Mind Control: A Science Fiction Telepathy Thriller (Perceivers Book 2) (18 page)

“Not what I meant,” said Michael.

There was a knock on the passenger car window and Alex jumped so much he dropped his orange over the back of the chair. It hit Michael on the toe and bounced off under the driver’s seat.

Hodges was outside the car, looking inside with disapproval. “I hope you’re going to clear up all this orange peel on the ground before you leave,” he said.

Alex wound open the window fully and looked down at the mess he had created. “I was trying not to drop litter in the car.”

“Hmm,” said Hodges. He leant through the window and saw Michael sitting in the back seat. “I didn’t give you a set of keys so you could have a picnic in here with your friends.”

“Sorry,” said Michael. “We wanted somewhere private to have a meeting.”

“A meeting about what?” said Hodges.

“Something you could help us with,” said Alex.

“No,” said Michael. There was a reason he had a personal vow to stay out of Hodges’s head and he wasn’t about to break it.

“Yes,” said Alex. “You want to help us, don’t you, Mr Hodges?”

“If I can,” he said.

“No, it’s all right,” Michael told him. “We’ll find someone else.”

“To do what?” said Hodges. “You know, if you’re up to something and I don’t report it, it could get me into trouble. So you might as well tell me what it is.”

“Okay,” said Michael. “But you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.”

“Try me,” said Hodges.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

HODGES STOOD IN
the car park as the sun burnt off the last of the early morning fog and highlighted the imperfections in the tarmac. Alex leant on the bonnet of the car about two metres away, brushing the grit and dirt from what was left of the orange he had dropped in the footwell. Pauline sat on the back seat with the door open and her legs swinging outside. She had let the blanket drop from her shoulders so it lay on her lap where she could keep her hands and forearms warm.

Michael stood centimetres from Hodges, his eye line level with the knot of the tie of his chauffeur. “Are you sure about this?” he said.

“Better that I do it than someone else,” replied Hodges.

“I promise not to do anything else when I’m in there.”

“I trust you, Michael.”

Michael wasn’t sure Hodges was right to trust him. He had only ever used his perception to look inside other people’s minds and never to alter them. It was an untried procedure on a norm who didn’t have the mental capacity to resist a perceiver’s power. If something went wrong, it was Hodges’s mind that was at risk.

“Alex, can you monitor me?” Michael asked.

“Sure,” said Alex. He stood up from his position resting against the car and handed the orange to Pauline, freeing himself of all distractions.

“Okay,” said Michael to Hodges. “You shouldn’t feel anything. But if you do, or if you’re worried at any stage, just say and I’ll stop. Alex will watch what I’m doing as a safeguard.”

“It’s fine, Michael. I’m ready.” The man took a deep breath and Michael perceived his nervousness. So, he wasn’t as confident as he pretended. And yet he was willing to put himself – to put his mind – in the care of a teenager. Michael realised he must have been a very brave soldier when he fought in Iraq.

Nervous himself, Michael slipped his thoughts into Hodges’s thoughts, sensing that Alex was there also, silently perceiving. Hodges was thinking about his day – checking in with Sergeant Macaulay, filling the car with petrol and other apparently trivial chores – in the hope that he could get back home in time to catch the Arsenal football game on the telly at seven o’clock. Michael smiled to himself, it was all very normal stuff. He pushed those surface thoughts aside and went in deeper.

It was dark inside Hodges’s mind. The scars of post-traumatic stress and a broken relationship had left their mark. Beneath the cheery, optimistic exterior of his personality were pockets of depression and regions of pain hidden away in little clusters. Michael skirted around them, not wanting to reawaken any of the man’s demons.

Michael rested inside Hodges’s consciousness, getting a feel of his mind, almost as if constructing a map of his brain. Usually, if he was going in deep, Michael would aim for the section where memories were stored, causing neurons to fire and bring them to a place where he could read them. But this was different. He had to find somewhere to hide a set of instructions, somewhere where he wouldn’t be detected, a place where those instructions would lay dormant until activated. Like walking into a person’s room and planting a loaded gun in a forgotten drawer.

