The Next Chronicle (Book 1): Next (5 page)

Archer parked the Mustang in front of a donut shop and got out.

“
Is this really the best time for a snack?” Kit asked.

“
We aren't getting anything to eat,” he replied. “This is where we meet up with Snyder whenever we're in town.”

Kit laughed. “Seriously? It seems so...obvious. Why would he want to meet with you here? Isn't this the capital? There have to be better places.”

Archer opened the door for her and held it. In return, Kit gave him a small curtsy. Snyder was in uniform and seated at a corner booth. Archer slid in first, Kit perching next to him.

Snyder was an older man, somewhere north of fifty. He had the grizzled look of a man who had Seen Things, but his eyes sparkled when he took in Archer, who made the introductions.

“Agent Singh, this is Hammond Snyder. Ham, this is Kitra Singh. She wants to know why I ask you to meet us in a donut shop.”

Snyder gave a crooked smile. “We meet here because this guy,” he said, pointing at Archer, who beamed, “is an asshole with an obsessive love of cop jokes. Ever since he was a rookie.”

Kit glanced at Archer, who was shaking his head.

“
Singh, eh? What is that, Indian?” Snyder asked.

“
Yes, it's Indian. My first name is Hebrew, though.”

“
Huh,” Snyder said. “Must have been interesting at your house around Christmas time.”

She was deciding whether or not to wade into the quagmire that was a multiple-religion house during the holidays when Archer cleared his throat.

“We aren't here for a chat, Ham. You called in a code yellow. Give me the skinny.”

“
Yeah, sorry,” the older man said. “It's not pretty. Never is when I gotta call you. Makes a man want to talk about anything else.”

“
I know, Ham. Just give me the important parts, and Agent Singh and I will take it off your hands.”

Snyder's face was grave as he locked eyes with each of them in turn. “All right, kiddo. There's an old empty warehouse down by the river. Multiple levels. The top one sits at a busy intersection next to a bridge at street level with downtown. The other two stories stair-step down the hill right to the edge of a cliff. We followed a meth ring that led there, but we got info telling us the place is a fortress, and the boss leading the ring is a telepath. Want to guess what flavor?”

Archer groaned. “Son of a bitch. It's a Charmer, isn't it?”

Snyder raised his cup of coffee in salute.

Kit's brow furrowed. “I'm guessing we're not talking about a guy popular with the ladies, right?”

Snyder glanced at Archer. “New blood, huh?”

“Yeah, but she's quick,” Archer said. He turned to Kit. “A Charmer is what we call telepaths with a very narrow specialty. They don't have a lot of range, but they can get into your head and basically turn you into a puppet. Thing is, they don't have to control you. Just give a set of commands—which can be very complex—and send you out, you never even question it. If we're going after a Charmer, today is going to get a lot worse before it gets better.”

“
You're goddamned right,” Snyder said.

Archer ran a hand through his hair. “I'm gonna run to the bathroom. Give Agent Singh the address, old man. We'll head out when I get back.”

Kit scooted out to let him by and sat facing Snyder as he scribbled out the information on a napkin, which he slid over when he was done.

“
Thanks,” Kit said. She pondered the man as he sipped his coffee. “You and Archer worked together, then?”

“
Yeah,” Snyder replied. “He was fresh out of the academy. Spent a little over two years here before it happened.”

“
Fairmont?”

“
Yep. He was on vacation at the time. Quit a few days after, moved back to Louisville. Disappeared for a while, then next thing you know he's a unit supervisor with the OSA.” The older man leaned in. “What's your story, young lady? You don't look like a cop.”

Kit shrugged. “I've got a colorful past, but you could say I was a late bloomer.”

Snyder turned the switch, his manner going entirely over to 'cop' in a heartbeat. His eyes narrowed, and Kit could almost see the gears whirring.

“
You're his new partner, eh? Co-director and all that? Yeah, you must be, or he wouldn't have brought you here. That makes you something special, doesn't it?”

Kit glanced around, but Snyder had kept his voice low. “Yes,” she said in an equally quiet tone. “I am.”

Snyder took another sip of his coffee. “Late bloomer. I like that. The change hit you later than most, did it?”

Kit blushed, mocha skin darkening. “Actually, I didn't change until my senior year of college. It happens sometimes.”

“Yeah, so I hear,” he said. Being an officer who dealt with superhumans regularly, he would know the statistics. While most Next began to develop their powers at puberty, there were always outliers. Then there were the huge number of people of all ages whose powers ignited the day Ray Elliot killed an entire town.

“
Hear what?” Archer said from over her shoulder. “Did I miss anything important?”

“
Nah,” Snyder said. “Just chatting with your young lady here. Nothing serious.”

“
You should know better by now, you old playboy. What would your wife do if one of the women young enough to be your daughter actually said yes?”

Snyder snorted. “Shit, she'd probably thank them for keeping me out of the house for a night.”

Kit shot the older man a wink. “A night? Lieutenant Snyder, I don't think you'd last ten minutes with me.”

Snyder choked on his coffee. Archer grinned.

“Come on, Kit. Let's go meet the team.”

The field team arrived far enough ahead of Kit and Archer that by the time the Mustang rolled into the parking lot of the temporary command center, computers and equipment had already been set up inside. It was an old bakery, the rear entrance shielded from the road by other buildings. The bay door was open to let agents move in and out quickly.

Kit followed Archer into the building, which sat four blocks north of the warehouse. The bakery took up only the bottom floor. The rest were being used by agents to set up observation posts. At the center of the flurry of activity stood Deakins, a mountain of calm taking in information from half a dozen people at once without blinking.

