The Forbidden Trilogy (32 page)

"But that's not why I've called you in here,"
Higgins said. "I have an assignment for the two of you."

Lucy's jaw dropped. "I thought assignments were on hold
for a while."

"They were, but this just came down from way higher up
than me. It's important, so we need a seasoned team to take it on. You two are
the best we have."

Luke tensed his shoulders, but reached for the file Higgins
dropped on the desk. He shuffled through the papers as Lucy strained to see
over his shoulder.

After a cursory skim he handed the stack to Lucy. "You
want us to infiltrate a Russian lab and steal research material? Why? What's so
important that this has to be done now?"

"The why isn't your concern. Your only job is to
complete the assignment and bring back the necessary information."

Lucy looked up from the files. "Is this even a real
assignment? Or are we being punished because we hung out with Sam?"

She tried to tap her powers, but couldn't be sure they were
working. Luke nudged her and brushed his hand through the desk. His powers
worked. Hers should too, right?

"You're not being punished. We need you in the
field."

Lucy frowned. If her powers were working properly, then he
was telling the truth. Something didn't feel right about any of this, however.
"Our powers stopped working today for a few minutes. We don't know why.
What if this happens while we're on assignment? Has this happened to anyone
else?"

She had to risk some exposure to get answers. Besides,
losing powers on a job could be deadly, and Lucy wasn't ready to die just yet.

"You'll get a full exam in the clinic before you leave.
I'm sure everything will be fine."

Truth, and lie. Nothing was fine.

"When do we leave?"

"You have a week. All the documents and IDs are being
prepared. In the meantime, go about your normal schedule."

Lucy scoffed. "Normal? In this war zone? Yeah
right."

Higgins's shoulders sagged. "I'm sure things will get
back to normal eventually."

Lucy felt a pressure build in her body, and her head buzzed.
Higgins had lied.

"Couldn't you tell this Higgins guy was lying to you
the whole time?" Brad asked.

Outside our car, the hills and mountains changed only in
their angle, moving in and out of shades of green. My brain hurt from answering
his questions. How could I explain to someone something I didn't even
understand myself?

"First," I said, "that's not how mind reading
works. People's thoughts are really complicated, and they don't always come in
words or follow linear patterns. Second, even though my best friend is a human
lie detector, no, we never caught him in a lie. Toward the end of my stay,
after Drake was captured, Higgins's thoughts disturbed me, but until then I had
no reason to suspect anything."

Drake took a deep breath in the back seat and shifted his
body to get more comfortable in his nap. I wished I could fall asleep, but Brad
had too many questions.

Brad glanced at me briefly, then fixed his eyes back on the
winding road. "So seventeen years, and you never thought they were lying
about what happens when you leave?"

Shame filled me. I should've known. What good was a freaking
mind-reading spy if she couldn't catch on to the biggest secret of all?
"No. I told you, it wasn't like that. We were treated well. We had
everything we ever needed, and the organization was careful. I really believe
that most of the staff and faculty didn't even know the full truth. I assume
that those who did know were never allowed around us."

"Then how did you figure it out so fast? I mean, Drake
shows up and boom, all your trust is gone?"

"Not just boom. First, the fact that he'd been kidnapped
was enough to give me pause. We'd never seen anyone brought to Rent-A-Kid
against his will. Second, and this is just a theory, I think Drake messed
things up for them."

Brad slurped his soda and put it back in the cup holder.
"How so?"

I gripped the armrest of my car door tightly, relieved when
both of his hands were back on the wheel. This road did not look forgiving with
its twisty, sharp turns and steep, midnight dips into nothing. "Just the
way the whole situation was handled. Getting me pregnant so fast, Drake's being
held at Rent-A-Kid at all, the random thoughts I caught running through
people—it was sloppy, and they don't strike me as sloppy. Something happened to
derail their plan. What exactly? I don't know."

Brad's mouth tightened into a grimace. I resisted the urge
to slip into his mind. My brain needed a break.

"Okay, but wh—"

"Stop!" I raised my hand as though it could defend
me from his questions. "I know you have a story to write, but can we save
the third degree for later? I'm exhausted."

