woman, Sam substituted. She kept her mouth shut.

  “I’m going to lay it out for you. Unfortunately, the Corp wants you badly enough to go beyond covert maneuvers and into the realm of making open threats against our organization. We here at N.T.U. are in a very precarious position. We operate as a governing body. Yet the US, Canadian, and Mexican governments only acknowledge our authority as long as we are able to keep the Talents in line, in terms of behavior and actions. So far we’ve managed to coexist with the Corp, because neither of us steps on the other’s toes, so to speak. But they have their own lobbyists and supporters, even within the N.T.U. and the US Senate. If the Corp follows through with their threats to attack us, their lobbyists can make it seem like N.T.U. has lost control and upset the balance of power.”

  In other words, they could stage an evil takeover. Sam had thoughts about a governing body too weak to lay the smackdown on a Corporation, but she decided to phrase it more diplomatically: “If the Corp can upset things so easily, what’s kept them from doing it in the past?”

  “Profit, ultimately. We do have Talents with strong abilities ourselves, of course. If they wanted to act out, we could make it pretty difficult for them. And acting as a governing body isn’t cheap. There’s paperwork, bureaucracy—more than they have now, at least—disagreements, elections. Until now, it’s been worth the company’s while just to go along and get along and let us do the day-to-day details.”

  “So why now, why me?”

  “Your father, to put it bluntly.” The chairman shuffled some documents sharply, pulled one forward. “He worked for the Corporation, once upon a time. But he went off the deep end after your mother left him. It took them a while to find out what he was doing, killing other Talents, carving a subtle path of destruction. When it was discovered—well, let’s just say, the Corporation almost went bankrupt paying out hush money. And N.T.U., we had our hands full cleaning up after him, as well.”

  “Where was I during all of this?”

  The chairman shrugged, looked at the papers, “Living with him, I think. Actually, his attack on you was a stroke of luck for us. It gave us a means of imprisoning him. Your father was always very careful about when and where he used his powers.”

  “Not now, he isn’t.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “He had no problem using his abilities at the mental institution, where any orderly could see him.”

  “Then something made him break his own rule.” The chairman cleared his throat, “Now, on to you, and where you fall in this. Quite frankly, we were all hoping you wouldn’t have any talent. It is genetic, but recessive. When you graduated high school without showing sign of transition, we decided it wasn’t going to happen, and we let you drop off our radar.

  That was a mistake. Obviously, the Corp wasn’t so lax.”

  “OK, great, my dad is scary. But my talent doesn’t compete. Why won’t the Corp leave me alone?”

  He shrugged, as though the possibilities were endless, obvious. But they weren’t, not to Sam. Maintaining eye contact, Sam leaned forward in her chair. She wouldn’t let him out of this. No. The chairman cleared his throat, a nervous habit, and broke eye contact, “Revenge. Fear. They may think you know what happened and have a vendetta against them. You were living in New York, after all. N.T.U. and the Corp walk a fine line. We both must balance the needs of secrecy, federal cooperation, and the personalities of the Talents. For now, that has kept us in a tentative peace.”

  Until she came along and upset the delicate power balance. Her abilities gave one side the power to match and exceed anything the other could throw at it.

  “What is my part in restoring the balance?”

  “They want us to hand you over, of course. We could say no, but this is a great opportunity.”

  “An opportunity for what?”

  “For us? To demonstrate our authority. For you? To show your loyalty.”

  Here it was. The catch slid into place like a steel bolt in a cage door. You want to be part of this club, prove it. And Samantha had a good idea what that was going to require.

  Erik stepped in again, this time to clarify what the chairman had implied. They were going to agree to hand her over to the Corp. When the group actually showed up to pick her up, they would ambush them. Fairly simple. When it was all over, N.T.U. would present it as a botched kidnapping attempt—proof of the Corp’s wrongdoing and something they were prepared to crack down on. The Corp, of course, would back down under the pressure of public (to the Talents, at least) scrutiny, and things could go back to the way they were.

