Chasing Power (Hidden Talents)

by Pearson, Genevieve

  “They kept me there for a few hours. As I left, I asked what they were going to do with Hal. A guy, another agent, he told me that it was for his superiors to decide. But it seemed kind of fishy. So after I left, I drove around the block and staked the hotel out. I was there for an hour—”

  “Harry?” Lane didn’t like interrupting his friend, but he was trying to back the Land Cruiser out of Tess’ driveway, and it was tricky driving and listening at the same time.

  “I’m getting there! I saw Hal leave the hotel.”

  “What do you mean, he escaped?”

  “An agent walked him to the door. An agent watched him drive off. They let him go.”

  Lane’s blood ran cold. Harry rushed on, “I’ve been going over it again and again in my head. And then I realized that the motorcycle lady, you said she was clueless about Hal, and Hal’s a freelancer, he doesn’t always work for the Corp—”

  “—He works for anyone with a paycheck,” Lane finished, feeling numb.

  “Yeah, so you’ve got to get her out, Lane,” Harry finished breathlessly, “You have to get her out because I think N.T.U. wants her dead.”

  “Get here as soon as you can.”

  “I’m already on the road. I’ll be there in an hour.”

  Clicking the phone off, Lane put his foot to the pedal, blasting through a yellow light just as it turned red. All he knew was that he had to get to Sam, and fast. Pieces were beginning to fall into place, and the picture wasn’t looking so good.

  Chapter 32

  All right, Samantha Gibson. It is time for you to think. To think like you have never thought before.

  And she would not think about Lane. No. No way, no how, that line of thought was forbidden. She had trusted Lane, it had been a miscalculation, now it was time to learn from her mistakes and move on. Puppy crush over. She had to count on herself now.

  Ignoring the odd gaping feeling in her heart and the pukey feeling in her gut, Sam turned her attention to the situation at hand. The first order of business was escape. She stood in the middle of her free room—now her prison. Going for the obvious solution first, Sam discovered that the phone on the nightstand was purely decorative. That ruled out calling the police. As though they might actually help her, but still.

  Peeping her head out the door, Sam saw that she wasn’t as alone as she thought. Two very beefy men stood chatting in the hallway, dressed in jeans and T-shirts. The first time she looked out the door, they tried to act like they just happened to be walking by. By the third time, both parties had to admit the ruse was tired. They were security, dressed down and making sure she didn’t go anywhere.

  Sam knew this because, the third time, she had actually tried to leave the room, walking casually away from the two men. It hadn’t taken them long to catch up with her and gently guide her back to her room, explaining that they were there to keep her safe from “Undercover Corp Operatives.”

  Total bullshit. Sam reached out, testing, to try and pull their power away from them. They had none. They were talent-less, normal men—except for the concealed weapons, of course.

  It pretty much confirmed Sam’s suspicion that N.T.U. found her more of a threat than the Corp. Why else post a guard who could stop her but get his ass kicked by any other Talent? Not that she could blame them. So what if she was an innocent civilian? This innocent civilian had the potential of monopolizing the power of all the Talents within an estimated fifty-yard radius. Sam knew she couldn’t use that power, but for all they knew, she could be as adept as her father. Plus, she’d well established that she didn’t exactly have unicorn and rainbow moral standards when it came to self-preservation. Sam might have felt a tinge of regret, but hell, Machiavelli’s The Prince had gotten her to adulthood; she wasn’t about to throw it away now.

  Who knows, if I were the chairman, Sam thought, I might be setting me up, too.

  Because Sam had no doubt she was being set-up. She may have been stupid about walking into this trap, but she wasn’t a moron. The only way the chairman’s ridiculous plan made any sense was if the target wasn’t just the Corp, but her as well. Something about Samantha scared the shit out of the N.T.U. Maybe it was her dad, maybe it was her potential, maybe it had been her psyche profile. Whatever the reason, this was a plum opportunity to get rid of her.

  Sam could guess how it was going to go down. The Corp would arrive, there’d be a fight, and poor Samantha Gibson would be tragically shot down in the crossfire. Who knew what the story was going to be—either the Corp had tried to kidnap her and botched it, or she was defecting or playing a double agent or something else. Either way, N.T.U. would get her out of the picture and would get to blame the Corp for it.

