Chapter Nineteen

A statement released today by the Church of the Rapturous Awakening claimed that the Telepath Corps was the first step in establishing a Thought Police that would invade the mental privacy of every American and expose their secrets to the world. The Church’s leader warned that violence would be the inevitable result of invading American minds – a statement given ominous weight by the death of Officer Homchoudhury, a Telepath Corps operative who was shot down by a sniper in New York two days ago...

-AP News Report, 2015

“Well,” Art said, as the exercise came to an end. “That was an interesting disaster, wasn’t it?”

He gazed at the other eight telepaths, none of whom could meet his eye. Their emotions, leaking through their shields, were contrite; they all knew that they’d gone onto the field expecting victory and had been thoroughly screwed by the opposing force. Even telepathy couldn’t turn warriors into superhumans. Art’s team had been wiped out by the enemy.

The training ground belonged to the Marine Corps and Art had asked to borrow it for the day, once the Telepath Corps had finally been given the go-ahead to create a telepathic platoon of soldiers. Telepaths created whole new military issues and the United States intended to be ahead of the game. Art had picked eight telepaths with military training and experience, taken them onto the field and attempted to beat the opposition. The result had been a disaster.

He scowled. The telepaths might have been able to share thoughts and feelings, but none of them had worked together before, even in pre-telepathic training. It didn’t help that six of them came from units that had a tradition of rivalry and that the remaining two had spent most of their time behind various desks. None of them had been able to conceal their opinions of the others – if anyone had actually tried – and Art had had to defuse several confrontations before they turned into fist fights. The opposing force, on the other hand, was a Force Recon platoon that had worked and trained together for several years...and had refused to be bullied into making mistakes by fear of the telepaths. They’d kept their distance, fought using snipers and mortar fire, and unceremoniously wiped out the telepaths. Art allowed some of his own irritation to leak out into the mental field. The Telepath Corps needed to take the lead in developing military telepathy, if only to prevent another country from gaining a strategic telepathic superiority.

“It could have been worse, sir,” a former Delta soldier said, finally. Art managed to bite off a curse with an effort, but it was a waste of time. Everyone in the platoon would have sensed the mixture of shock and horror that had flashed through his mind. “At least we forced them to keep their distance.”

“Yes,” Art said. “And what are we going to do when the Chinese or the Russians start bombarding us with rockets or shellfire – weapons, I might add, that don’t have human minds for us to influence?”

“Die, sir,” the Delta Force soldier said. “On the other hand, we won’t be engaging enemy soldiers in the field. They’re not likely to put a platoon of telepaths in a place where they can be shot down by the enemy.”

“One would hope so,” Art agreed. He looked up as he saw Alice making her way towards the tired and smelly group. “Take five, guys; get showers and something to eat, then we’ll hash out what we did wrong later in the day.”

He had to smile as Alice wrinkled her nose when she caught a whiff of him. Four hours out on the training ground, rolling in the mud and attempting to hide from incoming fire, left one covered in mud, grime and sweat. He didn’t want to think about what might have been hiding within the mud, although the smell gave him an unwanted clue. Alice looked clean and crisp and completely out of place on the training field.

“You,” Alice said dryly, “stink!”

“Occupational hazard,” Art countered, with a wink. “Just think; you’re alive and free because rough men are getting muddy so you don’t have to.”

Alice smiled. “Senator Walker has invited us to a consultation,” she explained. “He wants to see the pair of us as soon as possible.”

“And so you came to pick me up,” Art said. “You could have called ahead.”

“I didn’t want to stay in the compound any longer,” Alice admitted. “Can you...ah, take a shower and join me in the car?”

“Sure,” Art said, without enthusiasm. A meeting with Senator Walker – offhand, he couldn’t remember much about the Senator, apart from the fact that he was on the Telepath Corps Oversight Board – would consume most of the afternoon. “Just give me ten minutes to get changed and issue a few orders and I’ll be with you.”

After spending time in Afghanistan, the showers at the base seemed like the height of luxury, but Art didn’t delay. He washed himself, spoke quickly to his second in command and then donned his fatigues. The telepath corps didn’t have a proper uniform yet – and if some had their way, it never would – so he wore basic Marine overalls. He left off his medals. The Senator would not be impressed and there was no one else to show them off to, except perhaps Alice. She probably wouldn’t be impressed by his small collection.

The car was waiting outside when he strode out of the building, the engine already humming away. The MPs would have inspected the car when it came into the base – after a series of car bombings at military facilities in America, security had been tightened up considerably – and somehow he wasn’t surprised to see them admiring the car as he climbed into the rear seat. The CIA-issue cars had been designed so that the driver couldn’t hear a word of what went on in the back seats. Art’s tired mind suggested a number of uses for that that the CIA would probably not approve of, if they ever found out.