The muscles in his face softened, and his grip on the
steering wheel loosened a fraction. "Sure, of course. I'm sorry, Sam, I
don't mean to push you. I'm just trying to understand. My readers, assuming I
get any, will be wondering the same things. But we can pick up some other time.
We should be getting to the cabin soon, anyway."

I rested my forehead against the cool glass window.
"What's he like, your professor?"

"Professor Shaw is... well, you'll see soon enough.
He's a character."

His soft smile told me more than any words could have. I
looked forward to meeting this man.

***

I stiffened in momentary panic, unsure of how much time had
passed. Then I remembered the car, Brad, the cabin, and the muscles in my
stomach unclenched. I massaged the kinks in my neck with one hand while wiping
my eyes with the other.

"How long was I asleep?" I asked Brad.

"Only about thirty minutes. We're almost there."

Drake shifted in the back seat, and I sensed his
consciousness waking.
'I missed you.'

"I'm right here."

'I know. I just miss touching you.'

Drake reached through the gap between the seats to take over
rubbing my neck.

Brad pulled the car into the dirt driveway of a large log
cabin that sat in a copse of trees.

My stiff muscles protested as I stretched. "Are you
sure it's okay to show up without calling?"

"He can't be mad at surprise visitors when he refuses
to keep a phone."

I couldn't wrap my mind around why a grown man, who'd spent
half his life as a journalist and the other half teaching, would want to
seclude himself from the world so thoroughly.

I looked around the property. Majestic pines soared to the
sky, their brown needles littering the forest floor. The log cabin looked more
spacious than I'd expected, with large windows on every wall. "This place
does have indoor plumbing, right? Because I'm so not squatting outside."

Brad stopped the car and opened his door. "Yeah, it's
got plumbing, and electricity. Just no phone. Don't worry. Let's go."

Drake somehow beat me to my own door and opened it before I
could even touch the handle. He offered his hand, and I placed mine in it,
relishing the warmth of the contact. The guys grabbed the bags, and we walked
up a few wooden steps to the front door. The smell of pine assaulted me as we
approached.

Brad knocked once, rang the doorbell and waited.

My throat dried up and my stomach danced with angry bees as
I imagined this man's reaction to our ludicrous story. If he really didn't have
a phone, maybe we could run before he called the cops. But if he didn't have a
phone, would he have internet? We still needed to get that blog viral.

My cotton shirt clung to my body as sweat crawled down my
back despite the cold. What if Professor Shaw wasn't even home? Then what would
we do?

Before I could create an alternate plan, the door opened,
revealing a fit man in his sixties with a full head of white hair gracing his
head like a halo. His clear blue eyes widened in surprise, but not anger. I
immediately slipped into his mind to monitor him, despite how shaky I felt.

'Good to see the boy. Looking a bit thin. Wonder what
stories await from these three.... '

His thoughts were benign, nothing to panic about. Yet.

Brad and the professor hugged, then Brad turned to us.
"Professor, these are my friends, Drake and Sam. We, um, need your help.
Can we come in?"

The professor opened the door wide and stepped aside.
"Of course."

We followed him into a spacious, entirely civilized living
room with a deep, overstuffed couch, two armchairs, and a large coffee table
that actually looked like an ottoman.

Professor Shaw followed my eyes. "That table belonged
to someone famous once. Be damned if I can ever remember who. Paid enough for
it, though!"

"You have a lovely home," I said.

"Thank you. Now why don't you and Drake go sit down and
make yourselves comfortable. Brad and I will get some drinks and snacks."
He looked to Brad. "Come along."

The guys dropped the luggage in the corner, and Drake and I
sat on the couch while Brad and the professor disappeared into what was
presumably the kitchen.

'Well?'
Drake asked.

"Well, so far his thoughts are of normal things.
He's happy to see Brad, loves him to death, actually, and he's curious about
us. No red flags yet."

'Okay. Don't exhaust yourself though. You shouldn't read
him until you have to.'

"I know. I'm fine."

'Right.'

Drake put his arm around me, and I sank into him, grateful
for his strength.

Clanking noises came from the kitchen, then both men walked
through the swinging door carrying trays with sandwiches, fruit, juice and
water.

