The Thought Readers (Mind Dimensions #1)(37)

“Eugene, Mira is in trouble,” I tell him instead of hello.

“What? What do you mean?” He looks alarmed.

“Please let me explain. She was just here, in the Quiet. She said she was kidnapped. She said they’re after you.”

“Who’s after me?” He looks panicked now. “What are you talking about?”

“Come with me,” I say, figuring a picture is worth a thousand words. “I’ll tell you what she told me on the way down. You need to see them.”

“See whom?” he asks, but follows me anyway. “Can you just explain?”

“There are some kind of mobsters who came here for you. I’m taking you to them,” I say and pick up speed. “Mira said they’re the same people who killed your parents. That some Pusher controls them. She said you would be able to explain this to me.”

“And now they have her?” he asks from behind me, his voice low.

“Yes. She’s in a car, being taken to a place in Sunset Park. I have the address,” I say as we make our way to the four men on the stairs. “This is the problem,” I say, pointing at them.

Eugene approaches the men. There is an unrecognizable, almost frightening expression on his face.

Without asking any more questions, he approaches the man wearing a blue tracksuit and touches the guy’s temple. I decide to also indulge in Reading, since I’m waiting for Eugene anyway. I walk up to the guy in the leather jacket whose gun I didn’t need.



*



We’re driving to the address we were texted. We’re happy we called shotgun, as Boris, Alex, and Dmitri are still bitching about having to share the backseat. Alex, who sits in the middle, apparently spreads his knees too wide for the others’ comfort.

Haste was of the essence when we got the call, so we had to leave the restaurant, bill unpaid and food unfinished, and get into Sergey’s car. Top priority and all that.

“Wait here,” we tell Sergey—the driver—in Russian. I, Darren, understand this again, though the words sound foreign in my mind.

Next, we hand Sergey our phone with a picture of the target. If the target happens to waltz into the building behind us, Sergey is supposed to text us immediately.

I, Darren, am able to feel a more pronounced mental distance between myself and my host, whose name is Big Boris. I’m less lost in the experience, and I’m glad about that. I guess I’m getting better at this Reading business. His mind seems less of a mystery to me with this little bit of extra distance.

Encouraged, I try to focus on how he—or I, or we—got the idea to come to this building. Specifically, I’m looking for more details on this phone call he/I/we were recalling. All of a sudden, I’m there.

We’re at the restaurant eating lamb shish kebab when we get a phone call. We look at the phone and see the number we memorized long ago, and the name ‘Arkady’ on the screen. A piece of meat gets stuck in our throat. It’s the boss, and he always makes us nervous.

“Go to the location I’m going to text you immediately,” he says, and we promptly agree.

We’re not done with the meal, but we don’t voice our annoyance to the boss. Not into the phone, and not even to the crew as we tell them what’s what. We wouldn’t dream of crossing Arkady; he’s the craziest, toughest, most ruthless son of a bitch we’ve ever met.

I, Darren, repeat Arkady’s phone number to myself over and over, so I can remember it in case it comes in handy later. Luckily, I’m very good when it comes to remembering numbers. Still, I need to write this down, along with the address where Mira is being kept, as soon as I can.

I realize that I managed to jump around Big Boris’s mind without the usual feeling of lightness. Though with hindsight, I think I did feel light; it was simply on a subconscious level, like I was on a strange mental autopilot. I’ll need to play around with this some more, this jumping about in people’s minds, but now is not the time. I need to jump out of this mind and get Eugene out of this mess.



*



When I’m out of Big Boris’s head, Eugene is staring at me.

“I couldn’t find any confirmation that these men are the same people who killed Mom and Dad,” he says.

“That’s not the thing to focus on right now,” I respond. “We have to get you out of this first. Then we have to rescue Mira.”

“Sorry, you’re right.” He shakes his head like he’s disgusted with himself. “There’s no time to think about revenge—not that I’m in a position to do anything to them right now anyway. I’m not good at thinking under pressure.”

“It’s fine. But we have to be careful,” I tell him, remembering what I just saw. “Their driver knows what you look like.”

“I got that much out of Boris,” he says, pointing at the short stocky guy in the tracksuit whose mind Eugene just Read. I internally chuckle, realizing the reason Big Boris needs the ‘Big’ distinction. He’s the second Boris in the group.

“Walk with me,” I say. “I want to show you where I’m parked.”

As I lead Eugene to my car, I ask, “Is there a back exit from your building somewhere?”

“Not that I know of,” he says, scratching his head as we stop in front of my parked car.