Phoenix (7 page)

"Holy shit."

* * *

Brad hit the sidewalk outside his apartment
building at a dead run. The entire trip over, he’d detected no
danger at all, when he knew he should’ve. So he had no way of
knowing if he was being followed, if his radar was broke, or if the
man had beaten Brad to the apartment and was inside right now,
doing who-knows-what to Mort.

Gasping for air, Brad barely noticed a
strange car parked next to Mort’s on the street, and instead ran
two steps at a time up the staircase and threw open the building’s
front door. He hated making so much noise at night, but fear drove
him. When he reached his apartment door, his lungs burned and he
was seeing double.

Mort pulled the door open as Brad was
reaching out to turn the knob. "What the— did you run all the way
over?" He grabbed Brad’s arm and helped him inside.

Brad couldn’t form words just yet, so he
wheezed his reply and hoped Mort could translate. He was led to a
kitchen chair, sucking wind until his teeth hurt.

"Slow it down, boy. You’re
hyperventilating."

No
shit
, Brad thought.

"Here, breathe into this," said a very
feminine voice on the other side of the table.

Brad’s vision was still blurry, but he could
make out boobs.
A
man
can
be
blind
and
half
dead
, he thought,
and
still
make
out
boobs
.

Mort took the paper bag from Laura and
slapped it over Brad’s nose and mouth. "Easy, easy."

Brad nodded, the bag inflating and deflating
with each breath. After a few moments his respiration slowed to
normal, though he was left with a hellacious headache and a queasy
stomach. Looking around the room for the first time, Brad noticed
Laura standing in the far corner watching him. He looked over his
shoulder to Mort.

"What?" Mort shrugged. "You wanted me to
leave right away, and she was still there. Figured it was safer if
I brought her, least until we figure out what’s going on."

Brad nodded and pushed back from the table.
"Yeah." He started toward the living room, chuckling and running
his hand through his hair. "Yeah."

The two in the kitchen exchanged glances.
Mort was cautious, following only after Brad failed to
elaborate.

"What happened back there?"

Brad lifted the edge of the curtain back and
looked down at the street. Everything looked the same as it had
when he got there. "Laura, is that your car?"

She appeared behind Mort. "Yes. Is it alright
to park there?"

Brad waved the question off. "Either of you
notice anything out of the ordinary when you got here? Visually
or…otherwise?" He tapped his forehead.

Both shook their heads.

"Figures," he mumbled.

Laura said, "There’s no one out there."

"No one you can see," Brad whispered.

Mort had his pen in hand and was tapping it
against his hip. "I’d say it’s about time you tell us just what the
hell is going on here."

"I saw him, Mort. I saw the man from my
dreams. The older one, the Old Suit."

"Are you sure this wasn’t another waking
vision?"

Brad shook his head and turned away from the
window. "I’m positive. I saw him as I see you standing right there.
At the Henderson’s. I went over there and he answered the door,
bigger than shit."

"Yeah, and you’ve seen dead people walking
around the tampon aisle at Wal-Mart, bigger than shit. Did you talk
to him? What did he look like? Were the Henderson’s home?"

"I think he talked more than I did. And I
don’t know about them, I didn’t see anyone else. He was there, so
that must mean he’s done something with them. Or
to
them."

Mort waved his hands. "Whoa, now. Not
necessarily."

"Yes, necessarily! Mort, he was
there
.
I
saw
him. He answered the goddamn door in a
bathrobe
. Okay, you don’t answer the door wearing that if
you just stopped by for a visit. Not only that, but saying the
boogeyman from my dreams just happened to stop by
your
neighbors’ house for a visit is the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever
heard."

"I didn’t say that."

Brad took a breath. "Yeah, okay, you’re
right. I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you’re saying. Guess I’m
just a little keyed up is all."

"We just need to be sure you actually saw
what you think you saw."

"I know."

Mort jabbed a stubby finger at the window.
"If you’re right, which it seems you might be, then what’s out
there is hiding himself from us.
That’s
what we need to be
dealing with. Yes?"

Brad and Laura agreed.

"So it’s possible for someone like us to hide
like that?" Brad asked.

Mort rubbed his temples. "Very. It takes a
good bit of skill, but it’s entirely possible."

"So he could be out there right now and we’d
never know it? He could be right outside my
door
, weapon in
hand, and we’d never know it! That has to be it, then. Why none of
us sensed any danger back at your house. Why Laura can’t see him
out there now."

"No," Mort shook his head. "Well, yes, that’s
probably why we didn’t know he was at the Henderson’s. But maybe
Laura doesn’t see him now because he simply isn’t out there. He may
not have followed you, or maybe he just hasn’t made it here yet.
Maybe seeing you scared him as badly as seeing him scared you and
he ran."

Brad frowned. "I don’t know if that makes
sense. Why would suddenly seeing me on the doorstep scare him? I
seriously doubt he’s been dreaming about me."

"And if you remember," Laura said to Mort, "I
looked at the Henderson’s when Brad took off across the street, and
I didn’t see anything."

Brad gasped and pointed at the redhead. "See.
He’s invisible.
Has
to be."

"Okay, alright." Mort considered them both
for a moment. "I stand corrected."

Brad jerked his chin toward Mort. "What are
the odds that he’s been set up in the Henderson’s house for a long
time, watching you?"

"Watching
us
," Laura corrected. "He’s
been watching us, but why? Who is he, besides the man from your
dreams?" Her eyes fixed on Brad.

Mort patted the air with his hands. "We have
notes, detailing everything we know from the dreams. We can look at
those, see if we can figure out
why
he’d be watching
us."

Brad interrupted. "I think we need to assume
that he’s been watching since
before
the meetings."

