Echo 8 (2 page)

Yet Goff was dead.

Abby slipped an arm around Tess, and she realized she'd begun to tremble. “I want you to take a couple of weeks off. Fly to Scotland for the service. You can decide about the appointment later.”

Tess glanced again at Agent McGinnis, who stood waiting and watching. She didn't want him here. She could feel the cracks in her composure forking and expanding, and she didn't want him reporting back to his superiors how the new task force member had gone to pieces when she heard the news.

“Why did they send you?” she asked.

He was a cool customer. No hint of emotion.

“I've been assigned to you,” he replied.

Tess gripped the edge of the table, lips arcing down. “What do you mean ‘assigned to me'?”

“Assigned to protect you.”

“Protect me from…?” But she knew where this was going.

“No one wants to see what happened to Goff happen to you. There's growing evidence the Echoes are drawn to members of the task force. I thought you were aware.”

Tess was aware. Goff wasn't the first to die. He'd hypothesized there was some kind of entanglement involved—in the quantum sense, where entangled particles were able to share information across distances without contact. “Spooky action at a distance,” Einstein had called it. It was like the Echoes knew where to go for help, at least on a subconscious level.

Though as of yet they hadn't managed to help a single one.

Despite all this, she didn't quite buy the agent's explanation. It felt like interference. Like they weren't sure whether they could trust her to do her job. Goff had openly disapproved of the FBI's policy regarding Echoes, and Tess suspected the disapproval ran both ways.

“You don't have to do this,” interrupted Abby. “Not for Goff, not for anyone. Tess…” Abby's voice deepened. “I'm asking you
not
to do this.”

Abby had complete authority over Tess in her role at the institute, but she could do nothing to stop this appointment, and both of them knew it. She was the only maternal figure in Tess's life, however, and Tess appreciated her protective impulses.

“Goff was the only one who understood,” Tess said simply. “Now it's just me.”

She
did
have to do this. She had believed in Goff, and his efforts had cost him his life. She couldn't let that be for nothing. And she still believed it was the right thing to do.

The director rose and turned from her, toward the window, resting her hands on her hips.

Tess slipped off the edge of the table and glanced at her new colleague. “Welcome to Seattle, Agent McGinnis. If you'll excuse me…”

Tess was barely out the door when the first sob heaved out of her. She hurried down the corridor and up the central stairway toward her apartment.

Footsteps sounded on the stairs behind her.

“Doctor, wait … I need to talk to you about—”

She rounded on him, startled to find him close behind her. “Later, Agent McGinnis,” she snapped, her voice raw with grief.

He sank backward a step, and the controlled lines of his face loosened. “I'm sorry. I didn't realize—”

She turned and ran up to her apartment, closing and locking the door behind her.

*   *   *

—the two of you were so close.

Ross felt like an ass. He turned and headed back down the stairs.

They'd gotten off on the wrong foot now. Though really that had happened at their first meeting in D.C. On orders from the Bureau's director, Ross had been seated next to her at the summit's opening dinner. She'd taken an immediate dislike to him.

I'm sure it had nothing to do with questioning the validity of her life's work.
Asking her how it was possible to train people in a skill that had never been scientifically validated had probably not been his smartest move ever. Her resentment had been palpable. And her accusation that he was criticizing a field he knew nothing about had been deserved. It was a mistake someone in his position should not make. But when she'd explained her line of work to him over the bouillabaisse, she'd unknowingly pricked a nerve.

He'd been ordered to stay close to her at the summit, and it soon became clear that the assignment had been compromised. It was difficult to subtly shadow someone who was actively avoiding you.

He'd confessed his sins to Bureau Director Garcia, with far less fallout than he would have expected. He had not been reassigned. Garcia did not seem to care that Dr. Caufield hated him.

But it was going to make his job a hell of a lot harder.

She'd accepted an apology from him on the last day of the summit, but it hadn't thawed her even minutely. Now he'd brought her news of the death of her colleague. He doubted he could recover with her, but he had his orders and he had to try.

Instead of going back down to the conference room, he stopped on the second floor, where they'd assigned him the studio apartment directly below Dr. Caufield's. He tossed his bag on the bed and started transferring his clothes to the dresser and closet. The room was spare, with battered secondhand furniture, but he'd slept in far worse places.

His thoughts returned to Caufield and all he'd learned about her for this assignment. He'd scrolled through dozens of images of her on the ride to the summit location on the outskirts of the capital. As he'd studied her features, his gut had told him she was going to be difficult. His gut was hardly ever wrong.

But it was hard not to wonder whether he'd created his own reality in that hour before their first meeting. And then fulfilled his own prophecy with that barbed comment at dinner. That was his problem with psi abilities in general. How much of it was simply self-deterministic, even if on a subconscious level?

There was more to it than her being difficult, or a psi expert, though. When she'd taken her seat beside him—smiling warmly, her auburn hair wafting jasmine with every turn of her head—parts other than his gut had responded in unexpected ways.
That
was a recipe for disaster, and he had to consider the part it might have played in his antagonistic behavior.

But Ross had been a field agent for ten years. Far from his rookie days, he was loyal to the Bureau and unfailingly professional. He could deal with one moody, sexy scientist.

*   *   *

For two days Tess holed up in her apartment on the third floor of the Seattle Psi building, a renovated circa-1900 elementary school. The abandoned Colman School had been slated for demolition ten years ago when the nonprofit Pacific Northwest Psi Foundation stepped in and converted it to a research and training facility, as well as onsite housing for scientists. Tess and Abby had offices on the second floor and apartments on the third. The first was reserved for meeting areas, a break room, and research space and equipment.