Archer wasted no time slipping in front of the largest computer monitor and putting on an earpiece. Deakins joined him, and Kit followed.

On the screen was a detailed blueprint of the warehouse, with points marked in yellow across each of the levels. Deakins expanded the image, pointing to the dots on the first floor. She motioned for Kit to lean in closer.

“
We've got eyes on the ground floor. The front is all windows, and three quarters of the floor space is one room. There are old shelves and fixtures in there. The guards are hiding behind them. The building is offset just enough that cars going across the bridge can't really see in. We've got an agent who can remote view watching the place.”

Kit pointed to a cluster of marks next to one of the dots. “What are these?”

Archer answered. “Shorthand. One mark means small arms. Two means long weapons. A dash is armor. There are others, but they don't apply here.”

“
Why is that?” Kit asked.

Deakins motioned for a nearby agent to join them. “Because most of the other shorthand symbols deal with identifying Next. And this Charmer isn't using them. He's sticking with regular humans.”

“Jesus,” Kit said. “Those could be innocent people in there.”

Archer frowned. “Chances are they're criminals, but you nailed the gist of it. We have to act like they're victims.”

The new agent, a tall black man whose suit looked a few sizes too big, put a hand out toward Kit. “Agent Singh, I'm Ben Carlton. I'm one of the unit telepaths.”

“
One of them? How many do we have?” Kit asked.

“
Three,” Carlton said. “The other two are upstairs making sure we stay unobserved. They're general telepaths. I'm not.”

Deakins pointed to the shorthand marks. “Ben is the agent remotely viewing the target. He looks around places we can't see into, collects information.”

“That's pretty useful,” Kit said. “What's the catch? I don't see as much information next to the people on the lower floors.”

“
It's not perfect,” Ben said. “I don't see things as clearly as if I were looking at them with my eyes. I can see general shapes, though it gets clearer when I'm looking near a person. Their background thoughts and feelings help sharpen my impressions. Ground level has more data because we can physically see in there somewhat. The rest is all me.”

Kit pointed at the screen. “There are no side entrances. The walls are cinder block. One front entrance, but almost the whole facade is glass. The only other way out is on the bottom level. Rear exit.”

Kit took the mouse and scanned over the information. “Your ringleader is probably on the lowest level, surrounded by guards. He'll want to stay close to a way out. Chances are he has his heaviest hitters down there with him. But you can't just burst in through the back door and take him down, because the rest of the guards will hit you like an avalanche after you make entry.”

She pulled back from the screen and looked at Archer. “Sorry. You wanted me to sit back and watch.”

The big man shared a glance with Deakins, but raised his hands in surrender. “Go on. I want to hear your full assessment.”

Kit stared at the computer screen and blew out a breath. “I can see why you hate dealing with these guys. Anyone you send in there is at risk of being taken over by your Charmer. You have to risk a lot of personnel here because you have to cover both exits as well as the entire exterior. My guess is you'll be sending in an even mix of human agents and Next, am I right?”

Deakins shook her head. “No. We can't. If the Charmer gets control of one of us, it could get really bad. Quickly.”

“
And I'm guessing you don't have a lot of people that can resist psychic intrusion, do you?” Kit asked.

“
Not counting you, we have three Next we can send in. The telepaths are resistant, of course, but they don't do entries. The other three aren't physical Next, though they can handle a gun just fine.”

Kit let the data spin around in her head. The idea came together without effort.

“Okay,” she said. “Then you should count me. I'm here, this kind of thing is my specialty, and this guy can't get into my head. If you're willing to listen, I have a plan.”

Archer smiled.

Ten minutes later, the team gathered in the sheltered parking lot. Kit stood next to Archer as he addressed the crowd.

“
All right, guys. You all know what we're looking at here. It's a situation we've dealt with before. You know how messy this can get. We lose people every time we go up against one of these guys. Today we're going to try something new.” He stepped to the side and gestured to Kit. “This is Agent Kitra Singh. She's my new partner, which means you're once again blessed with
two
people who can tell any of you what to do.” There was a quiet ripple of laughter. Nervous and tight, but genuine.

Archer's eyes scanned the assembled group. “Normally I wouldn't do this. In fact just a short while ago I asked agent Singh to sit this one out. She's new. She doesn't know how we work as a group. I was worried that if we didn't operate normally it would put you all at more risk.”

Across the crowd there were thoughtful looks, people nodding their heads in agreement. There was fear.

“
But let me tell you something. This woman just came up with a better plan in ten minutes than anything we had for dealing with this Charmer, given our current staffing. She volunteered to take point on the entry. Rather than risk a bunch of you, she's risking herself.”

A babble of comments followed, but Archer cut them off.

“I'm handing this over to Agent Singh. She deserves your attention.” Archer stepped back into the group.

Kit stepped forward.

“I'm going to keep this brief. None of you know me, and I understand if you're concerned about what we're going to do. In just a moment Director Archer and Agent Deakins are going to give you your assignments. Our success is going to depend on timing and teamwork. I have no doubt that you'll all work as a unit. I'm told you're very good at that. If all goes as planned, this will all be over in twenty minutes. Hopefully with no lives lost.” She tried to get a read on the agents in front of her, but they didn't give her much. “Are there any questions?”

There weren't. Or at least no one was willing to ask one.

“Good,” Kit said. “Break into your groups for assignments. Whoever is in charge of managing our gear, come over to me.”