  It really was a pretty good plan on their part. She’d had no choice but to agree. Better the devil you see coming than the devil you don’t, she supposed. But escape, escape before it all went down—her best and only option.

  Sam considered taking the gun from one of the guards outside her front door. She could take the gun, scare them, and take a hostage maybe to get herself the rest of the way out of the building. She discarded the idea almost immediately. Number one, guns weren’t all that good of an idea around Talents, as she’d experienced firsthand. Two, it would just reaffirm everyone’s opinion of her as the crazy nutjob and make it harder to win people over to her side later on. Three, Sam didn’t much like suicide missions.

  The goddamned Talents had once again managed to get her well and truly trapped.

  #

  “Lane!” Standing in the ground floor lobby, Tess rubbed her hands on her pants before rushing up to grab Lane. The sweat on her palms still felt sticky on his arm as she pulled him to the side, hissing into his ear, “We need to talk!”

  “Me first,” Lane said, “Sam’s in trouble.”

  “That’s what I was gonna tell you.”

  “What? You knew about this?”

  “Know about what? Look, there are all these rumors flying around the office. They all make Sam seem, well— unbalanced is putting it nicely. I want you to talk to her, tell her to make nice with N.T.U. so—”

  “No. I can’t. Don’t you see? N.T.U.—the higher-ups at least—they are the ones spreading the rumors. They’re trying to discredit her.”

  Tess paused. Digested the information. She shook her head, “You can’t be serious, Lane. Why would the council want to discredit Sam?”

  “Because they need an excuse to kill her?”

  “What? No.” Continuing to shake her head, Tess’ voice became low, calm. “That’s crazy. Impossible. N.T.U. would never do anything like that. It’s got to be something else. Maybe the Corp has a mole or something or—anything. Think about it, we’re the good guys.”

  Lane wanted to believe Tess. A few weeks ago, he might have. But that was before he met Samantha. Samantha, who questioned everything, who never looked at anything without analyzing it from every angle, who even now was instilling him with doubt—in himself, in the organization he believed in.

  “God, she’s messed you up. Lane, could you honestly believe that N.T.U. would go through all of this trouble just to kill one girl? Her power isn’t even that great.”

  “Tess,” Lane felt his resolve harden, “We have to find her.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Yes we do.”

  “No, we don’t. She’s right here.”

  Tess pointed across the lobby. Bing! The elevator door slid open and Sam stepped out. Her chin was set at an impossibly high angle, her eyes narrowed. Three men stepped out from the elevator with her. One was Erik. The other two were huge and wore matching polo shirts with the N.T.U. logo and jeans.

  Lane recognized those shirts. They were worn by enforcers, specializing in keeping Talents in line. Their talents were brute force TK. Walking on either side of Sam, they led her across the lobby, dressed-up prison guards. Did she know? She had to. But still, god, he had to do something, to warn her somehow.

  Ignoring Tess’ protests, Lane p
ushed across the crowded lobby, waving and calling, “Sam! Samantha!”

  Samantha turned to look at him. The gaze she leveled on him was blank, cold, settling like ice in Lane’s bones. The two enforcers stood between them, immovable and resolute.

  “What do you want?” Samantha said.

  “Don’t go,” Lane panted, “Don’t go with them.”

  “Thanks,” Sam said lightly, adopting a friendly tone, “But don’t worry. You don’t have to pretend to help anymore.”

  Spinning on her heel, Sam strode away, heading towards a black sedan parked out front.

  “Sam,” Lane called out.

  He reached out to her, trying to see how she felt, only to encounter a block. She turned away from him, shutting him out, ignoring him.

  No. No!

  Fueled by desperation, he reached out, pushed past that block to get into her head. There he found a roiling tempest of emotions: Fury, first and foremost, and deeper, hidden but pulsing strong—sorrow, a deep gut-wrenching sadness. All overlayed with a sense of determination and ... betrayal.