Hodges’s forgotten drawer lay just behind his thoughts about the day. It was the perfect place to hide a little subroutine. Like planting a gun, he would have to do it secretly, putting back everything where he found it and wiping down his fingerprints on the way, so it appeared that nothing had been disturbed.

A moment’s apprehension made him pause. Michael suddenly realised he was not prepared. It was only minutes since he and his friends had formulated the idea. He should have made more of an effort to plan what he was going to do, to work out every possibility in meticulous detail. But Hodges had been there, offering up his mind for experimentation and Michael decided to go for it. Perhaps it was a foolhardy decision.

In his hesitation, Michael’s concentration faltered.

Hodges gasped.

Michael perceived his shock, and steadied his mind. He focussed his perception so it lay undetected in the subconscious area of Hodges’s brain. “Are you all right?” he whispered to Hodges.

“Yes,” said Hodges. “Just a twinge.”

Michael decided to plant the instructions and get out.

Rather than constructing a new routine in Hodges’s mind, he decided to attach his instructions to one that already existed: Hodges’s plan to fill up the car with petrol. Michael’s plan was simple, to add a couple of commands to his habit of driving to the petrol pump, checking the gauge was at zero before starting to fill, paying at the kiosk and trying to avoid the tempting chocolate bars on the counter. It was all so easy.

Michael pulled out his perception, steadily and gently so Hodges didn’t feel a thing, wiping down his fingerprints as he left.

They faced each other on the tarmac of the car park, their minds separate again.

“Thank you,” said Michael.

“What?” said Hodges. He looked around at his surroundings like a person who had just woken from sleepwalking.

“Michael!” he said, surprised to see him.

Michael perceived his confusion.

Hodges looked behind him and saw Alex standing there with Pauline sitting on the edge of the back seat of the car with a blanket on her lap and an orange in her hand. “I didn’t give you a set of keys for the car so you could have a picnic with your friends,” he said.

In his mind, it was like he had just arrived in the car park. And yet, he felt there was something out of place. The sun was higher in the sky than it should be and the air around him warmer.

Michael shivered at the thought that he might have wiped too much as he exited from Hodges’s mind.

Pauline got up from her seat and threw Alex’s orange like a ball over to him. Alex turned and snatched the orange out of the air with the instinct of cricket player. Pauline folded the blanket into a neat square and walked over to where Hodges stood. “Thank you, Mr Hodges,” she said, handing it to him. “We’ve got to go, we’ve got roll call. Come on Alex.”

Alex took a couple of steps to catch up with her. They began the walk back towards Galen House, but Michael stayed for a moment: watching Hodges, perceiving him.

“Are you all right?” Michael asked.

“Of course,” said Hodges. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?”

“No,” said Michael. “No reason at all.”

~

MICHAEL, ALEX AND
Pauline arrived back at Galen House just as the perceivers who had been to roll call were filing out of the building. Dodging the bodies, like fish trying to swim upstream, they didn’t notice Norm the Norm standing there until the last minute. He had his arms folded and a scowl so severe it looked like his facial muscles were on steroids.

“YOU THREE!” he barked.

They stopped in their tracks.
Oh terrific
, said Michael’s thoughts.

Where are we going to say we’ve been?
thought Alex, deliberately meaning for the others to perceive.

We could say we were helping Hodges with the car
, thought Pauline.

That’s not going to work
, thought Michael.
Hodges doesn’t need any help, at least not from the three of us
.

We went for a run and got lost
, suggested Alex.

We’re not even out of breath!
thought Pauline.

“WHERE THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN?” Norm bellowed so loud, some of the other perceivers turned to look, then thought better of it, turned back and hurried away.

“We were—” began Pauline.

“I don’t want to hear it!” said Norm.

Michael and Pauline were relieved at not having to lie, but Alex thought,
If he doesn’t care, then we’re really going to get it
.

“SARKIS!”

Pauline jumped at her name being bellowed at her.

“Toilet cleaning duty for you today.”

“But sir, I’m supposed to have drill this morning,” said Pauline.