They set their trays on the famous ottoman, and Professor
Shaw waved his hand over the food. "Please, help yourself."

I greedily loaded my plate with food, and poured a glass of
water. I hadn't realized how hungry and thirsty I'd been.

Professor Shaw let us eat in silence, but once the last
crumb had been licked off my lips, the questions began. "So tell me. What
kind of trouble are you in and how can I help?"

I froze. We'd told Brad our story, but he'd grown up with
Drake. He knew this stuff existed. And yeah, we were about to spill it all on
Brad's blog, but I didn't have to sit face-to-face with doubters and haters.

Drake squeezed my hand.
'It's okay. If you hear anything
off in his thoughts, we'll leave. We can overpower him physically or mentally.
He can't hurt you.'

I knew he meant that to be comforting, but it had the
opposite effect. Professor Shaw didn't deserve to be "overpowered."
We'd barged in on his life, uninvited and unannounced. How could we consider
punishing him for not buying our story?

All eyes in the room were on me, which I guess made sense,
but I didn't have to like it. I took a deep breath and tried to still my
shaking body. It didn't work.

Professor Shaw's kind, understanding eyes held mine.
"Just start from the beginning. I don't bite."

So I did. I'd have thought that retelling my story would be
easier. If anything, my vocal chords, as if working against my will, were more
reluctant than ever to give up my secrets. All my life, I'd been told that if I
revealed them to the wrong person, everything would be screwed.

I talked for nearly an hour. No one so much as breathed too
loud.

My sweaty hand clutched Drake's cool palm. "So, that's
the story. Whoever is after us is very dangerous. We didn't know where to go or
what to do. Brad said we should come here."

No one spoke for several minutes.

A fly buzzed past my ear, startling me so bad I jumped and
broke the silence with a chirp. I felt the blood rush to my face. "Sorry.
Nerves."

"Who wouldn't be nervous after all you've been
through?" said Professor Shaw.

'Poor girl. Can't believe she's been through so much. She
must be exhausted.'

My eyes flicked to him. "Professor, you
believe
me?"

He harrumphed. "Please call me Bernard. And yes, I
believe you."

I couldn't help but grin. "Bernard Shaw. Really? As in
the famous Irish playwright and novelist?"

He smiled. "Yes. Actually, George Bernard Shaw, but
I've always gone by Bernard. My parents had a sense of humor."

"A fool's brain digests philosophy into folly, science
into superstition, and...."

"...art into pedantry. Hence University
education," Bernard finished. "One of my favorite quotes."

So far, I liked him.

My brain pounded from the lengthy connection. I rubbed my
head.

'Sam, pull out. If any red flags pop up, you can go back
in, but you're going to kill yourself.'

"Okay, for now. I just don't want any more
surprises."

The pressure eased as I slipped out of the Professor's mind,
and I enjoyed the solitude of my own thoughts. "Why do you believe me?
This story is preposterous. Don't you want to at least test us? Have me read
your mind?"

"All right, what am I thinking?"

Drake frowned at me, but I slipped in and out just fast
enough to grab his thought.
'Brad needs a girlfriend. He's wasting away as a
bachelor.'

"Ha! Really? Brad, apparently the good professor here
thinks you need a girlfriend to fatten you up. Though I have to say that
assuming the girl will feed him is a bit sexist."

Brad sat up straighter. "I do
not
need a girl in
my life right now. Are you kidding me? How would I even see her?"

He made eye contact with me, then turned his head sharply
and looked at Bernard. "I know you're open-minded, but I didn't expect
them to win you over so quickly. What aren't you telling us?"

Bernard picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. "I
spent a lot of years writing for some pretty big publications:
Newsweek
,
U.S. News & World Report
,
The New York Times
and
L.A.
Times
. As an investigative reporter, it was my job to uncover the stories
no one else could break. Once, when I was young and cocky, I landed on
something I knew would be Pulitzer material, only I kept hitting dead ends. Not
just normal, contacts-dried-up, leads-too-scared-to-talk dead ends, but
literally—people kept ending up dead. All accidents, of course, unrelated to me
or my story, but my gut told me there was more to it. I didn't take the hint. I
kept prying."