Private Dicks (18 page)

Jason swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling tight. "I'd pretty much figured as much. It … made a lot of sense."

Eric nodded, and then continued. "I actually wanted to ask you something. Are you a precognitive as well?"

The casual question completely floored Jason. "Fuck."

"Is that a yes, then?" Eric asked.

"I guess it would be stupid to try and pretend I didn't just react like that." Jason exhaled and leaned back against the chair, closing his eyes briefly. Somehow, it felt even more uncomfortable for someone to know about him than Liam. "Yes, I am," he clarified a moment later. "A very, very minor one. Liam is much more powerful. My so-called ability does no one any good."

"I'm not so sure about that, actually," Eric said, looking speculative. "How does it usually work for you?"

"Vague feelings and stuff, mostly. Sometimes I can get a general idea what said feeling might be about. I don't get how this is relevant." Jason shrugged, shifting uneasily. It felt alien to just talk openly about his abilities.

"Are these impressions always about the future? Have you ever had a vague feeling about the present?" Eric persisted. Jason had the odd impression that Eric knew something he wasn't revealing. The words caught him off guard, however. He frowned, trying to think about what Eric had asked. He'd spent his life assuming that precognition was a future thing, and he'd been hiding that he and Liam had the ability for so long that he'd never tried to look any closer. Now that the subject had been brought up, however—

"Actually, I think maybe I have," Jason said slowly. "I never really thought about it, but sometimes I get this sense right when things are happening."

"You said sometimes you can narrow it down," Eric continued, reaction unchanging. "How does that usually work?"

"I think about things—people, objects. Some feel more right, if that makes sense." Jason was at a loss, and he wasn't sure what Eric was trying to get at.

"It does," Eric nodded, shifting position to lean forward, expression more intent. "Do you think that, if I gave you some theories, you might be able to tell me if anything sounds right in that same way?"

"Um. What?" That had definitely not been something Jason was expecting. "I don't know if it would work. I've never tried."

"Would you be willing to try now?" Eric asked. "We might be able to narrow down your brother's location."

"Well, all right." Jason didn't have much confidence in the idea, but he figured it wasn't going to hurt anything to try.

"Okay then," Eric began, sitting up straighter and immediately slipping into full business mode. "Do you think he's in any immediate danger?"

"That's hard to answer," Jason admitted, biting his lip. "I don't know if I can separate paranoia from anything that might be real. But, actually …" Jason stared out the window as he thought. He hadn't noticed any feelings strong enough to be a premonition since Liam had gone missing, and he knew the difference between premonitions of severe danger and the more generic 'something bad is about to happen'. "Actually, I don't think he is. But I really don't know."

"Do you think he's somewhere of his own free will?" Eric continued, not missing a beat.

The question annoyed Jason, but he tried not to show it. He was positive Liam hadn't just run away. "I had a really negative premonition just before he went missing. I don't think that would have happened if he'd just left on his own. And if you want a more current answer, when I think about Liam being somewhere willingly, it doesn't feel right. Whether that's precognition or just because I know Liam wouldn't purposely vanish on me, who the hell knows?"

"That's all I'm really going for at the moment," Eric said carefully, and Jason got the sense he was being placated. He made a face but didn't say anything. Eric went on. "Do you think the BPI might have taken him?"

Jason immediately shook his head. "I mean, that was one of my biggest worries, but I definitely don't have anything like a specific feeling about it. It doesn't really make sense; if they took him, they wouldn't do it in secret."

Eric went on asking several more similar questions. Not a single one 'felt' important to Jason, and the failures were frustrating him. Eventually his exasperation overwhelmed him, and he said, "Look, I don't think this is working. Sorry, but I don't think my precog works this way."

"Just bear with me a little longer?"

Jason exhaled sharply, not really wanting to. Then again, he'd rather risk feeling stupid and frustrated a bit longer than miss the slightest chance to figure out what had happened to his brother. He finally nodded, and Eric continued. "Do you think someone actively abducted your brother because of his abilities?"

"I wouldn't have come to you in the first place if I didn't," Jason pointed out, leaning his head back and glaring at the ceiling.

