The Thought Pushers (Mind Dimensions #2)(65)

“No, not really. The fact that he’s her patient kind of threw me off,” I say, hoping I don’t piss off Thomas. Now that I think about it, I realize that the lack of significant-other pictures in Liz’s office is explained by the semi-forbidden nature of her relationship with Thomas. Obviously, she wouldn’t want to acknowledge him as her boyfriend in the work setting.

“Focus, people,” Thomas interrupts. “I need your heads in the game. You can gossip later, when we’re done with this.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Hillary salutes him.

Mira watches the whole exchange with a strange expression on her face. I wonder if her world just became more complicated. Before meeting these two, she’d thought all Pushers were evil, so everything was simple and clearcut. But now she’s met her so-called enemies, and they—especially my aunt—probably don’t fit Mira’s evil-villain stereotype.

Thomas leaves, ignoring Hillary’s mockery. As he moves a few feet away, he becomes difficult to see in the crowd. This place is much too packed to suit me.

“We have a lot of work to do,” I say, looking over the crowd.

“Then let’s start working instead of talking,” Mira says and approaches a buff-looking guy to the right of us.

“She just skipped those four people,” Hillary says, pointing at two elderly couples nearest us.

“Right, they’re the Russian Mafia, for sure,” I say, unable to resist a snarky tone. “I know you said we need to identify the mobsters in the crowd, particularly if any are trying to be stealthy, but I’m pretty sure they’re all going to be much younger than these four.”

This is the part of Hillary’s plan that found good use for Mira and Eugene. They’re supposed to help identify the gangsters in this crowd by Reading. I have my doubts about this being necessary, as I suspect mobsters won’t be trying for stealth. I bet we’ll find them hanging out together someplace. Still, since finding a use for Mira and Eugene meant they got to come along, I kept my mouth shut.

In any case, if any Russian gangsters are found in this way, Hillary will supply them with some special instructions. Then my aunt, Thomas, and I will instruct everyone else to leave the bridge as fast as humanly possible, but in an orderly fashion. This way, we’ll clear the place of any innocent bystanders.

“It’s ageism,” Hillary says stubbornly, interrupting my thought process. “You’re implying that people of a certain age are not capable of something that someone younger can do. And where do you draw the age line? Fifty? Sixty?”

“Hillary, we might end up spending a day in the Mind Dimension if we check every single one of these people,” I say, trying to placate her. “Let’s say, due to this profiling, you tell a mobster or two to evacuate the bridge by mistake. It won’t be the end of the world.”

“Fine,” she says and approaches the elderly couples.

Because Hillary can do her thing by a simple touch, Mira, Eugene, and I leave all the unlikely candidates for her.

I get to my job, which combines Guiding uninvolved people to evacuate with the work Mira and Eugene are doing—since, like them, I can Read.

I approach the first candidate, a muscular guy, with a scar on his cheek. He, in theory, could be one of Arkady’s men.

I touch his forearm and concentrate.



*



We worry about the white lies we put in our dating profile. Particularly those lies by omission.

Will she want to date a war vet? And if so, what about a vet who might actually have PTSD? Or do we have panic attacks? Would the difference even matter to her?

I disassociate with the conclusion that this one is not a mobster.

That established, I begin part two.

‘The date is going to happen in Battery Park instead of here. It’s a much longer walk and probably much less crowded. Text the date and change the venue. Walk off the bridge in an orderly fashion. Focus on not trampling anyone. When you begin to have the next PTSD episode or a panic attack, you’ll feel relaxed, the anxiety will leave your body, and you’ll begin to forget what caused this problem in the first place.’

Convinced the guy will leave the bridge and potentially have less of a PTSD problem, I exit his head.



*



One down, hundreds more to go. I take out a magic marker that I got from a pack Thomas had in his glove compartment, and put a big X on this guy’s head. This way, Hillary will know he’s been processed already. Eugene is putting a circle on his targets’ heads to signify that they’re clean and should be Guided to evacuate. Mira is using lipstick to draw her circles. In case it isn’t obvious, the forehead marking was my idea.

I look around and see a guy with a shaved head. He looks more like an athlete, but it’s feasible that he could be a mobster. He becomes my next target.

I quickly learn that the athlete is actually a plumber with a bodybuilding hobby. More importantly, though, he’s not a criminal of any kind.

I am out of his head and ready to draw my X when I get approached by Thomas.

“I checked about a quarter of the bridge and didn’t see anyone I recognize,” he says. “How are things going back here?”

“Just look at the foreheads. These two big guys are clean,” I say.

“Those four over there also,” Eugene says, overhearing our conversation.