The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions Book 2) (18 page)

“What I didn’t tell you yesterday was that I had a clue I was investigating. A clue related to the connection this Guide seems to have to some Russian criminals. My friend and I found out that he’ll meet the people he controls on the Brooklyn Bridge today,” I say.

“I see.” Thomas sounds calm, as though people call him up with this sort of convoluted story all the time. “Your friends, who are they?”

“Well, that part’s complicated,” I say, cursing myself for not telling him about my Reader connection the other day. “They’re what you would call Leachers.”

“What?” His tone sharpens. “How do you know Leachers? What are you doing in their company? Are you okay?”

“It’s three-twenty already,” Mira says from the couch. “We have to start preparing.”

“Look, Thomas,” I say, realizing that she’s right. “This thing is happening at four-thirty, so we’re quickly running out of time. I am okay. My friends can be trusted. I have a very good explanation for everything, but we really have to get moving. Can we meet in person and talk in the Mind Dimension? This way, no time will pass on the outside.”

He’s silent for a very long moment. “Listen, Darren . . . We just met, and this is a lot to take in and not a lot of time for me to make decisions.”

“I know, and I would be cautious too if I were you.” I’m cognizant of the fact that if I actually were him, I would’ve told me to go fuck myself. “There’s something else you should know, something that might help you trust me. I learned at the party that Hillary is my aunt. You can ask her about that. She knows the whole story.”

Another silence.

“You know,” he says finally, “I actually think I see it. There’s a distinct familial resemblance. I just didn’t realize it until you told me. That’s incredible.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say. “Does that help? We’re running out of time here, Thomas.”

“Assuming I agree to help, then yes. It takes care of a big problem I was going to raise before you brought up the Leachers.”

“What problem?”

“You said there’ll be a bunch of Russian gangsters and at least one Guide. To make matters worse, this thing is happening on a public bridge. Do you understand what that adds up to?”

“No, I am not sure that I do,” I say, confused. “Trouble?”

“You can say that again. It means that this Guide will have a lot of people he can potentially turn against us. We might not survive this encounter, and even if we do, there might be severe civilian casualties.”

“Shit,” I say, looking at Mira and Eugene in despair. I hadn’t thought that part through.

“There is a solution, though,” Thomas says. “I need to make a call. Where are we meeting?”

“Let’s meet at the South Street Seaport. Behind the mall. The part that faces the bridge,” I suggest. “It seems fitting, given the view and its proximity to the meeting.”

“Okay. I’ll bring some supplies,” Thomas says. “Can you be there in an hour? That would leave us enough time to get to the bridge even if we have to walk.”

“Yes,” I say, looking at Mira and mentally cringing at the thought of the drive ahead. “We can probably get there even sooner.”

“Okay. See you there,” Thomas says and hangs up the phone.

I meet Mira and Eugene’s expectant gazes. “I think he’ll help,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

“Well, we need to get to the bridge regardless,” Mira says matter-of-factly. “So meeting this guy is not going to sidetrack us too much. So long as it’s not some Pusher trap.”

“If it is, it would have nothing to do with me,” I say.

“I know,” Mira says. “It’s not you that I don’t trust.”

I almost say ‘since when,’ but I hold my tongue. “Mira, I’m a good judge of character. It’s a part of what I do for a living,” I say, deciding that bending the truth might help ease her anxiety. “I think Thomas is going to help. I really do.”

“We don’t have a lot of choices, Mira,” Eugene adds. “We can’t take them all on with just the three of us. At least this guy works in the Secret Service.”

“I said meeting this guy is not going to sidetrack us,” Mira says, getting up and walking to a night stand. “So stop selling me the car I already bought.”

She takes a gun from inside the night dresser. “Zhenya, do you have yours?” she says as she stuffs it into the back of her pants.

“Yes, in my room.” Her brother also gets up.

“Okay, go get it, and meet us downstairs,” she says to Eugene in a commanding tone.

It looks like she’s bossed him around before, because he rushes out of the room without hesitation or backtalk.

“What about you, Darren?” she says, her voice getting a bit softer.

“I have a gun in the glove compartment of the rental,” I say. “But I hope I don’t need to use it.”

“We have to be ready for anything,” Mira says and walks out of the room.

