The Enlightened (Mind Dimensions #3)(55)

Just to be safe, I phase in and check on the desk clerk. As I suspected, she has no amnesia, but doesn’t have any memories of seeing us either. She was that absorbed in the phone call.

I phase out and follow Bert, who walks quietly the rest of the way. It’s like we’re invisible, but not just invisible. It’s as though we’re eye repellents. The funniest side effect happens when two rather rotund detectives almost plow through us. That’s how absorbed they were in their conversation.

As we walk, a look of awe appears on Bert’s face. I can’t blame him. If asked, these people will say they never saw us, despite us walking through the precinct in plain sight.

When we reach Kyle’s desk, I point it out to Bert.

Without a word, he sits down and touches the keyboard to wake up the PC. The monitor shows the login screen. The password page would deter most people, but Bert’s fingers dance around the keyboard for only a few minutes before he’s in. He rapidly opens and closes windows, and I’m not sure what he’s doing. It’s fine, though. I trust him. Eventually, he locks Kyle’s machine and walks over to the printer to pick up some printouts.

“Let’s go,” he mouths.

Our path back to Thomas’s car matches our way in; no one pays us any heed.

“They won’t even see us on video,” Bert says as he opens the door. “I poked around the system and deleted all relevant footage.”

“Damn, Bert, that—”

“That was some impressive Guiding,” Thomas interrupts. “At least from what I could tell from their reactions, or lack thereof.”

“You checked the place out in the Quiet?” I ask.

“I couldn’t help myself,” Thomas says. Then he looks at Bert. “What did you find?”

“This,” Bert says triumphantly and hands me a few of the printouts.

I look them over. “It’s a list of names, Bert.”

“It’s the list,” Bert says. “Don’t you get it?”

“I don’t,” Thomas says. “I have no clue.”

“He knows we don’t understand,” I say, sighing. “He just wants to build anticipation.”

“Fine, be like that,” Bert says, crossing his arms over his chest. “These are the same names as the ones I got off the USB drive you gave me in Miami. The one I cracked for you.”

“The names Jacob was going to give to his and Kyle’s pet Russian mobsters to assassinate?” Thomas is on full alert now.

“The very same list,” Bert says.

“If I had any doubt that these two were working together, they’re gone now,” I say as I digest that information.

“Right. Only it looks like your uncle—I mean, Kyle—is going to deal with them himself using his favorite tool: the Russian mob,” Bert says, his elation growing. After enjoying our stunned silence for a few beats, he hands us each a few more printouts.

I look at mine. The pictures are of normal-looking people.

“That”—Bert points at the one I’m holding—“is a nanotechnology expert. Yours”—he points at Thomas’s—“is a guy in robotics.” He gives us more printouts and goes over the master list. We learn there are in fact two guys in the field of robotics, one in genetics, three in informatics, and one in nanotechnology.

All the targets are scientists, it appears.

“This really vindicates some of your theories,” I say. I know this is what Bert wants to hear most, plus, in this case, it’s the truth and my friend deserves the credit. “Though you never explained who this weirdo is.” I show him the picture of a strange-looking guy with wild eyes.

“My guess is that he’s the patsy,” Bert says. “But before we talk about him, have a look at these.”

This next set of pictures is different. These men look hardened and dangerous. A few of the pictures are mug shots.

“I take it these are the mobsters,” I say.

“Yes.” Bert nods. “The guy whose picture you’re holding is worse than that Arkady character you had me look up. The cops are building a case against him for running illegal gambling clubs, but they haven’t made a move on him because they’re hoping to catch him doing something worse. They have him linked to several high-ranking mobsters who showed up headless in a New Jersey dumpster, as well as a few other atrocities.”

I look at the picture. Victor Sokolov. In addition to what Bert mentioned, the file also says this man has military training and is famous in the criminal underworld as a marksman. In other words, he’s the perfect weapon for Kyle. The name, Victor, sounds vaguely familiar, but I can’t place it. I feel like I’ve come across a dangerous mobster named Victor during a Read before—

“This is all very interesting,” Thomas says. “But it doesn’t tell us where Kyle is.”

“I still haven’t shown you this.” Bert hands us the last printout.

“A conference?” Thomas says. “You think—”

“The conference on transformative technologies,” Bert says. “Which, of course, means most of the scientists on that list will be in attendance.”

“You think Kyle will make these mobsters kill the scientists on the list?” Thomas asks, frowning.