The Thought Readers (Mind Dimensions #1)(39)

Since I’m here anyway, I walk up to check on the mobsters. They’re between the fourth and fifth floors. Satisfied, I go back to the car to phase out again.

Another few seconds, and I can’t take it anymore. I phase into the Quiet yet again. Eugene is walking to the door in the lobby. His hoodie is pulled up all the way. His hunching is terribly fake, but as long as he doesn’t look like himself, we should be out of this mess in a few seconds. I go back to the car and get out of the Quiet again, only to return a few seconds later.

Eugene is walking toward me. Sergey, the driver, is looking at him with too much concentration. Oh, no. I walk up to the car and touch Sergey’s temple.



*



We’re looking at a strange guy who just left the building in a very suspicious manner. He’s trying to hide his face, so we can’t see it, but we think he could be the target. Since we know we’re here on Arkady’s orders, we have to cover our ass. We take out our phone and text Big Boris about seeing something suspicious. Now it can’t be said that we f*cked up.



*



Done Reading the driver, I run back to the car and phase out. I swivel the steering wheel. My foot is on the gas. I shift the gear in the drive position. Then I phase into the Quiet again.

Eugene is a few steps away from the car. I walk up to him and touch his wrist. A moment later, another Eugene stands next to me, this one fully animated.

“I made it,” he says on a big exhale, like he’s been holding his breath this whole time.

“No. We’re far from out of this. Sergey, the driver, just recognized you.”

“Fuck. What do we do?”

“You’ll jump into the car, and as soon as you close the door, I’ll step on the gas. Buckle up as soon as you can—it might be a bumpy ride.”

“Thank you again, Darren,” he starts saying, and I wave dismissively.

“As I said before, thank me once we’re out of this.” Hurrying back to the car, I take a deep breath and phase out of the Quiet.

The next few actions happen in a blur. Eugene runs to the door and jumps into the car. As he closes the door, I stomp on the gas pedal, and we’re at the first intersection in seconds.

As we pass the next intersection, I realize that I have no idea where I’m going, but it doesn’t matter as long as it’s away from that building. On a whim, I decide to keep going straight, and pump the gas again.

I’m going fifty miles per hour when I see the next light turning red a few feet away.

I’m forced to phase into the Quiet. This time, it’s particularly eerie. I’ve never done this in a moving car before. The sounds of the engine, which was working overtime to get us moving faster, are gone. That’s strange enough, but what’s weirder is that the car itself is standing still. Everything in my brain tells me it should at least move a few extra feet according to the law of inertia, but it doesn’t. It’s as still as a rock.

I realize I should’ve done this phasing business at the last intersection. Or even the one before that. It’s too late now, though, so I might as well get on with it.

This gives me a chance to check for any pursuers. I walk out of the car and look inside. Through the front window, I see expressions of sheer horror on both my own and Eugene’s faces. I walk to Eugene’s side and reach into the window. Touching his neck makes Eugene’s Quiet incarnation show up in the back seat.

“Darren, what the f*ck are you doing? You can’t Split like this, in the middle of a car chase.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for starters, when you get back, you increase the chance that you’ll lose control of the car.”

“We’ll have to chance it—I’ll be careful,” I promise. “I had to do it because there was a red light at that intersection.”

“Shit,” Eugene says, following my gaze. Though here in the Quiet the light is actually dead, he doesn’t doubt my powers of observation. And I’m sure he finally understands: the red light means we’ll need to stop, and stopping is not a good idea when you’ve got a car full of very bad Russian dudes on your tail.

“Let’s split up,” I say. “I’ll check out this intersection, and you go back and check on our new Russian friends.”

“Okay,” he says, turning around and running back toward his building.

I walk more leisurely to the intersection. Eugene has more distance to cover, and I want to give him a head start.

When I’m standing under the traffic light, I turn left and observe the road.

The closest car is about half a block away. I walk toward it. It’s a small car, but that doesn’t fill me with confidence. Small or not, if it T-bones us, it will hurt.

I open the car door. The speedometer is unreadable—another example of defunct electronics in the Quiet.

I Read the driver. Through his eyes, I learn that he’s going thirty miles per hour. I also learn that he’s late and is about to speed up. It’s unclear what the final speed will be, but I believe he’s about to give a noticeable push on the gas.

I make some quick estimates and decide that this guy will prevent me from turning right or going forward. I’ll have to at least slow down at the intersection and make sure his car passes.

On the plus side, the car behind this one is a block away. Since I still have a little time while Eugene does his recon, I run to that car and learn its speed as well. It’s also going thirty, but its driver isn’t in a rush. He’s the type of safe driver who slows down a little before getting to an intersection—which is rare, but admirable.