Virtually His (18 page)

Helen looked at them. They were the couple she saw in the RV session. Yeah, the names resonated. So, they stole the key. That explained the electronic bank transaction before the key was handed over to the other men.

“I would say that’s as close to a hundred percent accuracy as one could get, sirs,” De Clerq said.

“We still don’t have possession of the key to prove that her information is correct. How long will part two of this operation take? How will she know what it looks like?”

“It starts as soon as Miss Roston is ready. A plane is on standby for Germany and you’ll be informed when the operation is completed,” De Clerq said.

“And if Miss Roston fails to return with the key?” another voice added.

Helen looked up, trying to guess who the speaker was. It was tough since they all appeared to have a microphone button by their seats. “I know where it is.” She addressed all of them, since she couldn’t identify the person. “If it’s still in that building and I can get access to that room, I’ll get the key. I know what it looks like. It’s getting to it that will be the problem.”

“So how do you propose to get it? We can’t have our people storming a building overseas,” a high-ranking official pointed out. “That’s the problem with these experiments. We can’t risk lives and reputation for something that depends on one person’s say-so, especially when the information isn’t gotten through accountable means. This looking around in some kind of altered state smacks of bad science fiction, if you ask me.”

This must be one of the men who had decided not to do anything about the Intel the CIA remote-viewing program had provided the military. Generals and commanders didn’t want to be held responsible in case the information turned out to be nothing. After reading the documents to which she’d been given access, Helen had understood. Who would want to explain through the chain of command that they were sending out troops and million-dollar equipment because of something a remote viewer said?

“I’m not here to argue with you, sir,” she said quietly. “The government funded this project to train me, so take your beef to the president. And right now, it appears to be my life and reputation that’s on the line.”

She could hear several people clearing their throats and coughing, as if they were amused with her candidness. She mentally shrugged. She was a civilian; she didn’t have to kowtow to these men in their shiny buttons and talk to them as if they were emperors. Sure, they were probably very powerful people but she’d learned from experience that powerful people were often the blindest. Flyboy was looking down at his briefing papers and she couldn’t see his face.

She’d bet every dime in her bank account that he was hiding a grin.

“We’ve discussed this already, Jim,” one of the men above them interjected smoothly, “so your point’s been taken into consideration. Considering that this is a test, I think it’s going marvelously. Miss Roston’s answers satisfy me and I think we should let CCC proceed with their usual protocol in running an operation. It’s out of our hands now till it’s over. Then we’ll evaluate from there. Besides, we all sent out our candidates into the training program and CCC’s won. Unless, of course, you have a complaint against the very training program on which we, including yourself, have voted for and approved, Jim?”

“Of course not, Tom,” the other man said.

“Then let them do their job. Mr. De Clerq, you can proceed. Please call our respective offices when your operation is completed. I’ve already informed mine to take your call no matter what time it comes in.”

“Thank you, Admiral Madison,” De Clerq said.

“Good luck, Miss Roston.”

Helen looked at the man addressing her. He sounded much nicer than the other brassheads. Tall, maybe fifty-something-ish, he looked trim and dashing, unlike the usual bulky-looking guys in uniform.

“Thank you, sir,” she said. Wow, killer smile. She smiled back.

As she watched them file out from the viewing room above, an electronic curtain moved silently across the glass, shutting out the view like a window. She counted about a dozen people up there.

“Good job, Hell,” Flyboy said. “Good comeback to the snooty head of the department, too.”

Helen grinned at him. “I didn’t hear you helping me out. You were too busy swallowing your tongue.” She turned to T. “You were pretty damn quiet, too, Miss Montgomery.”

“Why bring attention to me?” T. countered. “Look at it from their perspective. Some of them are already miffed that their department didn’t get the project and funds. And some of them are military men who aren’t used to women talking back at them, let alone a contract agent beating out whom they consider their best candidates. How are you feeling?”

Helen rolled her neck. “Better. I’m good to go.”