  The notebook. He knew where it had gone, now, where the rumors came from. And Samantha. Samantha had seen it, had known that it was her undoing. Oh god, it was his fault. Lane tried again to reach out to her, to try and form some mental connection, but the car was pulling away from the curb, out of his range, and Sam ignored him, staring straight ahead as the car pulled away from the curb. It was Erik who looked back at Lane as the car entered traffic, a small smile on his face.

  Again. How many times would he betray Samantha by following his own prerogative and ignoring hers? He’d ignored her desire to leave and delivered her into the lair of the dragon. He’d sealed her death warrant by ignoring her one greatest wish: to respect her privacy.

  Lane leaned his head against the marble column. The room spun. He had always lived his life with a sense of purpose but now it seemed like everything he did was wrong, had turned out wrong. Was this his fate? To hurt the one person he wanted most to help? Closing his eyes, Lane wished for guidance.

  But it was Sam’s voice he heard.

  There’s only one person who gets to take credit for my decisions, and that’s me.

  #

  Cars didn’t usually have windows that kept you from seeing out, did they? Sam tried to track where they were going, but could barely see a thing through the dark glass. Being in an unfamiliar city didn’t make it any better. Or those stupid emotions she couldn’t quite tune out. Crying at this point, Sam knew, would be ludicrous. So what if she felt like someone had torn her heart out of her chest with a rusty spoon—she was about ten minutes away from the fight of her life. She couldn’t think about how much better she would feel with Lane or Al or even Harry by her side. She was better off alone.

  Determined, Sam turned her thoughts to the situation at hand. It might not even be the windows that made it so hard to see. In addition to the driver up front, two unfamiliar Talents, both men, sat on either side of her. She knew at least one carried a weapon—she could see the outline of it underneath his jacket. Erik sat in the front passenger seat. One of them could be using his powers on her, she supposed. Her head did have that buzz that generally meant it was being screwed with.

  STOP! She pulled on some of her neighbor’s power. He shifted in his seat, uncomfortable, but nothing changed. Sam tried again, this time on Erik.

  She was rewarded when the world outside of the car subtly slid into focus. Erik looked back at her and glowered, and Sam shrugged. Now she had a better idea of where they were, driving alongside the sea. The Puget Sound looked steel gray, hard and cold.

  The area they were in felt just as empty. Older brick buildings, a few warehouses. Absolutely nothing with any discernible landmarks.

  Not that it mattered, seeing as she didn’t have a specific destination in mind for when she started running. Which, she looked at the car clock, would be in about five minutes, give or take. The handoff had been scheduled for 6:45. These Talents were damn fast organizers. Or they’d been planning this for a while.

  “We’re here,” Erik announced. Sam leaned across the lap of her neighbor to get a better look, but all she could see was a steep, bramble-covered hill and concrete pillars.

  “Do you remember the plan?” Erik asked. Sam nodded. Their plan: Samantha would appear angry and resentful as she was passed off to the Corp (not hard), but otherwise subdued. Then, as she was being piled into their van or whatever, the Talent-equivalent of a special forces SWAT team would swoop in and save the day. Her orders were to, and these were the exact words they said, “duck and cover” and “wait for someone to come and get you.” Sam suspected that meant, “Don’t move, so our sniper guy can draw a bead on you more easily.”

  Sam’s plan, she liked to think, made more sense: When the shit hit the fan, she’d yank power to neuter the strongest Talents, run like hell, and hide. Not the most sophisticated idea, but she didn’t have much to work with here.

  The driver opened the door, and the Talent to the left of her slid out of the seat and offered her a hand. Sam accepted it. The physical connection only made it easier to draw his power from him, and other than a shudder he hardly noticed. She was getting better at it, and had realized that if you took 90% of their power, they didn’t seem to realize. It wasn’t until it was all gone they started noticing. Same with the other guard. Erik was a different story. From what she could tell, he almost matched Lane in terms of raw energy but, unfortunately, now that he knew what she was doing, was careful. Taking his power was possible, but it was like trying to catch eels in a pool of jelly with your bare hands: no picnic. It confirmed Sam’s suspicion that it was easier taking power from kinetics than elementals or pathics.