“You’re going to kill us, Mira.” Eugene is plastered against the passenger door as we run the second red light. We exited the Battery Tunnel just moments ago, but we’ve already flown though five blocks. “Seriously, we’re not
that
pressed for time.”

“We never should’ve taken that fucking tunnel,” she says, swerving suddenly. I think she just scared a cab driver—and those guys have seen everything. I’ve always thought they were the ones driving like maniacs, but they’ve got nothing on Mira. Hell, even Caleb isn’t as bad. But she’s still eighteen, and thinks she’s indestructible. I, by the way, never had that delusion. I’m only too aware of how destructible I am.

“There was traffic leading up to the bridges,” Eugene mumbles, still defending the suggestion he made earlier to take the tunnel.

The constant bickering Eugene and Mira engage in makes Mira’s horrible driving an even worse experience. They argue about how fast she should drive, which cars not to cut off, and the best route. Until now, I thought my moms were the worst people to be in a car with, but apparently I was wrong. Is this how all siblings behave, or am I just lucky to be in a car with a particularly bad example?

The rest of the trip lasts about three deep breaths, and then Mira swerves into a parking garage, tires screeching. I estimate that she enters it at about thirty miles per hour, but I could be lowballing it.

When I open the car door, there is a definite smell of burned tires.

As she hands the valet the keys, the expression on the guy’s face is priceless. I give him a hundred-dollar bill to get him out of his stupor and instruct him to wait at least twenty minutes before parking the car. We might return right away if we decide to drive to the Brooklyn Bridge after our talk with Thomas.

We run from the garage to the meeting spot. Despite the tenseness of the situation, I notice the beautiful view. It’s soothing to see the old ships anchored here at the Seaport, and it makes me wonder about the days when this was an active port. Near-death experiences seem to do that for me—they bring out my sentimental side.

It’s a nice Saturday afternoon, and we’re soon confronted with a crowd of people. They’re mainly tourists, but there are some locals here as well. Mira makes way for us through the crowd, rudely elbowing everyone aside.

We’re near the corner of the meeting spot, near the benches looking out onto the water, when the world goes silent. The crowds around us freeze, as do Mira and Eugene.

“Hello, nephew,” says a familiar, high-pitched voice. “You should really return my calls.”

Hillary is standing next to my frozen self, with her hand on the frozen self’s cheek. Thomas is standing next to her.

“You called me?” I say, surprised to see her there.

“Yeah, like twenty times.”

“Sorry I missed it. I was too busy keeping my lunch in my stomach. Mira’s driving is insane.” I’m finally getting rid of the strange shock that accompanies forced phasing. It’s always spooky being in the Quiet in a crowded and noisy place like this. My brain expects people to start walking and talking, but they don’t. Being pulled into this state without warning makes the disorientation worse.

“Which one is Mira?” Hillary examines a couple of pretty girls.

“Who’s Mira?” Thomas peers at the crowd. “Is that one of the Leachers you mentioned?”

“I didn’t fill him in yet,” Hillary says. “You might want to tell him the full story.”

Before I tackle the mystery of Hillary’s presence, I do as she suggests and tell Thomas everything. I have to give Thomas his due. He doesn’t freak out about having to deal with Readers, unlike my Russian friends’ reaction to working with Guides. He also takes in stride the fact that I’m a weird hybrid of both groups. I suppose his upbringing—not being part of the Guide community from birth—can explain it. Still, bigotry is all too easy to adopt, so the fact that he seems to have an open mind on the matter only reinforces my positive impression of him.

“So which one is she?” Hillary says. “I’m going to die of curiosity.”

“There,” I say, pointing at Mira. “The one who’s slicing through the crowd like an impolite knife through butter.”

“Very pretty.” Hillary smiles her approval. “But then I assumed she would be.”

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Can I bring her in? That guy with glasses is Eugene, her brother.”

“Hold on,” Thomas says. “Let’s talk privately first.”

“Okay,” I say, “now that I’ve explained myself, why don’t the two of you tell me why Hillary is here?”

“If you took my calls, you’d know my reason for being here.” She gives me a determined look. “I’m joining this mission.”

“What? No, you’re not.” I turn to Thomas. “Tell her it’s not happening.”

“You need me,” Hillary insists, and Thomas nods.