"True," Eric conceded. "Do you think your brother's disappearance might have something to do with organized crime?"

Jason snapped forward, suddenly feeling panicked. "Wait,
what
?" A moment later, he jumped to his feet and started pacing the makeshift office. "No way. No fucking way."

"Calm down, Jason," Eric said, his voice sounding far too reasonable. Jason ignored him, rapidly building up to a complete panic, too scattered to tell the difference between his own distress and what might have been fueled by precognition.

"Jason, please, I need you to calm down," Eric tried again, but Jason barely noticed.

There was no way that the fucking mob had kidnapped his little brother, he thought. That shit only happened in movies. It was not fucking possible. He barely noticed he was still pacing.

Abruptly, Jason felt hands on his shoulders, preventing him from moving forward. He looked up and found himself face to face with Eric. Inches away, in fact. The shock was as effective as ice water in stopping him.

They stayed like that for a long moment, and Jason noted even though he wasn't moving, his breathing hadn't particularly slowed down at all. He didn't know why Eric hadn't moved away yet, and Eric's eyes were unusually wide right then, and maybe Jason was imagining things, but there seemed to be something in his expression.

Jason moved forward slightly, absolutely certain in that moment that Eric was going to do the same.

Instead, Eric abruptly
pulled away, looking more uncomfortable than Jason could remember ever seeing him. "I'm sorry," he managed after a moment.

Something in Jason's chest suddenly went tight, and he could feel his face burning with embarrassment. He started speaking before Eric could, trying his damnedest to act nonchalant. "It's no big deal," he offered despite the crushing disappointment he felt. "Sorry for, ah, I didn't mean—"

"It's not—" Eric began.

"Don't—" Jason interrupted again, holding a hand up and looking to the side, not quite able to meet Eric's eyes. "Don't worry about it. Like I said, no big deal. Consider it forgotten."

"I—" Eric hesitated a moment longer, then took a physical step back and visibly composed himself, pulling the business air around himself like a persona. "I'll call you again once I know more."

Jason nodded, and then he fled out the door. He didn't want to be there a second longer than necessary.

*~*~*

"
In local news, Shane O'Neil, celebrated special class private investigator and son of Boston's own Chief of Police Donald O'Neil, foiled another—
"

"Stop watching that crap and finish cleanin' up, kid," Barney said as he turned off the television by remote. Jason jumped, not realizing that he'd zoned out. It was the end of his shift at the pub, and he was more than ready to go home. While work had been a welcome distraction, his mood hadn't improved much. He quickly finished wiping down the counter, his actions maybe more aggressive than they needed to be.

Once off work, Jason headed out into the brisk night. He made it halfway home before he suddenly got a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.

After a brief moment of panic, he remembered his phone and quickly took it out of his pocket; he entered a number he was now extraordinarily glad he'd taken time to memorize.

"Damn it, come on," Jason swore as the phone rang, quickening his pace despite the distinct sense that it wasn't going to make much of a difference how fast he moved.

Finally there was a small click, and Eric's voice came through the other end of the phone. "Hello, Jason? Is something wrong?"

"Something's about to happen and I don't really know what except that it has to do with Liam." Jason's voice came out pitched higher than he'd intended, and he couldn't stop himself from glancing around nervously. He was less than halfway to his apartment, and the feeling was getting worse despite his attempts to walk down different streets than usual.

"What?" Eric's voice was sharp and concerned, more emotion coloring his words than Jason was used to hearing. "Where are you? What's happening?"

"I'm on my way home, almost to that playground near E street. Nothing's happening yet, but I know it will, and I don't have a clear enough fucking picture of it to figure how to stop it!" Jason abruptly realized how much he'd unintentionally raised his voice, and he mentally cursed himself for sounding so stupid and hysterical, wishing not for the first time that his stupid 'talent' wasn't so useless.

"Okay, just calm down," Eric said. "Take a few deep breaths." Jason did as he was told, and found that it did actually help. "Okay, now, anything at all besides it having to do with Liam? You said it feels like something's about to happen to you. Maybe they've made you a target? Do you have a sense of whether someone is planning to harm you?"