Agent McGinnis had been given one of the apartments used by visiting researchers, and he was far too close. Tess knew when he was showering or shaving. Videoconferencing or talking on the phone. Entering or leaving the apartment. She knew he didn't play loud music or watch TV. She heard him moving around at all hours and knew that like her he didn't sleep more than a few hours at a time.

She resented that she'd been forced to become so aware of him. But for now it was better than having to deal with him face-to-face. The loss of Professor Goff was a suffocating weight. Tess needed space to work through it, and she needed time to find her footing on her new assignment—
without
the interference of an outsider with an unknown agenda.

Thankfully she had a lot of catching up to do. The first item on the agenda: acquiring the details of Goff's death. Unfortunately that one proved easy to tick off, because the investigation ended at a file that had been sealed by SAS Special Projects, Britain's counter-terrorism unit.

We'll let Agent McGinnis earn his keep on this one
. She fired off an email asking him to throw his weight—and if possible, the Bureau's—behind her request to unseal the file.

After that she dove into a lifetime's worth of reading on the Echo threat. McGinnis had gotten her access to the Bureau's case files, and the University of Edinburgh, where Goff had worked as director of the Koestler Parapsychology Unit, had sent her his
Echo Dossier
, an electronic packet of research notes and video files. She was also playing catch-up on in-progress task force discussions. Grave as the situation that had led to this appointment was, it was impossible not to feel a little heady about working directly with world-renowned physicists, biologists, and psychologists.

Tess had a long-enough task list to justify holing up for a week, even considering the fact that Abby had temporarily reassigned her Seattle Psi projects to other staff members. But on the morning of the third day, having exhausted her food stores and—more critical—her coffee supply, she was forced to head down to the center's café for breakfast.

She arrived at 7
A.M
., hoping to avoid chitchat with her colleagues and intending to grab coffee and a bagel before heading back upstairs. But as she scanned her meal card for the sleepy barista, Agent McGinnis appeared before her.

“Good morning, Doctor.”

“Good morning.”

He crossed to the dispenser for brewed coffee and picked up a mug. Tess seized the opportunity to escape.

“Could I talk to you for a minute?”

Damn.
She froze in the doorway, taking a deep breath before turning. “Of course.”

“Why don't we sit outside so we won't be interrupted?”

So much for hopes of being rescued by a colleague.

Tess followed him to the double doors that led out to a small patio with a cluster of tables and umbrellas. It was the first week of August, and so far this summer they'd had nothing but rain. But the sky was finally cloudless this morning, with the sun just peeking above the hill to the east.

“Will you be warm enough?” he asked, holding the door for her. If nothing else he was considerate.

She held the edges of her cardigan together with her free hand. “I'll be fine.”

The patio faced the grounds that had once been a playfield for the school, now a rhododendron garden with benches and graveled walks. She sipped her latte and breathed the fresh morning air. It felt good to be outside while the rest of the world was just waking up. Almost the rest of the world. She glanced at her companion.

“I didn't know you and Goff were so close, Doctor. I'm sorry for your loss.”

Tess managed a polite smile. “Thank you.” No one but Abby
would
know. Goff had been more of a father to her than her real father, despite the long-distance working relationship. “What did you want to talk about, Agent McGinnis?”

“I wanted to brief you on the measures we've taken to ensure your safety.” His long fingers pressed the sides of his mug, fingernails lining up in neat, clean rows. She curled her own fingers, with picked-ragged cuticles, into her palms.

“Your building has minimal security,” he continued, “so I've called in agents from the Seattle Field Office to help me keep an eye on things. At least two of us will be on duty at all times. And you have my cell number—I'm here for you twenty-four-seven, Doctor. Call me about anything, anytime.”

Tess lifted her eyes to his face and studied him more closely. He was as neat as his fingernails—clean-shaven, with short-cropped dark hair. The black suit deepened the overcast gray of his eyes. She'd never seen him in anything else, and she wondered if he wore it every day.

“Do you have questions for me?” he asked.

“I've been wondering what I'm supposed to do with you, Agent McGinnis.”

He squinted a little and picked up his cup. “I'm not sure how to answer that.”

“You said you're here to protect me. Are you going to follow me around?”

He smiled. “You're direct, aren't you?”

“It saves time. I'm busy. I work better with people who are direct with
me
.”

“Noted,” he said with a nod. “I'm afraid the answer is yes. We will be monitoring you, as unobtrusively as possible. In fact we have been already—I have an agent walking the upper floors day and night.”

Tess raised her eyebrows. She really
had
been buried in her work. How had she failed to notice strangers pacing the creaky hallways?

“I'd also ask that you pay more attention than you normally do to your surroundings,” he continued. “The fade that killed—”

“I'd prefer not to refer to them that way, if you don't mind. They're
people
. What's happened to them is not their fault.”

McGinnis considered this, tapping the side of his cup. “As I understand, we don't really know why it's happening, do we, Doctor?”

“That's true,” she conceded. “But I think it's dangerous to dehumanize them.”

“That wasn't my intention. If you're more comfortable with the term ‘Echo,' I'll use that.” He sipped his coffee. “I'm sure you're aware the Echo that killed that French biophysicist two weeks ago appeared not five feet in front of him. The man never had a chance. I can't save you from that, so I need you to stay sharp. If anything odd or unexpected happens, even if it's just a funny feeling, like someone watching you, drop what you're doing and find me.”

Tess suppressed a smile. One of her ongoing projects at the institute involved helping research subjects sharpen their precognitive skills. She'd become an expert on “funny feelings”—which McGinnis had made clear during their first meeting he didn't believe in.

But she let it pass. “I understand.”

“Do you have any experience with firearms?”

Her stomach clenched as she anticipated what was coming next. “I don't like guns.”

“It's something we might want to consider.”