Dr. Kirkland opened his medical case. “Next time, we’ll inject the serum before the RV session,” he said, “so we can compare the difference in stats and vitals.”

“Okay,” Helen said. She watched the needle in the IV being inserted into her vein. She took a deep breath.

“How long?”

“It’s straight into the bloodstream, so it’s going to be really fast. You’ve gone through the med courses to prepare you on what to expect.”

“What likely to expect,” Helen corrected. “You guys have added several other ingredients to the first serum. Do you think the other departments have been fiddling with their recipes too?”

“Scientists don’t fiddle, Miss Roston,” Dr. Kirkland admonished.

Helen laughed because he was doing exactly that right now, fiddling with tubes and needles as Derek wrote things in his notepad. “Whoa!” she said loudly.

“What is it?” Dr. Kirkland asked sharply.

Helen smiled at all the people around the table. They were looking at her intently. “Just kidding,” she replied serenely. “Just wanted to see how important I am to everyone.”

Flyboy chuckled. “Try standing,” he said.

Helen nodded as she watched the last of the liquid disappear into her. It was inside her. She didn’t feel any different. Everyone watched as she stood up slowly. She walked away from the chair. The exhaustion was gone. But she still didn’t feel any different.

“Rock and roll,” she declared, giving De Clerq the thumbs-up.

He wondered whether she was feeling the same sensation that he was—he couldn’t really describe it. Like loss. Or missing a part of himself.

Good to have Madison on their side. T. was right. That joint venture with the admiral’s SEAL team, giving him information on the drug lords and operatives who had caused the deaths of his men, had been a good move.

He liked Madison, anyway, a no-nonsense man under whom he’d have served willingly, had he stayed in Special Forces. A man of his word was hard to find these days.

He studied Helen for a few moments, his gaze lingering on her face, trying to read her mind. It was strange now, not being connected to her. He was growing used to checking on her emotions and her thoughts.

The emotions were easy to gauge because he felt it and knew it was her reaction. The thoughts were harder because he had to learn to separate his own from hers. It was easier in the beginning. Her thoughts were focused on his avatar body; images of his nakedness slipped into his mind and he knew that was how she saw him in VR. But it was different in remote viewing. Something had happened in the course of his putting a sexual imprint in her psyche while that brain oscillator had adjusted their brain waves to theta.

He had expected the remote viewing experience to be similar to what they had been doing but instead, her bilocation had been fully projected into his mind, as if she was the virtual reality room and he was experiencing what she was doing there. He hadn’t needed to ask her any questions at all; he could see and feel what she was seeing and doing. The only thing he couldn’t control was movement. It was a strangely…disembodied experience. With full sensory capabilities.

He was excited by the experience. He’d never thought any new thing at COMCEN could excite him that much. But then, this involved Helen and anything she did excited him. He had thought to be inside her soon, but this was really
inside
her. And he had been there to feel her response to him.

Did she know what he had done? She had to. She was a GEM operative and a remote viewing one. She’d understood the implications of sexual mind imprintment. She probably didn’t have the time to analyze it all yet but he had no doubt she would be even angrier once she did. He looked forward to their next session.

He had an inkling what that serum would do. He wasn’t suffering from RV downtime or he’d take it himself and do the operation without her needing to have that shit inside her. The thought startled him.

He had never stopped any operative—male or female—from doing what they were trained to do before. In his world, every operative was needed for whatever capacity they were trained. Sometimes, it had meant sacrifice. Often, there was compromise. He had done both.

Helen was perfectly capable at getting this operation done, with or without him. He’d watched her train for this moment and after getting some of her thoughts, he knew she was more than ready, mentally or physically. It was the drug that worried him and with Helen, he was determined not to sacrifice or compromise.

“Operation instructions,” he said softly. “Number One, Number Four, Number Seven, Number Nine. Number One will start with initiating a dummy account. Number Five will obviously be transport. Number Four take care of weapons. Stand by for further instructions from Number Nine.”