She gives me a smug look. “See? And you’re not in a position to tell me what to do.”

“Of course not,” I say quickly, not wanting to offend her. “That was not my intent. I just don’t want you getting hurt, that’s all.”

“That would be sweet if it weren’t insulting. Why am I more likely to get hurt than your girlfriend, for example?”

“I don’t want her to be here, either. It’s just that I can’t stop Mira from going. She’s a bit tougher than you . . .” I’m completely failing at finding a graceful exit out of my verbal mess.

“Uh oh, Darren. Are you saying Hillary isn’t as tough because of her size? You’re new to the community; otherwise, you’d know she doesn’t like her size criticized.” Thomas’s tone is serious, but the corners of his eyes are crinkling with amusement.

“My size has nothing to do with anything,” Hillary says, elbowing Thomas in the hip. “In this situation, I’m the one person you all need.”

Thomas nods again. “Right. Remember that problem I told you about?” he says. “How the Guide can use everyone on that bridge against us?”

I look at Hillary, remembering what she told me about her Reach. “You think you can override anyone he controls?”

“The person we’re going after could be a
she
, but yes,” Hillary says. “I have the best chance of anyone I know.”

“It’s true,” Thomas confirms. “You have to trust me, Darren. Hillary has a very good reason to be here. I wouldn’t have brought her otherwise.”

“And I wouldn’t have come if he didn’t drop your name, Darren,” she says. “I’m still a bit hesitant, but I think my presence can actually help avoid any unnecessary violence.”

“Now that we have established who should be here, it might be a good moment to point out who probably shouldn’t,” Thomas says, pointedly glancing at Mira and Eugene.

“We can’t
not
take them. It’s Mira’s revenge,” I say, my eyes lingering on Mira’s face. “She’s been doing nothing but dreaming about getting this person.”

“You’re just building the case against taking her. She sounds like she could be a liability,” Thomas says. “She’s likely to do something reckless and get herself or us in danger.”

“I don’t think we have much choice,” I say. “She’ll be there, no matter what we do. If we want to avoid violence, we better take her with us.”

“Also, we might actually use them for my plan,” Hillary says. “It’s very crowded there, and they can help Darren with the Reading.”

“Fine,” Thomas says cautiously. “But I don’t like it.”

“Duly noted,” Hillary says, winking at me. “We’ll put that into the report, Mr. Secret Service.”

“Pull them in,” Thomas says, and I do.

In a moment, Eugene is staring at me, his jaw slack and his eyes wide. In contrast, Mira seems calm, and she’s studying the new people inquisitively.

I make quick work of introductions.

“Hillary has a plan,” I say. “Do you mind telling us what it is, Aunty?”

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” she begins saying, and then cuts herself off. “Never mind. You’re just like your mother in this. If I let it bother me, you’ll just do it more often.” She chuckles before turning to face Eugene and Mira. “I do have a plan,” she says. “Why don’t we walk over to those benches before I explain it? It might take a few minutes.”

“Sure,” Mira says, and makes us a path again, violently shoving frozen people aside. I guess this is her way of expressing her feelings about having to work with Pushers.

“She’s feisty,” Hillary whispers as we walk through a tunnel made of bodies left in Mira’s wake.

“Tell me about it,” I whisper back, making my voice as low as possible.

“Gorgeous ambience,” Hillary says when we get to our destination. She’s right; this place is famous for its awesome view of the Brooklyn Bridge.

“We didn’t come here for sightseeing,” Mira says testily. “Let’s hear your plan, Pusher.”

“First and foremost, young lady, you will not use that derogatory term on me.” Hillary gives her a stern look. “I prefer
Guide
, if you must talk about my abilities at all.”

“She didn’t—” Eugene begins.

“I can speak for myself,” Mira interrupts. “I’m sorry. I’ll call you whatever you want if you’ll just please hurry up.”

“Sure,” Hillary says. “Here’s what I have in mind . . .”

And in the silence that follows, she walks us through her idea.

“That sounds as good as anything I could’ve thought of,” says Thomas.

“Coming from you, I’ll take that as a huge compliment.” Hillary beams at him.

“I’m game,” Mira says. “This should work.”

“Me too,” Eugene says.

“I guess I’m okay with it also,” I say. “Sounds fairly safe.”