“ARE YOU QUESTIONING MY ORDERS, SARKIS?”

“N-no, sir,” she stammered. “Sorry sir.”

“BUCKLEY!”

Alex jumped at his name, even though he’d intended not to.

“Toilet cleaning for you tomorrow. SANDERSON! You can do the day after.”

“Yes, sir,” said Alex.

“Yes, sir,” said Michael. He cursed himself for being so stupid. They should have come back for roll call and picked another time to go into Hodges’s head. Another day wasn’t going to make any difference, and now he was going to lose a day with his head stuck down a bog cleaning off somebody else’s poo.

“SARKIS, BUCKLEY – DISMISSED!”

Alex and Pauline turned abruptly and headed to their quarters. Michael took a step to join them.

“NOT YOU, SANDERSON!”

Michael stopped mid-stride, his stomach knotting itself in apprehension and lack of breakfast. He perceived the concern of his friends as they walked away.

“You’re with me,” Norm ordered.

Norm took long strides towards the stairs which led to his office, with Michael following behind, not understanding why his misdemeanour should be any worse than theirs. He tried to perceive the sergeant, but there was an old song going round in his head, masking his thoughts:
Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do
…

It was a simple technique to block perception, especially if a perceiver was inexperienced or not very strong. Michael was neither of those and could, if he wanted, make the effort to perceive deeper, but reading the mind of a superior officer was against regulations and he didn’t want to risk adding to the trouble he was already in.

He followed Norm up the stairs to the administration floor:
I’m half crazy all for the love of you
…

And into his office …
It won’t by a stylish marriage
… with its window overlooking the landscaped grounds, giving him a bird’s-eye view of everything going on below. …
I can’t afford a carriage
… It was a spacious office, carpeted with solid furniture cleaned to military precision, and a bookshelf down one side full of hardcover military history books. …
But you’ll look sweet, upon a seat
… It was plush surroundings for a man of limited rank, but it supposedly made up for being put in charge of a bunch of teenagers, most of whom had no real interest in soldiering.
Of a bicycle
—

The singing suddenly stopped.

Norm the Norm thought,
I must be far enough away now
.

Far enough away, Michael assumed, from the other perceivers. So it was
them
he was trying to mask his thoughts from, not Michael.

“Where is your phone, Sanderson?” said Norm, closing the door behind them.

“It got destroyed in the fire, sir,” said Michael. “I haven’t got a new one yet.”

Norm nodded. The emotion Michael perceived from him was … sympathy. So unexpected, it took him a moment to be sure. “I thought you young people would be rushing out to get whatever new and shiny gadget is in this month.”

“I have to claim on the insurance,” said Michael. “I can’t face the hassle at the moment.”

“I understand,” said Norm the Norm, with a nod. Then – totally unexpectedly – he put a reassuring hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I know it must be difficult for you at the moment … with your father and everything.”

“Yes, sir,” said Michael, bemused.

“Even so, you should perhaps get yourself a new phone.”

“Yes, sir.”

Sympathy did not come easy for the commanding officer, and yet it was there in his thoughts. Norm let his hand drop from Michael’s shoulder and he walked round to the back of his desk.

Michael had been ordered up to the office before when he was in trouble. He knew the drill: Norm would sit down in his large leather chair and lean back while Michael stood to attention and listened to everything he had done wrong, followed by the punishment details he would have to complete. But this time, Norm did not sit. He picked up the receiver from the landline telephone on his desk and dialled a number. It was only four digits and, therefore, an internal extension. In the quiet of the office, it was possible to hear the ringing at the other end, and it being answered. “This is Sergeant Macaulay,” he told the person down the line. “Can you get that call back for me please?”

A tinny voice replied through the receiver, “Yes, sir.” Norm replaced the receiver.

He turned to Michael. “When it rings, it’ll be for you. But this is the last time I act as your personal telephone service. Do you understand, Sanderson?”

“Yes, sir,” said Michael. “Sorry, sir.” Not really sure what he was apologising for.

Norm left the office and closed the door behind him.