––––––––
The ride from the hotel gave me some time to think. The hits kept coming at a rapid fire pace, so I needed a little time to process everything.
Smith had called and said there was a cab waiting outside for me. It would take me to the Mt. Olivet Cemetery in Washington D.C., which was only a few miles away. During my drug induced stupor they had taken us all the way from Baltimore to a crappy hotel off of Route 50.
Why they thought Murdock would be at a cemetery hadn't been explained to me. After getting an assurance from Sammy that she wouldn't call anyone or leave the room, I took a radio earpiece from Nami and left in the cab.
So much information had been dumped on me that I was still trying to sort it. Smith said that when I got close to another telepath that I would be aware of their presence. Who knew what that meant?
Murdock's mind control capability made me nervous as hell. Judging by the footage I watched, he could make people do anything he wanted. Did that apply to me as well? Whether or not my own abilities would protect me was the big mystery. Either Smith really didn't know, or he wasn't telling me what would happen.
Smith also concerned me. Why did he tell Sammy and me so much classified information? When I was in the army I only had a secret level clearance, which is the equivalent of having an asshole; everyone has one. There is no way we were cleared to hear everything he told us. This was an atypical situation, but it still seemed way out of bounds for a man who ran an unnamed spy agency.
Nami was the other wild card. All of Smith's tech heads had been killed, so he needed some help, but Nami seemed an odd choice. She knew nothing about the operation before today, and was too young to have any extensive experience in espionage. Smith seemed too calculated to pick someone at random, so what was her role in this? It could be her lack of access to classified information that made him pick her. After all, having a telepath around a person with privileged information isn't a good idea. Even so, something bothered me about her involvement.
Dealing with the police was a problem I didn't want to think about for the time being. After taking care of Murdock I hoped Smith would be able to clear up that mess. Poor Sammy seemed more distraught over having the cops after her than knowing someone could read and control her mind.
She was so sweet and kind; I hated seeing her in this position. No one deserved anything like this, let alone someone who had never even downloaded a song illegally.
The cab stopped in the parking lot of Dave's Automotive Services, where two mechanics in oil stained coveralls pushed a tan Buick into the garage. The cemetery, visible on the other side of the shop, had dark, rain heavy clouds drifting behind it.
Though it was nice to have a few minutes of downtime, I was glad to be out of the car. I don't know what a coked up prostitute smelled like, but if I had to guess I would say it's similar to the back seat of that taxi.
"Where exactly do I need to go?" I had to push the button on my earpiece so Smith and Nami could hear me.
"Walk south-west and look for a burial service," Smith said. A slight amount of static distorted his voice.
"Whose service is it?"
"One of our agents’."
"An agent that Murdock killed? One of the telepaths?"
"Affirmative."
"Why would he go to a funeral for someone he murdered?"
"That information is classified."
If he didn't have a problem revealing all the other information to me, why draw the line here? The desire to sprint in the opposite direction almost made me turn around, but I had to do this for Sammy if nothing else.
The further I walked, the more nervous I became. I needed to keep talking.
"Are there any other paranormal abilities that I don't know about? Like telekinesis?"
"Negative. There has never been any evidence as to the existence of psychokinesis."
"That isn't very comforting, considering you didn't know mind control was possible before three days ago."
His non-response told me to shut up, but I couldn't help myself.
"What's the deal with him spouting nursery rhymes when he kills people?"
"We don't know. That is under investigation."
"Maybe he's just crazy," Nami said.
Three or four hundred yards into the cemetery I spotted the funeral. There were at least twenty people standing in a circle around the grave. My heart beat so fast I thought it might burst from my chest. I found myself hunching over, almost sneaking from headstone to headstone, and forced my back to straighten out as I got closer.
Then I felt him. It felt as if a tunnel had appeared in my mind, pushing all of the other thoughts out of the way. His fury was pure and complete. It enveloped me. Caught off-guard, I staggered sideways, clutching at a large stone cross to steady myself. The power of his mind was unbelievable. I stood still for several moments, waiting for him to take control of me. Nothing happened.
A clap of thunder made me flinch. I was wound too tight for espionage.
Who are you? he bellowed inside my head.
I didn't bother to answer; he was Smith's problem now. The group of people were still too far out for me to tell which person he might be.
I put my finger to my ear. "Smith, he's here. I don't know which one he is, but he's at the grave site."
"Roger that, E.T.A. two minutes. Ms. Williams, continue to survey the civilians with the sat feed. Watch for unusual behavior."
Even though I knew they had to keep everyone far away from Murdock to avoid detection, two minutes was an eternity when a mind controlling psychopath is less than a hundred yards from you. I didn't plan on waiting around to see who won. His voice came booming back as I turned to leave.
Smith sent you. It wasn't a question. Who are you? I took care of all the freaks being trampled under Smith's feet.
Relief set in as I realized he couldn't read my mind at all, let alone control it. I wasn't able to see his thoughts either, despite this odd connection we had. I could feel his emotions, which were almost overwhelming, but couldn't focus on specific thoughts or memories. It seemed that Smith's guess had been correct; telepaths weren't susceptible to Murdock.
You should have come for me yourself instead of sending those losers with the rocket launcher. Looks like using the cops didn't work out either. Payback's a bitch.
A large drop of rain plopped onto my hair. Several more landed around me as the pungent smell of earthworms began to seep through the ground.
Several seconds passed without a response. His anger abated as confusion took its place. He didn't seem to know what I was talking about.
Smith must have manipulated you like he does everyone. I have no idea who you are, but working for that monster has signed your death warrant.
I didn't expect this kind of reaction at all. Was Nami right about him? Was he so crazy that he didn't remember sending men to murder me only a few hours ago?
At the funeral ahead of me, a blonde woman wearing a black dress and veiled mourning hat looked around the cemetery with a sweeping gaze. Her eyes fixed on me. Was she Murdock? I knew he was good at disguising himself, but being able to pass for a woman was remarkable.
I had focused so much attention on her that I didn't see the suited man running toward me until he was less than five feet away. I tried to pivot to the side as he ran into me but his momentum was too great and we crashed into a large headstone. The block of granite didn't give an inch, though my shoulder wanted to.
I covered my head with my forearms as he began to rain down heavy blows at my face. His frantic punches were clumsy and unskilled, with little regard to his body positioning. This allowed me to put my feet on his hips and push him away. Jumping to my feet, I took a traditional boxing stance and closed the distance between us.
The mental bridge between Murdock and me kept me from focusing on the man's thoughts. What I did manage to discern seemed simple enough; he wanted to kill me. He was nothing more than an innocent bystander that Murdock used to do his dirty work. That made this fight even more difficult as I didn't want to cause him serious harm.
He bull rushed me with his head down, trying to tackle me like a linebacker. As he grabbed me I snuck my arm around his neck, clasped hands, and squeezed. This move cut off the blood supply to his brain. He thrashed around trying to get free, but his body fell limp a few seconds later. I placed him on the ground as gently as I could, his face resting on the muddy grass. He would wake up in a few minutes with a headache but he'd be fine otherwise.
I see you aren't unskilled. Unfortunately, I don't have time to deal with you personally.
Everyone at the funeral spun around and looked directly at me. Men, women, and children, most dressed in black, began to sprint forward. Even the priest had dropped his bible and ran as fast as his aged body would allow.
The rain turned into a torrential downpour.