H
elen shook her head when Alex Diamond offered her a bottle of water. She wasn’t thirsty.

“Drink,” he ordered.

“Later,” she said. She examined the dress she had been given. She frowned when the bottle was shoved under her nose. “What is it with you and water?”

“You have that serum in you. The first time, you forget to eat or drink.”

She looked up and found herself staring into his light blue eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said. “I’m feeling neither hungry nor thirsty.”

“When did you last eat or drink?”

The thought hadn’t occurred to her. “A while,” she admitted. “Is it the drug doing this?”

Alex Diamond took her hand and put the bottled water in it. “It takes a few times to remember that what you aren’t feeling is still there,” he said before he walked off down the aisle of the plane.

Helen stared after him thoughtfully as she unscrewed the cap from the drink bottle. She took a long swig.

It takes a few times to remember that what you aren’t feeling is still there.
Interesting turn of phrase. And he was correct. Mentally counting, she should be hungry by now. It’d been a long day. Yet she wasn’t feeling any need for food or drink at all.

They had told her the effects of the serum but telling her wasn’t the same as experiencing it for herself. She had thought, for some reason, that she would feel like a superwoman or something, able to do anything. A high or a rush, maybe.

Nothing. She felt perfectly normal. Yet, she’d forgotten to eat and drink. Of course the drug would be insidious, you idiot. It was a painkiller. Like a giant dose of Advil or something. Like he said—she glanced down the aisle again—she had to pay attention to what she would usually be feeling. She finished her drink as she continued watching him move around the spacious plane.

Number One, that was what they called him during operations. Alex Diamond looked the part of the initiator. She thought of what little she knew about him through files. T. wasn’t too forthcoming with the information for some reason. Helen smiled wryly.

Alex Diamond, late thirties, one of the original commandos. One of the five in that incident that had killed two of her GEM sisters, one of whom happened to be his wife. The only one who had ever walked out of a COS operation and had to be lured back into the fold. In a way, Alex Diamond had initiated the beginnings of the merger between COMCEN and GEM.

Initially, the big blast had been thought to have killed all of the operatives. GEM was just a contract agency for COMCEN then, but without Diamond and the others at the helm, COMCEN was forced to change.

Helen wondered how they convinced him to come back. Alex Diamond didn’t seem the type that could be easily threatened or tempted. She had an idea T. had something to do with it. Anyway, he was back as Number One, and she was to work with him today. She glanced at her watch. Frankfurt’s time difference was six hours.

“Should I sleep, too?” she asked as he came back toward her.

It was disconcerting the way his gaze seemed penetrating and yet, uninterested, at the same time. “You won’t be able to the first time,” he said. “Your body’s confused, even though you feel fine.”

“Is that how the serum affected you?”

“SYMBIOS 1. I’ve heard your version is an improvement,” he said, his expression hardening slightly as he added, “as Armando would no doubt testify.”

Was that a warning? “They told me the thing about both serums is that they have different effects per individual. I’m just collecting data from all of you who’ve tried it,” Helen said. “It’ll help me.”

“Help you?”

He was looking at her as if she’d grown two heads. “I’m the test subject, remember?” she reminded him. “Everything you can tell me about how the serum affected you will help me adjust.”

Standing so close and being near him longer than the few times they had been together, Helen was able to study him better. He had the long lean body of an athlete. She’d read that he liked to do extreme sports, those daredevil acts that tested strength, endurance, as well as stupidity, and she wondered whether maybe that could be one of the serum’s effects. His sun-blond hair and tan certainly testified to an outdoor lifestyle. And there was something untamed about the man, in spite of the crisp and expensive snow-white shirt and tailored pants he favored, as if he held himself tightly inside. It gave him that elusive aura that made a man so damn intriguing.

“None of us have tried it long term or in high dosage,” he finally said, “except, perhaps, Armando. You’d best talk to him instead.”

