Extrasensory (5 page)

“Go away,” she shouted, pulling the covers over her head.

Look at me.

The voice was just as commanding as it had been earlier.

As if she’d lost all free will, Mia lowered the covers and looked at him. He was back in the stretch boxers but the impressive bulge at his fly showed that he was again fully aroused. She felt a gush of fluid in her pussy and squeezed her thighs together.

I want to fuck you.

“Go away,” she repeated, but this time in a whisper.

Let me see you. All of you.

Her hands moved as if they had a mind of their own, tossing the covers away and pulling up her sleep shirt until she was naked from the waist down.

You have a gorgeous pussy. Next time I’m going to eat you until you scream in pleasure.

What? What? But how was that possible with someone who wasn’t even real?

She knew she was imagining it, but a whispery breeze stole over her as if his fingers were actually touching her. All her senses were in an acute state of awareness, so the ghostly touch aroused her as if the man had been real.

No!

She shouted it in her head and squeezed her legs together again.

He smiled, a slow, sensuous expression that promised unbelievable pleasure. Then, just as before, he was gone.

Mia turned over and buried her face in the pillow, willing herself to sleep. But the sleep she fell into was far from restful. Her dreams were invaded by ugly rocks chasing her through the city, a mechanized voice repeating over and over, “It’s all your fault.” And like a hologram above them, the erotic god of her visions.

Fridays were usually busy at the museum and this one was no exception. Three separate tours came through in the morning and, while the activities of a docent weren’t really part of her job description, Mia was usually happy to pitch in when needed. She loved describing the exhibits and relating the history of the artists. To her it was like discussing old friends. But today it frustrated her, because it meant the morning was shot. It was noon before she could steal time to access the facility’s main computer and log into Lexis-Nexis, the all-knowing database.

Her search yielded more information on the key people at Carpenter Techtronics and a hint at the type of robotics they developed. Many of the articles she found were too technical for her to understand but she was sure her friend could help her decode them. She printed out everything she found and tapped the edges of the paper to align them. She picked them up to slide them into the large envelope with her stash from the previous night but the moment her fingers gripped the pages, the picture of the rock zapped her brain. It flickered before her eyes, dancing across the printing on the page, fading in and out. She tried to hang onto the image but, as always, it disappeared before she had enough time to study it.

This time, however, something else was added. An unexpected feeling of dread sweeping over her, almost of panic and a strange voice drifting in the air, whispering,

“Someone’s going to be killed.”

Mia looked around to make sure no one was in the room with her. No, the room was empty. She was alone. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard a voice in her head, sending her a cryptic message, but she wondered if her senses had gotten screwed up by the visions of
that man
. She didn’t know what else to call him. So what was someone trying to tell her now? Who would be killed? And who was the mysterious “someone”?

She pulled a tissue from the box on her desk and blotted the perspiration on her face. Uncapping the bottle of water she always kept handy, she drank deeply, trying to steady herself. She was smart enough and knowledgeable enough from her prior experiences, to know what they key message was now. Someone was probably going to steal something from Carpenter Techtronics and someone else would be killed when it happened. But who? And what kind of rock, robot or not, would be worth killing for?

She desperately wanted to warn the company, put them on the alert but her history of unfortunate episodes reminded her not to make a move until she had every bit of information she could get. She pulled up her telephone directory on her computer, picked up the phone and dialed Chad Richardson’s number. Here was someone who didn’t think she was a nut and who she was sure could help her decipher all the information she’d gathered.

At their chance meeting in a bookstore Mia had been stunned to learn that Chad, an engineer, would be interested in something so diametrically opposed to the field he was in. They’d gone for coffee that night and many times afterwards. It was a totally asexual friendship. Mia felt comfortable enough with him to confide in him about her precognition, knowing he wouldn’t look at her as if she was a freak.

She could probe his mind on this new vision. Maybe he could even give her some clues as to the meaning of the vision. A long shot but…maybe.