Jason thought for a second, trying to analyze his instinctual feelings. "I don't think it's just about hurting me. I get the feeling that something could happen, or it could not happen—ah, fuck
.
"

Three men suddenly materialized seemingly out of nowhere, surrounding Jason. Now that was
not
fucking fair, Jason thought. No way there was a teleporter powerful enough on the eastern seaboard to drag two others along with him, which begged the question where the
fuck
did they come from? Although the presence of a teleporter explained why changing streets hadn't made a difference.

"What? Jason, what's happening?" Eric's voice came from the other end of the phone Jason had forgotten he was holding.

"These three fucking goons just—" Jason was abruptly, if not surprisingly, cut off by one of the men, who snatched his phone out of his hand and crushed it. Fucking crushing it with his bare hand. Jason went white. There was half a beat of silence, then abruptly, Jason attempted to make a run for it. He didn't even make it through the gap between the two men standing in front of him—they both reached out and grabbed for him, and he managed to evade their grip long enough to put up a half decent fight.. He almost managed to lay one of them out; he hadn't been a teenage delinquent in that district for the better part of five years for nothing, but he was badly out of practice. Then one of the remaining two cheated by pressing a cloth to his face that he noted smelled chemical. If he had to guess, he'd say it was probably exactly what chloroform smelled like. A few moments later, everything went unsurprisingly black.

*~*~*

"Damn it!" Eric swore aloud as the other end of the phone went dead. He barely resisted throwing his phone down on the table. That was something he hadn't been expecting, and he should have. Already he was berating himself for not having considered all reasonable possibilities, including the abductors coming after Jason. Hell, he still didn't know exactly what had just happened, though he had some guesses. Staying rational was far harder than it should have been, and Eric found himself having to even his breathing consciously to calm himself down. This was no time to get emotional; the game plan had just changed, and that was all.

Jason had even said exactly where he'd been. Once he felt he'd regained equilibrium, Eric grabbed his coat and headed out to investigate the scene. Logically, the odds were high that Jason had been taken by the same people that took his brother. Of course, that was no reason not to be cautious and make a thorough search of the area.

Obviously, something pretty big was going on. If he was lucky, it might be the exact kind of situation he'd been waiting for, something that would get him closer to the reason he'd first started working out of this area of the city. Of course, his priority was, by necessity, the extraction of both brothers.

A few hours later, a thorough search of the area had revealed a few key things. First of all, there wasn't even a hint of blood anywhere, which was a promising sign that Jason was unhurt. Second—and potentially more useful—a trashcan near the park had yielded a smashed cellphone, and although Eric hadn't had the chance to confirm anything, he was willing to bet it was Jason's. Even the way it had been crushed was a relevant clue. It was crumpled inward like a soda can in a way no normal physical means could duplicate. The characteristic markings meant it had been crushed telekinetically. Eric had quite a good theory of what local crime syndicate might have a powerful telekinetic on hand to abduct a couple of brothers with unusual psychic talent.
It was far too late to do anything further that night, but he had the next day pretty well planned out.

*~*~*

Eric managed a few hours of sleep that night, waking up early the next morning to make a few phone calls. Afterwards, he spent a long time in front of his bathroom mirror perfecting the look for a different alias. Normally he wouldn't use a second persona so nearby to where he was already operating, but Danny Flaherty was a well-established identity that wasn't likely to come under direct suspicion any time soon. He wasn't directly affiliated with any organized crime, but he had indirect ties to the leading local crime syndicate.

Boston's criminal underworld was controlled almost entirely by the Irish mob. There was a tenuous, unofficial truce between the mob and the local police force—the Irish syndicate held a tight monopoly over the city's criminal underground, and they tried to avoid murder and drug trafficking. In return, the police turned a blind eye to some of their less than savory actions. The general consensus was that the unspoken truce was better than the alternative, especially when compared to the crime unrest in nearby New York City. In some areas where the Irish syndicate's influence was particularly strong, locals even regarded them as neighborhood heroes.