The Talented (5 page)

I chuckled, “How you can read a book in a dream realm is amazing to me. Are you making up the story as you go along?”

Gus shut the book and replied, “Adam, nothing I do should surprise you at this point. I read this book when I was a boy, and here I can read it almost perfectly from my not inconsiderable memory. You, on the other hand, have a mind unparalleled on this earth, yet have never finished a book in all the time I have known you. What a waste.”

I retorted lightly as I sat in the sand next to him, “I have read lots of books through the memory of others. Think of it as psionic Cliff’s Notes.”

Gus frowned. “Psionic. Hmm. Interesting word choice. I never described our abilities like that to you. Researching, are we?”

“Not research, Gus. I met someone else like us. A woman. Her name is Kate and she was actually trained in this. There are others, too.” I told him Kate’s story about the Program, the fire, Fortress Investments and the murders. “I, um, promised to help.”

Gus drew in his breath sharply, “Adam, you foolish boy, why would you do such a thing? You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into. None. Please tell her you have changed your mind and that you want nothing at all to do with this. Why on earth…?” His eyes narrowed. “She was attractive wasn’t she? Has she seduced you so easily?”

I stammered, “Yes and no…I mean yes she is pretty but I didn’t…you know…” I sighed. “I couldn’t say no. Those people need my help. I have never done anything good with my talents. This is a chance to do the right thing.”

Pointing at me, Gus replied sharply, “You don’t know that. You have only heard her side of the story. Since you can’t read her thoughts without completely assaulting her mind, you have no way of knowing if she is telling the truth. Don’t trust her, Adam. If you must do this, do not open yourself up to her again, and if you feel she is not being honest with you, then get out of there.”

I met his gaze and replied, “What aren’t you telling me, Gus? Do you know something about this Program?”

Gus looked down and was silent for a time. “There were many programs, Adam. Each agency conducted secret research in ESP. Most of it centered on spying using Remote Viewing—when you send your mind to a place and time and observe…that kind of remote viewing. When I was a boy I was approached by one of those programs. Scary people. They informed me in no uncertain terms that I could either join them…or else. It was clear to me what “or else” meant.”

He had never told me any of this before. “What did you do?”

“I did exactly what I want you to do. I fled, took on a new identity hundreds of miles away. They found me a week later and abducted me. Having little choice, I worked for them for years, until I pushed it too far and ended up…well, how I ended up.”

We sat for a while, deep in thought but enjoying the warm breeze.

I finally stood and said that I should go. Gus stood and gave me a hug.

“Remember my advice, Adam. Please.”

Reeling from this new information from Gus, I left the hospital and walked aimlessly waiting for the next cab to drive by. I felt somehow betrayed that Gus kept secrets from me. He was like a father to me, and it hurt more than I would like to admit. Now he was telling me to go back on my word to help a girl who needs me. I knew it was dangerous when I promised to help, but at that time there was no reason to believe that a government program that died in a fire decades ago had anything to do with the murders.  There was still no evidence of that. It could be a lone gunman. Well…it could, technically. Either way, I had given my word to help, and that’s what I intended to do.

A taxi finally pulled over and I got in and said to the driver, “Olympus Casino in Greektown. Thanks.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Sitting in the back of the cab, I inhaled deeply and prepared myself for what was coming. My wallet was still at that casino and I was going to get it back. The problem was that they knew my face. So I was going to have to change it. When I was at St. Jude’s I saw on public television that there are gurus in India who have the ability to cut themselves without bleeding, and can go years without food or even water.  The gurus meditate and train for years to learn to control their bodies. Of course, I had to try it. I started by replacing my lunchtime with meditation. Breakfast was the next to go. That was when it became more difficult to maintain. One morning I slowed my metabolism to such an extent that the world appeared to fly past me in hyper motion. That was the breakthrough. In that state I survived on very little water and almost no food for weeks before Gus intervened and made me eat. Then I developed an interest in Buddhist monks who can meditate in freezing temperatures wearing wet clothing, and after a few hours their skin is still warm and the shirts crisp and dry. It’s a neat trick, which they achieve through meditation. Their approach works for me, but my personal technique for bodily control works much faster. It works through visualizing the cells of my body and willing them to change. The only limitation is that the changes are temporary. Eventually DNA takes over and my body goes back to normal. Small changes can disappear in a matter of hours, but not always. One Halloween I thought it would be funny to grow my canines into sharp vampire teeth. They lasted for an embarrassingly long time, almost a year. Hopefully that would not happen this time.