“So,” she said, pleasantries disposed of, “can I interest you in a margarita on the Riverwalk tonight? I know it’s Friday but if you can get away early enough we can meet at Casa Rio by four.”

“Is this a ‘Gee, Chad, I was just thinking how great it would be to have a drink with you’ call or a ‘Hey, Chad, can I ply you with alcohol and pick your brain’ invitation?” Mia’s laugh was nervous. “A little bit of both. Are you on?”

“Of course. I’m always interested to see why my favorite psychic needs me.” Her hand tightened on the phone. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, Chad. You know how I feel about it.”

His voice sobered. “I’m sorry. But remember, I’m one of the few who has ultimate faith in your abilities.”

“And I thank you for that. So. Four o’clock?”

“See you then.”

* * * * *

Any day of the week the famous Riverwalk, the top tourist attraction in Texas, was crowded with an eclectic mixture of tourists and locals, sightseers and shoppers. The stone walkways on either side of the narrow, meandering San Antonio River passed in front of a colorful assortment of shops and restaurants and were always wall-to-wall people. On the weekends the crowds multiplied exponentially.

At Casa Rio Mia was lucky enough to snag the last empty table outside, under one of the trademark colorful umbrellas. She had deliberately chosen the meeting place for the noise factor. Here, with people chatting all around them, shouting back and forth, mariachi music punctuating the babble, her conversation with Chad would be difficult for anyone to overhear. The waitress brought the customary hot tortilla chips and took her drink order.

He arrived minutes after she did, looking as always slightly disheveled and windblown and gave her the obligatory hug and peck on the cheek. He made short work of the margarita she had waiting for him, ordered a second and sat back in his chair.

“Okay. Let’s have it. You look like you’re sitting on hot coals.” Mia knew she didn’t have to play games with Chad. He understood her, believed in her precognitive powers and she’d known him long enough to trust him. To be able to speak freely with him.

“Here’s what it is,” she said and told him about her latest “episodes”. “I’ve done all the research I can but I can’t identify what this dumb rock is or understand the information I found on robotics. I’m hoping that’s where you can help. I’d also like your take on Carpenter Techtronics.”

“Okay, kiddo, I’m happy to do what I can,” he told her. “But you know I’ve done a lot of studying on your abilities since we met and we’ve discussed it. Precognitive visions aren’t always specific. You’re getting a glimpse of a future event but because the visions are usually in bits and pieces they can be difficult to understand.”

“I know, I know. ‘If precognition is a glimpse of the true or real future, then the effects are witnessed before the causes and the causes have to be determined’.” She sighed. “I’ve heard you say it and read it often enough.”

“Okay.” He swallowed half of his second drink and held out his hand. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Mia reached into her tote to take out the envelope. But as soon as her hand closed over it, her body froze. She was gripped by an image of a knife being plunged in, her vision blurred and her whole body trembled. Dropping her tote, she reached out for the table to steady herself.

“Mia?” Chad moved around the table to the chair next to her, looping his arm around her shoulders. “Are you with me?” He picked up a glass of water from the table and held it to her lips. “Come on, drink some of this. Just a swallow.” She shut her eyes tightly, willing the image to disappear. When she opened them, she was still seated at the table, the crowd eddying around her, loud voices piercing her consciousness. Everything normal. No gory images. Her face was covered with a fine sheen of perspiration and her throat was as dry as dust but there was no image of a knife or blood.

“Come on,” Chad urged again. “Just take a sip, Mia. It’ll help you calm yourself.” She took the water glass from Chad with a hand that was still shaking. “Thank you.

I’m so sorry.”

“Honey, you don’t have to be sorry. I just worry when these things hit you.” He reached down and picked up her tote. “Let me take the envelope out and look through it, okay? You need more water?”

She looked at the glass and realized she’d drained it. “Yes, please.” Chad moved back to his original seat across from her, signaled for the waitress to bring the water pitcher and pulled the sheets of paper from the envelope. He spread them fanlike on the table. “Give me a minute to look this stuff over, okay? You just drink your water and center yourself.”