“You’re not going to tell me about your experience with it,” she pushed.

He sat down directly across from her. There was that look in his eyes again, the one that was both penetrating and dismissive. “No.”

“Why not?”

“You have a drug in you, Helen,” he said quietly. “At this moment, it’s running through your bloodstream, taking over your system. You’re going to get your answers soon enough, don’t you think?”

He had a point, but she had her own reasons. She was looking to find out more about the COS commandos. “So let’s go over the details of when we reach our target again instead,” Helen said, with a shrug. “I don’t think you’re interested in playing a card game or something.”

“Which part are you confused about? The part where you dress up and stand quietly by me? Or the part where you go off on your own?” he asked.

Helen smiled. She was beginning to enjoy trying to find a way to rile Mr. Number One. “The part in between. You know, when T. makes an appearance as her U.N. self. Do you think she would be able to pull off the distraction? It might look suspicious.”

She watched with interest for Alex’s reaction. None. The man was a cool customer.

“She’s the U.N. liaison. Lobbyists walk in and out of that institution every day. Why would a think tank like Deutsche International be suspicious? They would welcome any inside information that might further their agenda.”

In her contracted stints with international think tanks, mostly under the guise of interpreter-eavesdropper, Helen had learned that deals were often made under the guise of funded projects. But there was something new going on here.

“Why do you think Deutsche International would want to buy a stolen electronic key? I know it has something to do with passwords. What exactly is it?” She felt as if she had been plunged into the middle of something bigger than a stolen key, but the briefing on the plane had only focused on this coming operation, the retrieval, and nothing else. She wanted more back story. “I know now that the institute isn’t just a regular think tank but a front, a dummy corporation. Care to enlighten me further?”

“No,” he said.

Helen cocked her head to one side. “Not a very sharing person, are you? Are you so short of words with T., I wonder?”

For the first time, she saw a glimmer of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He didn’t bother to answer her dig. Instead he stretched out his long limbs, leaned back, and closed his eyes.

Helen stared at him, for a moment considering kicking his shoes and scuffing that nice expensive leather. She knew what he was doing—punishing her probing. He’d known she wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep. She supposed she could get up and walk to the other end of the plane to bother the other two operatives at their little compartments. She didn’t even know those two, since no one bothered with introductions.

She had met Flyboy, who was in front. Alex here. Armando Chang who wasn’t here. And Big Swimmer Guy, whoever he was. She had never worked with these guys before and yet, here she was, expected to perform as part of their team. Was it part of the test? Whose?

It was becoming clear that she wasn’t just being tested by all the departments who were involved in this experiment. She was also being tested by people at COMCEN itself, not to mention her secret monitor. And probably most of these commandos knew about it, hence their leaving her alone. She had worked on teams before. There was always a team protocol, some kind of set rules to follow. She hadn’t been told of any. It was as if she was expected to just figure it out on her own, while these guys went about with their operation.

She blinked. Right. She was expected to get the key all on her own after the team had created the distraction.

She reached for the folder by her seat. They had gone over the known layout of the building itself. COMCEN had obviously had dealings with this Deutsche International before. Since it was a front, COMCEN had probably infiltrated it with some operatives.

As for T., her presence was no surprise to Helen. Alex was right: as a U.N. negotiator and lobbyist, T. would be familiar with the think tank itself. These corporations and institutes tended to work as advisors for different countries and had lobbyists of their own within the U.N.

It would be late afternoon by the time they walked into Deutsche International. By that time, T. would have made arrangements to meet with some of the officials there. The aim was to keep things chaotic with the arriving lobbyists and officials along with their respective entourages.

Add unexpectedness into the mix. Alex Diamond—correction, Alexander Barinsky, Alex’s current alias—would make an appearance, too. It was not usually easy to interrupt a top executive’s day, especially when he or she had to meet with U.N. officials. Alexander Barinsky’s presence, however, would cause a stir; some of the aides were bound to recognize him.