Sitting in the lotus position in the back of the cab, I focused first on my skin, slowly darkening it to a leathery tan. Then I darkened my irises to almost black. I can never do much with hair for some reason, other than make it grow or fall out, so I stimulated my scalp, letting the hair grow from its normal, somewhat long state to shoulder length. I shook it out so that it hid all but the front of my face from view. I then did my best to grow a mustache that didn’t look completely ridiculous.

I leaned over to see myself in the rearview mirror. If anyone were to observe me they would first notice the mustache, long hair and tan. It was going to have to be good enough, I decided as the cab pulled up to the casino entrance. The driver’s mouth gaped open as I paid him and stepped out of his cab. I calmly walked right up the stairs and through the front doors.

By this time it was late morning and to my dismay the casino was almost empty. You can’t blend into the crowd if there isn’t one around to blend into. I walked directly toward the elevator and extended my senses wide, taking in the whole building and everyone in it. My wallet was still there, in the glass walled office upstairs. The office was vacant for the time being, and I smiled at my good fortune. A tower of a man stepped up next to me, waiting for the elevator as well. He was easily seven feet tall and appeared to have the lean grace and power of a champion basketball player. Though his features appeared African, his skin was the ultra light brown of coffee with too much cream, and he wore a purple silk suit that was tailored to fit his long frame. His fingers and ears flashed with platinum and diamonds.

Curious that he might actually be some sort of sports hero, I casually scanned his surface thoughts. All I got in return was an image of looking at the top of my head from above. I was seeing through his eyes, but heard nothing. This crazy-tall man didn’t appear to have surface thoughts at all. There are some rare individuals who possess such a tremendously controlled and disciplined presence of mind that they cannot be read casually. To get into this man’s head I would have to exert brute psychic force, which is problematic for a number of reasons. For starters, he would know with certainty that someone was in his head, and wreaking havoc. Secondly, it would cause him horrible pain, and likely lasting brain damage. I found this out the hard way, one of my deepest regrets that I do not talk about. Finally, and most importantly, it would be wrong.

I’m sure that sounds funny coming from me. Some might say that every time I read someone’s thoughts or influence their actions I am violating the sanctity of their mind and free will. This is something I struggle with, but these are things I can do as easily as you can see and hear. They are simply how I experience the world and the people in it. An average mind can be read like an open book, with little prodding needed from me to call memories to the surface…but I never truly leave the surface. I knock, and they open the door. I can see inside but I do not enter. Big and tall here, I would have to rip his mental door right off its hinges. Not ok.

I grinned stupidly and asked, “How’s it going?” He regarded me with an inscrutable expression as one eyebrow raised slightly.

“It’s going,” he drawled with a deep and rolling baritone. “You need help or something? You look lost.”

“No,” I replied, “I’m good.”

The elevator arrived and I casually stepped in. I pressed the button for the second floor and it lit up, but when I pulled my hand away the light turned off. I tried again…same result. Big and tall stepped into the elevator, which suddenly seemed too small for the both of us, and briefly held a small gray device against a black square on the control panel, then pressed the same button that I did. This time it stayed lit. I looked forward and tried to look like I belonged there. Big and tall’s mobile phone rang just as the doors opened on the second floor, and I casually but purposefully walked down the hall. The lighting and decor of the hallway had more in common with the dingy basement than the flashy gambling floor. The fluorescent bulbs hidden from view behind frosted plastic cast an unhealthy pallor on the beige painted walls. I turned right, walked down the length of the hallway, made another right, and there it was. Usher’s office. I extended my mind into the room. No one was in there. Big and tall was not close either, so this was my chance. I reached for the doorknob. Locked.