“The Senator didn’t say why he wants to talk to us,” Alice explained, as the car powered its way out of the base and onto the interstate. Art had already guessed that. The wealthy and powerful were not in the habit of explaining themselves to their peers. “It could be something urgent, or it could be just a request for a private briefing. In either case, be polite; Senator Walker is sitting on a good chunk of our federal funding and offending him could have disastrous consequences.”

“I hate him already,” Art said. Alice made a show of rolling her eyes. “You don’t have any idea what he wants?”

“Not even a guess,” Alice assured him. She opened the secure case at her feet and brought out a set of files. “I did bring you some reading material to pass the time.”

Art had to laugh as he took the first file and opened it, placing it on his lap. Despite himself, his mind was more on Alice than on the file. She was an attractive young woman and it had been a long time since Art had been with anyone. Part of him wanted to make a pass at her and the rest of him kept insisting that it was a terrible idea. They had to work together, somehow. It was lucky, he reflected as he pretended to read the first part of the file, that it wasn’t her who was the telepath.

He lost himself in the files, refusing to even look at her, until the driver buzzed through from the driving compartment. “We’re nearly there,” he said, as they turned onto a private lane. Art had been curious as to what sort of residence a fairly-wealthy senator would own and he had to bite down a laugh when he saw the house. It was not only big, but ugly, as if the designer had deliberately tried to combine as many styles and cultures as possible. On the other hand, he decided after a moment’s study, it would be easy to defend, at least against infantry who wanted to take the building intact. Perhaps the senator or the person who had designed the house had expected to be fighting off hordes of angry taxpayers. “Please have your papers ready for examination.”

The car stopped at a car park below the house, forcing them to climb out and walk down the path on their own. Two armed bodyguards – Art sensed several more hanging back, probably covering them with hidden weapons – intercepted them and gently, but firmly examined their papers before performing a quick search. They wanted to take Art’s pistol and, after Alice had intervened, he reluctantly allowed them to keep it in custody. He felt naked without it.

“Odd,” he said, as they stepped into the house. He had just felt – and blocked – a very light telepathic peek. Someone in the house was a telepath and had just tried to peek at them. “I didn’t know that telepaths were being added to bodyguard teams...”

“The Senator insisted,” the butler said. He had an English accent that would fool anyone who hadn’t spent time in England. For reasons beyond Art’s comprehension, the men and women who were wealthy enough to hire butlers were insistent that they had to be English, or close enough to English to fool a casual observer. “The man has enemies and refuses to take chances with the safety of his family.”

“Wise of him,” Art observed, neutrally. The butler was leading them up the stairs and Art was glancing around, trying to fix the route in his mind. The interior of the house, at least, was surprisingly tasteful. “Does the Senator get many death threats?”

The butler didn’t answer. Instead, he knocked on a wooden door and opened it a moment later. “The Senator will see you now,” he said, ushering them through the door and closing it after them. “Please don’t hesitate to call if there is anything you need.”

Senator Walker proved to be a genial man, with short white hair and a smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes. His handshake was strong and firm, without any silly dominance games, although that might have been because he knew that Art was a Marine and probably stronger than him. Art tried to read the Senator’s emotional state, but all he picked up was extreme agitation and near-panic. The Senator hadn’t called them to discuss the Telepath Corps at all! He was tempted to probe deeper, yet there was no time. The Senator was already waving them to chairs and offering them coffee from a side table, playing the good host.

“Thank you for coming,” Senator Walker said, as he sat back in his own chair. “I understand, do I not, that you have both agreed to be guided by the professional ethics of the Telepath Corps?”

Art looked at Alice, and then back at Senator Walker. “I have agreed to abide by the ethical instructions given to us,” he said. Registered telepaths operated under similar rules to doctors; they were bound not to discuss what they saw in a person’s mind, without a warrant or permission from their target. “I believe that that should suffice for you.”

“And I am not a telepath,” Alice added. “What can we do for you?”

“You must understand that this is a delicate matter,” Senator Walker said. “I must ask you both for your word that you will keep what we discuss to yourself.”

Art frowned. He would have been offended, had he not sensed the fear underlying the Senator’s words. Something was terrifying the Senator, one of the most powerful men in America. Logically, it had something to do with telepaths, perhaps even the mystery telepath who had joined his bodyguards. Somehow, Art doubted that he wanted a quiet, off-the-record briefing.