  Remembering she was supposed to be acting angry and not thoughtful, Sam scowled at Erik as the two guards each took her firmly by the arm. They led her across the broken pavement of the parking lot.

  “I’ll get you for this!” she snarled. That, at least, wasn’t pretending. Even it was a mite clichéd. Erik winked and Sam acted on the very real desire to try and punch him in the face. The cuffs the guards snapped on her wrists—at least her arms were in front of her—kept her from following through.

  “You couldn’t have contained her?” a low and cultured voice asked. A woman stepped out from behind a huge concrete pillar. It was towards this woman that Sam was dragged. Thirty feet above, a concrete overpass sheltered them from the light drizzle that had begun to fall. The sound of cars whizzing by made Sam think they were underneath a major thoroughfare. To her left, a steep embankment rose, covered with blackberry bushes and brambles. To her right was a wide road and the Puget Sound. A chain link fence, topped with barbed wire, enclosed the whole thing. Sam looked for the gate that had admitted their car and found it already closed and locked. Aside for one or two parked cars—one was a large black SUV with dark tinted windows, no question what that was for—the lot was empty.

  “She’s been cooperative so far. Why risk it?”

  But the woman was right to worry. Erik might have been chosen for his ability to resist her power-grabs, but the Corp hadn’t thought their assignment through as carefully. While she was dressed simply in jeans, a white blouse, khaki jacket and brown boots, this woman was fairly dripping with extra energy.

  Sam waited until she was closer, then gently reached out, thinking she would just take a teensy bit for now...

  ZZZT! A bolt of pain tore through Sam’s body. Fifty thousand plus volts, to be precise.

  The current stopped and Sam went sprawling onto the pavement. The woman pocketed the taser she’d pulled out of her jeans pocket.

  “Damn it all to hell!” was what Sam wanted to say. It came out more like “Blllluuurg.” She’d never even seen the taser coming—had no idea it would have that effect on her.

  “All right, up you go.” A heavyset man appeared to lift her off the ground. Another man—this one tall and somewhat younger than the first—and a woman appeared. The woman hurr
ied forward and snapped something around her neck. A basic nylon collar with a slender plastic box that pressed against the base of her skull

  The woman in jeans smiled at Erik, “Nice doing business with you.”

  Erik gave a half-wave as he climbed into the car, “You too, Renée. Good luck.”

  Samantha braced herself, here it comes. The N.T.U. agents followed Erik. The driver started the car.

  Nothing happened.

  It suddenly occurred to Samantha that she might have thought about this too deeply. It was possible, she realized, that N.T.U. hadn’t planned any sort of double-cross whatsoever—at least not on the Corp. That they were going to just hand her over and their story was only a means of making her go quietly.

  Bastards.

  All right, Sam thought, now is as good a time as any to escape. Keeping an eye on Renée, she reached for energy and—agggghhh! Her body went rigid as volts went through her again, this time from the collar. It wasn’t as strong as the taser, but it still stung, like a strong pinch on the back of her neck.

  Renée waved a small electronic device that looked like a remote.

  “You’re wearing a neat little thing we’ve developed,” Renée said, “A shock collar, like for dogs. Small zap at irregular intervals. Can’t use your abilities when the electrical signals in your brain are being interrupted. Though you’re welcome to try.”

  Another zap from the collar caused Sam to stiffen. It didn’t hurt, per se, but it sure got old fast. The man not holding her firm opened the back door of the SUV, the other one pushed her towards the car.

  If she was going to act, it had to be now. But what was that whining noise?

  KABOOM!

  The force of the explosion sent everyone sprawling. Sam herself got a face full of gravelly asphalt. The buzzing died down and Sam could hear Renée yelling.

  “Jared, get her in the SUV. Harris, Casey, cover!”

  The projectile, maybe a pipe bomb—she couldn’t be sure—had been intended for the truck and them. Instead, it had deflected off something—probably a Corp Talent had some sort of shielding ability—and hit one of the columns. Sam could see the sharp cracks radiating through the concrete. Jared stood and reached down to haul Sam to her feet, as Harris—the tall man—and the woman returned fire at an unseen enemy.