Mia forced herself to sit quietly, nibbling at the tortilla chips and sipping the fresh water. She’d pushed her margarita aside. Alcohol was the last thing she needed right now, feeling as shaky as she did, her insides like tapioca. The image of the knife being thrust into someone had lodged a knot of fear in her stomach. The visions that predicted death always frightened her beyond belief and made her feel helpless. And the whispering voice drifted through her brain again.

Someone’s going to be killed.

Chad took his time reading the printouts, finishing his margarita and ordering a glass of club soda with lime. He grinned when Mia raised her eyebrows.

“Time for a clear head.”

At last he stacked the papers back in a neat file and sat looking at her. “Giving you a crash course in robotics would take more time than either you or I want to spend, so I won’t even try. Let me just tell you this. The recent innovations in engineering have had huge impacts in medicine, criminal justice and the military. Everyone keeps trying to build a better mousetrap, as it were, and Carpenter Techtronics has been working to get out in front of everyone. Especially with their projects for the military.”

“Is that what this rock is all about?”

Chad grinned at her. “Rumor has it, in the lower circles where I travel, that they’ve designed a miniaturized robot with a lot of new bells and whistles. Things that will help both the cops and the military in a multitude of situations. But there’s a lockdown on the information, as you’d expect, so that’s all anyone knows about it.” He took a swallow of club soda. “This ‘rock’, as you call it, probably represents the robot, although why it shows up as a rock is beyond me. That’s your department, honey.” Mia chewed on a thumbnail. “If I’m reading the images right, someone’s going to try to steal it. But what if I’m wrong? What if I try to warn them and I just make a fool of myself like I’ve done so many other times? I can’t just call up the company and say I think you’ve got a problem. They’ll either ignore me or have me committed.”

“Send an anonymous email like you’ve done before. At least it will catch someone’s attention.”

“But how will I know if they even receive it? I can’t exactly ask them to acknowledge it. They’d know who sent it if I did. And what if they ignore it?” she cried.

“The voice said they’d kill him.”

W
hat if someone gets killed because I didn’t warn them?

“Then you still have the option to call them. Or, you can send the email to the newspaper at the same time. That usually gets some action.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s a really good idea. I can see the headlines. ‘Kook at it again’.” She twisted her napkin in her fingers, wishing inspiration would hit her the way her images did.

Chad reached across the table and rested his hand on her arm. “Look. They have a big press conference slated for next week. I’m guessing it’s to announce this newest techno-toy. Everyone’s watching them like a hawk. If they take the message seriously there’ll be some obvious activity and the media will report it. If not, you still have time to call, although I know that’s your last resort.”

Mia sighed and crumbled a tortilla chip. ”I guess you’re right. As usual.”

“Mia, if this thing is what I think it is and someone’s planning to steal it, whoever gets it could sell it to any one of our enemies for millions of dollars. That could be a disaster for the United States. It’s worth making an effort to warn them.”

“Okay. I hear you.” She signaled for the check. “Thanks for taking the time to meet me. Go on. I don’t want to screw up your entire Friday night.”

“It’s just a bunch of us having drinks at that new place at the other end of the Riverwalk.” He raised an eyebrow. “Want to join us?”

“Thanks but I’ll pass. I think I need some quiet time.”

Chad gave her quick, affectionate squeeze. “Call me if you need me, okay?”

“I will.”

* * * * *

She decided she’d do it tonight, before she changed her mind. The image of the plunging knife hung in her mind and a bad feeling lingered. The sooner she did something, the quicker she got a warning out, the faster someone could take action.

Chad was right. She had several options open to her. She just needed to use them one at a time.

She thought about using an internet café to send her message but she didn’t trust their security. No matter how many layers she built over her identity, public computers were set up to retain information. She’d learned that the hard way. Her laptop was a possibility but she’d discovered because of the built-in security systems at the museum, her best bet was the computer at her desk. Harder to break into and harder to backtrack.