  Her part, in all of this, was simple: She would be bait. A live person to draw the Corp’s major members out into the open.

  And what would she get in return? The key aspect in any deal was that both parties walked away with something—or at least with less damage.

  “Membership in the N.T.U., and protection as a member. Plus, validation of the accusations you’re currently making against the Corp.”

  Sam cleared her throat. Her heart pounded. Here was her chance to get what she really wanted.

  “I’ll take the protection, and the validation,” Samantha said, “But no membership. You keep me safe, and I’ll agree to stay clear of your little club. But I won’t be a part of an organization I can’t support.”

  The chairman didn’t frown, exactly, but his jowl lines deepened. Muffled conversation started in the ranks of the council members. Sam worked quickly to solidify her position.

  “You know you can’t keep me here forever,” Sam said. Actually, she wasn’t totally sure of that, but she knew she had to tip the scale in her favor somehow. “And if I take off, you’ll be left with no way to put the Corp back in their place. However, if you foster a positive relationship with me instead, you won’t have to worry about me joining them in pulling your paper government down like the house of cards it is.”

  Also something she had no plans on doing, but they didn’t know that. The muttering of the council members grew more heated, but the chairman knew where he stood. Nodding sharply, he held out his hand, “It’s a deal.”

  Sam smiled, taking the handshake with a firm grip. The two parties smiled at each other, each triumphant in the end to a deal that neither party intended to uphold.

  #

  Lane hadn’t planned on coming back to N.T.U. He wanted to sleep in—which in this case meant not waking up until 3 PM, at least. Then he wanted to make sure he could avoid the entire place until he heard that Samantha was guaranteed asylum. Then, and only then, would he feel comfortable going back, when he was sure he wouldn’t accidentally screw things up.

  Unfortunately, his plans—like always—were about to be ruined. The phone rang and the tag said, “Urgent.” Picking up, Lane wasn’t surprised to hear Tess on the other line. H
e was surprised to hear what she wanted of him.

  “You need to come in, right now. It’s important, I’ve gotta talk to you.”

  Lane tried to argue, but there was no battling Tess logic. Or rather, the guilt trip she gave him.

  “After all I did for you, you can’t even drag your sorry tush to N.T.U.? I had to get here early just so I could make up the work I missed yesterday.”

  “All right,” Lane muttered, futilely searching through his duffel for something clean. Or at least something that hadn’t been worn in long enough that it might have somehow regressed to clean. “I’m coming.”

  “Good.”

  Tess hung up. Still helpless at finding clothes, Lane picked up the duffel and tipped everything out. There, that black T-shirt looked clean enough. Sure to make Tess grimace, it had a picture of an alligator wearing boxing gloves on the front. But beggars couldn’t be choosers. Pulling the shirt on, Lane looked at the pile of clothes and frowned. Why did he get the feeling something was missing?

  He stared at the pile for a few seconds before it clicked into place. His notebook—where was it? He rifled through his clothes again, then went through the bag’s pockets for good measure. It was gone. And he had definitely packed it last night before heading north. Could someone have stolen it? But who would want his notebook?

  The phone buzzed. Harry. Looking at the call records, Lane saw he’d called three times in the last twenty minutes. Oops. Lane hit the answer button as he left Tess’ townhouse.

  “Hey Harry, I don’t have much time.”

  “I don’t care, this is important! Sam’s in danger!”

  “Not anymore, she’s at N.T.U.” Lane pulled open the back hatch of the SUV, throwing his duffel in. It landed on top of the little cat toy. Lane frowned and grabbed it. He’d never have pegged Sam for the type to go in for stuffed animals, but there you go. He held on to it as he climbed into the driver’s side, tossing it over onto the front passenger seat. He was sure she hadn’t meant to leave it behind.

  Harry let out a breath, “That’s what I’m calling about. Listen, N.T.U. agents came to meet me with Hal. They took us to a hotel.