“I won’t talk about it, provided that it does not include criminal activity,” Art said, finally. Alice seconded him a moment later. He repeated Alice’s question. “What can we do for you?”

The Senator hesitated, reluctant to speak. “When I was a younger man,” he said, finally, “I had an affair with one of the young ladies who worked in my office. I was a very junior congressman at the time and I didn’t think about the consequences as much as I should have done. I was young, my wife and I were going through a bad patch and I thought that I could get away with it. The girl was younger than I, with long red hair and a smile that could start a party at a hundred yards. Oh, and she had the most remarkable breasts.”

Art had to hide his smile at the sudden flash of emotion from Alice. She wasn’t at all happy at the comment. Art reminded himself to look away from her and focus on the Senator. Even without doing a surface peek, he should be able to tell if the Senator was lying to them.

“Nature took its course and she got pregnant,” the Senator continued. “I was shocked to hear about it and even more shocked when she decided that she was going to keep the baby. I had repaired my relationship with my wife and I was in line for a more prestigious position. Mirabelle refused to listen to my pleas, although she did promise to keep the baby’s parentage to herself. I set up a trust fund for her to ensure that she lacked for nothing and I set up another for the child. I watched from a distance as she gave birth and brought my child up as a single mother. And I was proud of him. He grew up into a strong young man.”

“This is very interesting,” Alice interrupted, “but can we get to the point?”

The Senator nodded. “A few months ago I received a letter addressed to my personal mailbox,” he said. “The letter informed me that someone knew about my bastard child and that if I didn’t pay up, the entire world would know about him soon afterwards. I swear to you – no one apart from the mother and I know the truth behind his parentage. Only a telepath could have ferreted out the truth, either from me or his mother.”

He hesitated. “I paid,” he admitted, finally. “I followed the instructions and paid a hundred thousand dollars for their silence. A few weeks later...”

“You got a second note, demanding more money,” Alice said. The Senator nodded, once. “Why didn’t you call us in at once?”

“The note made it clear that if I went for help, the telepath would know and my secret would be out,” the Senator said. “I received no less than five demands for money and I have paid out nearly two million dollars.”

Art laughed and fought desperately to turn it into a cough. “Sir, with all due respect, why didn’t you confess the truth at once?”

The Senator scowled. “I may be putting my hat in the ring for the next election,” he said. “There are already people – political allies – suggesting that I should run for President. I have not yet committed myself, but I am tempted. A scandal like this would blow my campaign out of the water before it has even begun, to say nothing of destroying my relationship with my wife and my son’s life. And I love my wife. I would never do anything to hurt her.”

But you have, Art thought, coldly. You cheated on her and had a child with another woman.

Alice cleared her throat. “So,” she said, “what has changed?”

The Senator looked up, surprised.

“You paid out more money than most people will ever see in their lives to keep your unknown blackmailer quiet,” Alice said. Art nodded. It had never occurred to him to ask that question. “Why have you suddenly decided to call for help?”

“The latest demand wasn’t a demand for money,” the Senator said. He picked up a sheet of paper and passed it over to them. “The bastards demanded...well, read it for yourselves.”

Art skimmed the handful of typewritten lines quickly. The unknown writer hadn’t asked for money, but for a certain political decision. The Senator had been ordered to push through much harsher controls on telepaths – including mandatory use of the telepathy-suppressing drugs – or his secret would be revealed. As one of the senators appointed to the Oversight Board, the chances were good that the Senator could get the stricter controls passed.

“Weird,” Art said, puzzled. “Why would a telepath want stronger controls placed on his fellow telepaths?”

The Senator shrugged. “The crucial vote is in two weeks from today,” he said. “You have to find the bastard by then, or I will have to give him what he wants. Do whatever it takes to uncover him. Do you understand me?”

“Perfectly, sir,” Alice said. Art could sense the distaste hiding behind her smile. “We’ll be in touch.”

She didn’t speak another word until they were back in the car and heading out of the grounds. “That son of a bitch,” she said, angrily. “How dare he expect us to serve as his personal police force?”

Art frowned. “He is a Senator and he is being threatened by a telepath,” he said, mildly. Alice looked lovely when she was angry, at least when the anger wasn’t focused on him. “Catching the bastard will look good on our report sheets...”

Alice started to say something angrily and then broke off as her cell phone rang. “Spencer,” she said, and listened quickly to the speaker. “You’re sure?”

There was another burst of chatter. “All right, I understand,” Alice said. “We’ll start heading to New York now.”

She closed the phone and looked over at Art. “We have to go to New York,” she said. “A fast plane is already being prepared for us. There is a...situation there.”