The Thought Readers (Mind Dimensions #1)(49)
“Hold up. Darren, there’s something you should know,” Caleb says, turning toward me. “I’ve known Mira for a while. She’s a good kid. I was going to offer to help Eugene anyway—especially since I knew Julia would do something reckless, and Jacob would hold me liable for her actions regardless of my involvement. Not to mention, I like a good skirmish.”
“So I didn’t need to agree to this deal?” I say dryly, and he shakes his head.
“Nope. You didn’t. But a deal is a deal.” He winks at me. “I’m really looking forward to all this.”
*
Leaving the community with apparent dejection, Eugene and I make our way to Emmons Avenue, to the exact place where we caused the last car crash. There are still bits of plastic and glass on the asphalt, but the broken cars have apparently been towed.
I’m deep in thought, trying to understand how I got involved in all this craziness.
“Darren, about taking Caleb into someone’s mind,” Eugene breaks the silence.
“He already told me; you see into each other’s minds,” I tell him.
“Oh, good. I’m surprised Caleb was so honest,” Eugene says with relief. “Julia should’ve warned you. She can be kind of ruthless when it comes to getting what she wants.”
Before I can reply, we’re interrupted by a loud car honk. It’s a Hummer—occupied by Caleb and Julia.
Of course Caleb drives a Hummer, I think as I get in.
“Give me that address, Darren. We have a damsel in distress,” Caleb says.
I give him the address, and he sets his GPS to the location. With a roar, the Hummer is off, moving through the streets of Brooklyn like a tank.
Chapter 21
We park in a Costco lot in Sunset Park.
According to Google Maps, the place where they’re keeping Mira is an industrial warehouse. What these guys are doing so far from Brighton Beach, none of us have a clue. Brighton Beach is where the Russian Mafia is supposed to be headquartered, according to Eugene. I hope that this actually plays to our advantage. If they do call for reinforcements, it’s a twenty-minute drive without traffic, according to Julia’s phone. Of course, that assumes the reinforcements are on Brighton Beach, and—this is a big one—that they’re going to need reinforcements against the four of us.
Caleb jumps out of his seat and starts rummaging through the trunk of the Hummer.
“Are we shopping for supplies?” I ask, looking in the direction of the huge store. I’m only half-joking.
“I have everything I need,” Julia says, hanging a messenger bag over her shoulder.
“They don’t sell the type of stuff I need in Costco,” Caleb responds, putting what has to be a rifle in a special carry case over his shoulder. “At least not in New York.”
He puts on a vest with special pockets and straps the huge knife I saw previously to it, along with a couple of handguns.
“This is for you,” Caleb says, handing me a gun.
The seriousness of the situation hits me again. We’re going against armed criminals. Just the four of us. A scientist, a girl whose toughness I haven’t fully determined yet, and, let’s face it, a financial analyst. Caleb is the only person even remotely qualified for this rescue. Despite his unshakable confidence, the odds don’t seem right to me.
Not to mention, the people holding Mira have an ace up their sleeve: a hostage.
All we have is our unusual skill set.
Caleb clearly has a plan, though. He leads us to an abandoned warehouse located a short distance from where we parked.
We walk up to the top floor, and Caleb methodically unzips his gun case and starts setting up. The gun is huge and looks very professional—complete with scope and silencer. I wonder if this is what he used to gun down our pursuers earlier. Eugene and Julia, who have been silent for some time, exchange impressed looks. Eugene seems grimly determined, while Julia looks thoughtful.
I gaze around the room we’ve found ourselves in. It’s dusty and dark, despite large, floor-to-ceiling windows—probably because said windows are yellow and covered with grime. Caleb opens one of those windows, lies down on the floor, and aims the huge gun at the industrial warehouse across the street. Then he says curtly, “All right, Darren, pull us in.”
I leverage my natural anxiety over what’s about to happen and quickly phase into the Quiet. Then I touch everyone in turn, pulling them in.
Once we’re all in, we walk down the stairs and cross the road. This part of Brooklyn is so abandoned that being in the Quiet doesn’t seem like much of a change. At least not until we cross the road, and Caleb breaks the door with a series of kicks. Even in a scarcely populated area like this, such bold breaking and entering might’ve gotten us noticed and reported, if it took place in the real world.
“You know, I could’ve picked that lock,” Julia says, looking at what’s left of the door on the ground.
“You’ll get your chance,” Caleb tells her as he walks into the building.
We walk through the door and find ourselves in a large open space. There are a bunch of guys frozen in the process of walking around. They all have guns. Caleb walks between the guys and the windows, looking intently at the building we came from.
His plan is beginning to dawn on me.