Echoes (5 page)

Of course, the guy trying to kill me had to have a scary name.

"If this Murdock guy took out your entire team, what the hell do you think I can do?"

He didn't bother answering. "Murdock allowed himself to be recorded at McArthur's press conference and at the Cyber Crimes Center. He's sending a message. Play the DC3 footage, Ms. Williams.”

Nami turned her laptop around so that it faced me.

The video showed what appeared to be a hippie babbling a nursery rhyme. Then the bodies began to fall. He seemed to revel in the carnage around him.

“That is disgusting!” Sammy said. She ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Leave me alone!”

“Now show Mr. Benson the McArthur video,” Smith said.

It started playing just before the senator shot himself. McArthur sang a disturbing variation of Humpty Dumpty. Pandemonium broke out amongst the press after his suicide – the camera man tried to hold his shot steady, but the stampeding reporters knocked him sideways. Nami paused the video in the middle of the unintentional pan. She zoomed in on a man standing motionless in the middle of the carnage, a broad smile on his face. He looked nothing like the hippie in the previous video.

“I don’t understand the two different psychos at two bizarre public suicides though. You think that's the same guy?”

“Those men were the same person – Murdock. He appears to be an expert at disguise."
“I’m so glad I was brought into this,” Nami said.

“I still don't get it. What is he doing to get them to kill themselves? How could he convince Senator McArthur to kill his family?”

"We've analyzed footage from all of the media, security, and red light cameras in the area. Murdock never strayed more than three hundred yards from any of his victims. Even those who jumped from the building were within that range.
"

"So?" I asked.

“Murdock appears to be the most powerful telepath we’ve ever encountered. He not only has the ability to read minds, he can also manipulate and control them.”

“Holy shit balls,” Nami said.

“He’s the only man we have ever seen with this capability. Our telepaths could read thoughts at a limited range of around one hundred feet. It seems Murdock can direct someone’s actions at over three hundred,” Smith said. “The threat he poses to our national security can’t be overstated. If so inclined, he could potentially collapse our entire system.”

A psychopath with the ability to control the minds of our nation’s most powerful people was beyond frightening. He could start wars and launch nukes. Killing a senator hadn't even been a challenge.

“Again, what the hell do you expect me to do? You said it yourself, I've been a waste of space for years. Why is he even trying to kill me? I'm no threat to him."

“Whenever two individuals with extra sensory perception are in the same vicinity they can discern each other’s presence. Their minds form an involuntary bond that we still don't fully understand. After killing Senator McArthur, Murdock eliminated all of the other telepaths in the program. His talent for disguise, combined with no other living clairvoyants to help identify him, would make him impossible to locate. He sent those men to kill you as a means of invalidating any other resources at our disposal.”

And now I was a resource being fought over by a secretive government program and a murderous, rhyme spewing maniac. Fantastic. I felt like an insect under a magnifying glass on a sunny day.

“Let me guess, you want my help finding this Murdock guy?”

“Correct. To our knowledge, you are the last living telepath, outside of Murdock himself. This makes your assistance invaluable to us. If we can get you close enough to him, your mind will react to his presence and we can end this.”

“If he wants to kill me, why would I agree to go after him when I should haul ass in the other direction?”

“Murdock will not stop until you are dead.”

"Maybe I'll run really, really far then."

Smith considered me for several moments.

"You joined the armed forces after 9/11 because you wanted to make a difference. This is your chance. You're in position to provide a unique service to your country."

My disdain for the way the wars were handled had started almost as soon as I arrived in Iraq. I signed up to fight terrorism and free the Iraqi people. Instead, I was ordered to kick in people's doors and search their homes at gunpoint. Why? Because their neighbors turned them in for reward money offered to informants, regardless of the accuracy of their information. The last thing I did over there was free people.

By the time they shipped me out of there on a gurney, I hated everything they had me doing. The soldiers didn't run the war; the bureaucrats and the military-industrial complex called the shots. Every decision being made seemed more illogical than the last.

Despite everything, though, I always regretted not being able to make our country safer. Not being able to make a difference. The guilt over my survival and the deaths of two of my soldiers would haunt me forever. And Smith knew it.

I ran my hands through my short hair, trying to figure out what my options were. The drugs had started to wear off, but I still couldn't use my abilities. I really wanted to peek into Smith's mind.

"Assuming I could get close enough to find him, what's to stop him from making me step out in front of traffic?"