Mort nodded. "Because if he’s been watching
me, then he’s been following me, too. And I’ve been here as much as
you’ve been at my house over the past…what, year?"

"Something like that."

"We have to also assume he’s a danger to us,
even though we can’t sense him, simply because of his actions and
implied purpose in the dreams," Mort added. "Again, we’ll see what
we can determine from the notes."

"I think if he had wanted either of you dead,
he would have done it already. He’s had long enough to do it,"
Laura said.

Mort stopped pacing and faced her. "You
should head home—"

"No," Laura interrupted. "I’ll stay and help.
I’ve got the notes, we can start going through-"

"Let me finish," Mort went on. "You
are
going to help, but not from here. I want you to go home
and start making calls." He handed Laura his little brown book.
"Everyone’s contact information is in here. Reach out and warn
them."

Laura nodded and hugged the book close to her
chest as Mort showed her out.

Brad mumbled his goodbyes and stayed close to
the window, keeping watch over Laura until she was safely in the
car. He didn’t turn and face Mort until her taillights faded in the
distance. "Well, now what do we do?"

"We need to go back to the Henderson’s."

"Yes, I understand, sir."

The Old Suit sat across from his partner,
Briggs, in the corner booth of a diner on the other side of town.
His tone was humble as he spoke over the phone with his superior,
resigned to the dressing-down he knew had been coming. After
watching his target for months with no issue, everything they’d
worked so hard for was nearly destroyed by one young Psi who was
apparently too curious for his own good.

The voice on the other end of the line
continued to rant. While it wasn’t raised, it was abundantly clear
that he was not happy. Old Suit listened, as was his duty, and
strictly controlled his surface thoughts to protect his true
feelings and doubts. Working for a group of the strongest psychics
on the planet had made him extremely vigilant.

Agent Briggs was tense throughout the
exchange, undoubtedly worried he would be found
guilty-by-association and reprimanded accordingly. Agent Rakburn
narrowed his eyes.
Unbelievable
.
I
am
caught
and
this
...
amateur
remains
unseen
.

"Sir, I don’t believe that would be wi—"
Rakburn swallowed the rest of his opinion and instead bowed his
head. After another long tirade of words rolled from the earpiece,
he replied, "Yes, sir."

His superior abruptly ended the call. Rakburn
held the phone to his ear for another moment before tucking it
inside his jacket. He said nothing and stared at the coffee cup in
front of him. Could he do what had been asked of him? No, not
asked. What he had been
ordered
to do? Every fiber of what
made him Psi told him no and that his orders were wrong. He also
knew what would happen to him if he disobeyed. He needed to stall
for time until he knew what should be done.

Rakburn sniffed and straightened his tie. "We
must stay the course. Everything now depends on our ability to keep
the rogues in line and the Board calm and content. You, I, the
other agents in the field. We must not fail. We cannot.
Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Rakburn nodded. "You are to report
back to your post. I am to use the secondary until further notice."
His skills were stronger than Briggs’, so he had little doubt his
lie wouldn’t be accepted as truth.
After
all
,
Briggs
is
only
an
apprentice
.

Briggs studied his partner a moment, then
nodded. "Understood, sir. Anything else?"

"No. You may go."

Rakburn sipped at his coffee and was able to
hold his stony composure until his young partner left. Then his
shoulders slumped and he held his face in his hands.

Eliminate the targets, he had been told. The
success of the mission was at stake. Eliminate the targets,
disappear, await new orders.

He had bought himself very little time.
Rakburn needed to decide which to listen to: The Board, or his
gut.

* * *

They drove back to Mort’s in silence. Brad
was imagining all sorts of horrible things they might find at the
Henderson’s. Mort was tapping the crap out of the steering wheel
with that pen, focused solely on detection. Brad tried to ask
questions a time or two, but was politely told to "shut up and let
me concentrate." He finally settled back against the seat and
scanned every darkened corner or shadowy spot along the way. He
thought maybe Old Suit had hung around the neighborhood, watching
for them to come back. Or maybe he’d called in backup, and was
laying an ambush for them at Mort’s. It was also possible the man
had put as much distance between him and Mort’s as he could. How
could Brad know for sure? Old Suit didn’t ping on his radar.

"Look alive over there," Mort said. Instead
of pulling into his own driveway, he steered the car to the left
and parked on the street in front of the Henderson’s. He shut the
car off and stared at the front door. "You ready?"

Brad took a deep breath. "Not really,
no."

"Good. Let’s go."

Mort pushed his door open and shut it harder
than was necessary.

The noise made Brad flinch. "Shh! Jesus,
Mort. Be quiet." He eased his shut with a soft click.

The older man shrugged. "What? You know what
they say about sneaking up on a bear."

"Shit your pants and run?" Brad walked
hunched over, darting his eyes around like a strung-out crackhead.
Mort snorted and started up the sidewalk.

Brad followed, convinced the door would be
locked and they’d be forced to turn back. No
way
Mort would
participate in something illegal, such as breaking and
entering.

Wait
.
Shit
.
This
is
the
same
guy
who
got
banned
from
the
BestBuy
for
life
.

No
,
no
.
The
door
will
be
locked
.
We’ll
go
across
the
street
,
have
a
beer
,
watch
some
TV
,
no
problem
.
We’ll
pretend
this
never
happened
.

Brad looked at the house and it was dark. No
lights on in any of the rooms. Of course it was late, the
Henderson’s could be in bed. Or the Suit had killed them and
stuffed their bodies in the hall closet.

"Hey," Mort whispered. He was standing by the
door.

Brad crept up the steps. "Do you think it’s
locked?" He stared at the knob.

Mort shook his head. "Doubt it."

"It’s probably locked. Let’s go."

"Get a grip on your damn self, boy." Mort
tried the knob.

It turned.