Although a think tank was an independent entity in itself, using different and often unorthodox sources for its research and funding, it was highly unusual for a well-known international weapons dealer to walk in on an official meet. They mixed and wheeled and dealed at private parties, not in public places. Thus, Barinsky’s sudden arrival would be a problem for the institute.

But that could be easily diverted with a few big security dudes blocking their entrance, so what was Alex using as bait to get the attention of the right people at Deutsche International? No one had told her that either.

She should feel frustrated. Or, pissed-off at the lack of information.

Helen looked at the blueprint on her lap. She felt mildly…something…She couldn’t define the emotion. Like an itch that wasn’t quite there.

The blueprint showed only what they knew, so there wasn’t any way to find out how to get to those floors underground. There was an elevator—that much she knew. She traced them in the drawing with her forefinger. Which one?

In her mind, she recreated the elevator she’d seen during RV. The wood paneling. The one button.
This elevator only goes up or down from one location.
She chased the image as it faded away. She needed more information.

Staring deeper into the blueprint, she rebuilt the whole elevator again, adding dimensions, adding a richer color—dark oak paneling, two-tone carpet, brass-looking lever on one side of a panel—and following instinct, added the feeling of weight under her feet, the way an elevator would jerk when it moved. The droning of the plane engine sounded like the hum of an elevator. Her finger traveled on its own, moving across the paper. Her eyes closed.

“What do you see, 51?”

“The key’s still there,” he told them obediently. There was something wrong with the feel of the location, though, but he dared not tell them that. Locating objects had always been iffy anyway. He had time to get to the right place while they waited here.

He felt so good. He had never felt like this in all his experience with the drug. Doubling the dosage doubled everything. He could target what he wanted faster. He could see the glow. Here was one.

He slipped into the energy of the woman passing him. Oh yeah. There was sex today. He delved deeper, looking for feedback. But the memories were running like slides—too fast—and he hadn’t found a way to slow it down yet. Those marvelous feelings he craved rushed through him like one of those European bullet trains. Too fast! No time to enjoy her!

Next.

Next!

“What do you see, 51?”

“The key’s still there,” he told them again, mentally checking quickly. Of course it was still there; they were decoding something, weren’t they? Who cared? He needed—wait, wait, wait. Deep breath. He had to work with these guys here or he would get into trouble. “Many people in this building. It’s confusing my senses a bit. Can I ask how we’re going to get to the key in this crowd?”

“He’s got a point,” the other man said. “Why are there so many damn people going there?”

“Make a couple of calls and find out,” his monitor said. “Agent 51, if the key changes location, let me know.”

“Of course,” he said. That was easy enough. It only took quick mental feedback to establish that. He didn’t particularly care what it was being used for, not right now anyway. So many people. He must find a way to slow this down.

He felt the woman from that first session, the one with the secret lover. Secret lovers were always fun. They tried out exciting stuff, no quickies in the morning, none of the boring husband-wife roll in and out. He liked what he had seen in her. Where was she?

Change channel.
Not this room.
Change channel.
Not this room.
Change channel…
she was here, talking to her man. He jumped eagerly into her energy. Oh, wow. She was talking sexy to her lover.

Her whole energy was beautiful; she was so damned turned on. Talk more, baby, keep talking. Too fast—the images were too fast—but the feeling. Oh, man, the feeling. He mentally turned the volume louder and added her heartbeat and breathing into the cadences, letting her breathy words slide through his being like warm honey.

It didn’t matter that he couldn’t hear what she was saying exactly. He felt all her sexual need in that voice. Oh, God, she was a hot bitch for sure. Her whole energy was filling up with such exquisite demand for sex. He caught a quick image of her standing naked in front of a mirror, parting her legs. He wanted that memory, he wanted—shit! What could he do to stop this speeding?

He wrapped himself inside her glow, smelling her scent, wanting her. Maybe the drug would taper off just a bit and then he would be here, ready to record.