“Exactly,” Hillary says. “My main objective is that no one gets hurt.”

I notice Mira’s eyes gleam dangerously every time Hillary says something along those lines, but I keep quiet. There isn’t much to be said.

We all walk with Hillary to where her body is. She’s the one whose version of the Quiet we’re all in.

“How are we going to get there?” I ask as Hillary is about to take us out of the Quiet.

“It’s walkable,” says Thomas. “But I’d rather drive there. If the plan goes south, we might need a ride nearby.”

Everyone agrees, and Thomas convinces all of us that his car should be the one we take.

As soon as we get out of the Quiet, we walk to his car—a black minivan half a block away.

“How did you
not
get your car towed, parking there?” Eugene asks, impressed. “Or at least not get a ticket?”

“I have special plates,” Thomas says, opening the side door. “I can park wherever I want.”

Inside the car, behind the second seat, is a whole arsenal of weapons. No wonder Thomas wanted to take this car.

“I’m not touching a gun,” Hillary says as soon as she sees Thomas’s stockpile. “Don’t even try to convince me.”

“You’re staying in the car anyway, so you should be okay.” Thomas smirks. “Besides, I bet that if you needed a gun, you’d forget all about your pacifist principles. Just like if you were starving, you’d eat bacon. How about you guys? Can I interest you in a weapon, just in case?”

“I have my own,” I say, tapping the back of my pants where I have the gun Caleb gave me.

“Same here.” Mira mirrors my tap.

“Me too,” Eugene echoes.

“Okay,” Thomas says. “Then it’s just me.” He straps on a holster and puts a gun in it. He also puts a huge hunting knife in a scabbard on his belt.

“There’s really no need for this,” Hillary objects. “My plan doesn’t require any guns.”

“It’s just for contingency,” he says. “Now, everyone, please get in. We have to go.”

“I call shotgun,” I say and get into the front seat.

Mira, Eugene, and Hillary climb in the back.

“Buckle up,” Thomas says and starts the car.

It takes us two or three minutes to get to the spot where the traffic is turning onto the Brooklyn Bridge.

“Here,” Thomas says. “Darren, since you insisted, Split, now.”

I find that the pre-plan jitters aid me in phasing.

That’s part one of the plan.

I now need to pull everyone into the Quiet with me.

Originally, Hillary wanted to do this herself, saying she’s the most logical choice as one with the most Reach. I insisted that it be me. I explained to her that I have previously spent hours in the Quiet, so the relatively short amount of time the plan requires should be a snap for me.

I’m not sure why I did it. Probably to show off in front of Mira. But there was a practical side to it, too. Hillary needs to worry about bigger, more important aspects of the plan.

I phase and end up outside the car. That’s interesting. Usually, I would show up in the back seat. Because the seat is taken by my friends, however, it seems that my body chose to show up outside. I wonder how this works. The Pusher in Caleb’s memory was able to control this process. Maybe I can figure out a way to do the same? Then I remind myself that maybe it’s bad luck to want to be like that Pusher at a time like this. After all, Caleb killed him.

The cars around us are standing still. No honking or sounds of any kind. The silence seems foreboding all of a sudden.

Okay, I need to snap out of this funk. The plan is simple and easy. No danger.

To bring the rest of the crew into the Quiet with me, I touch them, one by one, through the car window.

“We walk from here,” Thomas says when he shows up.

We cross in front of the frozen cars and walk away from the road. Right over on the other side is the pedestrian portion of the Brooklyn Bridge.

As expected on a nice Saturday afternoon, the place is extremely congested, but the plan allowed for this eventuality.

“As we agreed, I’ll go ahead,” says Thomas. “My job is to recognize the Guide. Otherwise, you risk pulling him into the Mind Dimension with us, and that wouldn’t be smart.”

“I’m still not sure about this part. It’s actually one of the weaker points of the plan,” Eugene says.

“How so?” Hillary says, looking up at him.

“How do you know that you’ll recognize him?” Eugene says to Thomas.

“Well,” Thomas says, “from what all of you have told me, it seems a near certainty that this Guide lives in New York. I mean, there’s no way someone from out of town would be able to Guide so many people here and over such a length of time. And if he’s indeed local, I will know him.”