"We don't believe he'll be able to manipulate your mind," Smith said.

"You don't believe? That doesn't sound very reassuring."

"Telepaths are unable to access each other's thoughts. We're assuming the same limitations apply to Murdock's mind control."

This just kept getting better and better. They wanted me to dive headfirst into a shark tank, using hopes and dreams as floaties.

I looked over at Chuck, who hadn't moved during the entire conversation.

“What do you think, Chuck? Should I run towards danger?”

“Chuck?” he asked to my surprise.

“I didn’t realize they installed your speech software back at the factory.”

His expression didn’t change. I didn't have to read his mind to know he was thinking about how he could break me.

“Never mind,” I said. I looked back at Smith. "What about Sammy? If I agree to help you, what happens to her?"

"She'll be protected until the situation has been nullified. Her release would be too dangerous at this time."

They weren't giving me many options. I still made a show out of thinking about it.

“All I have to do is get close enough to detect him, then the cavalry comes in and takes care of business?”

Smith gave me a curt nod.

"Let's do it then. But I'm going to be really pissed if he kills me."

Sammy had been in the bathroom of this crummy hotel room for what seemed like an eternity.

Smith and his merry band of action star wannabes left an hour ago with the promise that they would need me soon. They knew that the drug they injected me with was wearing off, and Smith didn't want to be around when it did. Nami stayed behind to assist me in preparing for our upcoming 'mission', though it was far more likely that she was supposed to keep an eye on us.

Preparation didn't really appear to be a concern for her because she was playing Doom on her laptop.

"Isn't that game twenty years old?" I asked.

"Yeah, so is your face."

"Wow. That really hit me where it hurts."

I couldn't get over the fact that she looked all of twelve years old. She wasn't even approaching ninety pounds.

"How tall are you? It looks like you shop in the toddler section."

"Tall enough to kick your dumb ass."

Her foul mouth and diminutive size made for a hilarious combination. I could tell that working with her would be interesting.

Now that all of my faculties had returned, I decided to probe for some information. Images from her thoughts filled my mind, flashing by like the pages of a flip book. The feeling of it is hard to describe, but the effect is similar to copying information from one computer to the next. Within a few seconds I knew that she had told the truth about being new to the operation. Her knowledge of what was happening didn't differ from what had just been explained to me. She knew nothing about Smith.

That explains why the three stooges left her here. They knew she couldn't reveal anything they wanted kept secret.

"So, Nokia, you've been working for the NSA for two years as a tech analyst – how did you rate this crazy job?"

"Nokia? My name is Nami. And did you just mind rape me?"

"Sorry, Nancy. And yes, I did. I needed to make sure we were on the same team. Don't worry though, I only checked out your professional memories. All that weird stuff of you dressed like Japanese cartoon characters I left alone."

"Hey! Comic-Con rocks. Suck my balls. My name is Nami! I might shoot you when this is over."

That was officially the first time a woman has ever threatened me with that.

The door to the bathroom opened behind me. Sammy took a tentative step out.

"Are they gone?" she asked.

"Yes, but they should be calling for me before too long. They left Short Round here to babysit us," I said.

"Going to shoot you until you die from it," Nami whispered.

"Ash, please tell me why they were saying those crazy things to you. Why do they think you're a psychic? What do they want from us?"

Putting my hands on her shoulders, I led her over to sit on one of the beds. As crazy as this day had been for me, I had to remember that she must have felt like she had a bad acid trip

"This is going to sound bonkers to you, but the information they had on me was right. I can do the things they said."

"Stop it! Just tell me the truth!"

"Think of a random number, right now. I'll tell you exactly what it is."

"Oh please, any stupid magician can do that trick."

"Then make it a huge number that no one could guess."

"Fine."

She tried to trick me – she didn't visualize any number at all.

"Blue. You're thinking of the color blue, the same shade as my eyes."

"That's impossible! No one could—"

"It's true," I interrupted. "I've been able to do this since my brain injury."

She pushed my hands away from her shoulders and stared at me with large round eyes.

"What am I thinking now?"

"Your first dog, a German Shepherd named Max—"

"Oh my God!" she yelled as she punched me in the face.

Getting hit is something I've become accustomed to from my boxing training, but being punched right in the nose is terrible. It always makes my sinuses stuff up and my eyes water.

She was in good shape too; she hit me damn hard.