One of the problems I have is choosing which one of my abilities to use in any given situation. Given my current predicament, there was no time to waste. Trying out my remote viewing skills, I reached my mind into the office and looked around. The inside of the doorknob didn’t have a keyhole, just a push button. Perfect. Focusing on the doorknob inside the office, I turned it clockwise, causing the button to pop out, and the door opened.

Everything in the room was as I envisioned it. The thick glass wall, the large floor globe, the hardwood paneling and the mahogany desk. Wasting no time, I sped over to the desk, and my wallet was…not there. I closed my eyes and felt for it. It was in the room with me, no doubt about it. It was in the wide top desk drawer. Giving it a tug, it held firm, also locked.

Some people were drawing closer to the office with a purpose, I could feel it. This was bad. I breathed deeply and dropped back into the past of this place, hoping to find a hidden key. In retrospect, I should have just broken the lock, but what can I say, I didn’t want to break the nice desk. The first image I got almost broke my focus. Big and tall out there…this is his office. He is Mr. Usher, and this is his casino. A deep voice reached out at me dimly. It was not from the past, though. It was from the present.

“I thought you were lost. Am I disturbing your nap?”

Opening my eyes, I looked up into the face of Mr. Usher. The tall man. His expression was inscrutable save for a hint of satisfaction around the eyes. John LeBlanc ran into the room next, gun in hand. He held the gun on me with a steady hand, but I could tell he was nervous.

Usher continued, “You almost had me with the disguise. The hair extensions, the dark contact lenses, that spray-on tan. Not bad. But that big, black hairy ugly caterpillar that died under your nose, that piteous excuse for a mustache, that was where you screwed up.” He barely tilted his head toward LeBlanc, “John, shoot him.”

“No,” I said with as much authority as I could muster. “You will not be shooting anyone.” I silently commanded John to NOT shoot me, deep into his mind where he could not fight it. I hoped. Such a suggestion could cause him problems pulling the trigger in the future, on anyone, but I could live with that at the moment.

LeBlanc still pointed the gun at me, but now his hand was shaking badly. Fearing that an accidental bullet was just as deadly as a purposeful one, I added, “John, everything is OK, put the gun in your pocket and go home.”

His shoulders sagged with relief and he did exactly as I asked, shuffling out the door.

“What the hell was that? John. John!” Usher looked back at me sharply, then recognition flashed in his eyes. He sat down across from me in a chair too small for his large frame, which was awkward with me sitting behind his desk in his large, plush leather chair. “A hypnotist. You’re one of those hypnotists who can tell people to quit smoking and they do it. Tell people to quack like a duck and they do it. Thought that crap was fake. Never would have believed it.” He shook his head, “But there it is.”

He stared at me for a while, as if he was making a decision about something.

“Your name is Sharpe, right?”

“Right.”

“Sharpe, just how good are you? You can cheat my blackjack dealers, reduce my security chief to your pet monkey. So can you make anyone do anything?”

Taking a moment to consider, I carefully replied, “Why should I tell you anything? You just ordered me killed a few minutes ago.”

He moved so fast I never saw his open hand reach across the desk and slap me hard across the face. It hurt so much it was shocking, and to my embarrassment, my eyes grew shiny with…moisture. Let me make it clear that I was not in any way crying, mind you. Just moist-eyed. Really.

His slap hand then pointed at me, “You cheated me. You broke into my office. You did. Don’t get all self-righteous with me, boy.”

My heart pounded with anger and I felt an impulse to lash out with everything I had. That would kill him instantly, strong minded or not, so I struggled to keep control of myself. Other creative punishments came to mind, but any show of force would reveal more of my abilities than I wanted this man to know anything about. It’s better to let him believe that I’m some sort of sideshow mentalist.

I spat out, “I can’t make everyone do everything, but I can…influence things. Your man, LeBlanc, didn’t really want to shoot me. I took advantage of that. Your dealers have tells that I can read. It’s no big deal.”