The Thought Readers (Mind Dimensions #1)(50)

He’s figuring out how to shoot them from our location across the street. He’s triangulating his shots; as soon as we phase back out, he’ll shoot.

I’ll have to remember to never piss off Caleb.

“Where’s Mira?” Eugene asks after examining the hangar.

“Try Reading them,” Caleb says without turning. “We need to figure that out, because once we get back to the real world, the information will be lost.”

Right. Because you can’t Read dead men. A chill skitters across my spine. Caleb is too calm about it. Too poised. His coldness makes me uneasy. I wonder if I, personally, am capable of killing. Even if it’s an enemy. Even in self-defense. I don’t know, and I hope I don’t find out today.

For my Reading target, I choose a big guy near one of the columns. He must be on steroids or growth hormones—or both. Though he’s my height, he must be at least two hundred pounds heavier than I am. Being that he’s Russian, I wonder if he’s trying to look like a bear. He’s closer to a gorilla. I catch myself hoping that Caleb doesn’t miss this specific dude with his rifle. We wouldn’t want to face him in anything but a gunfight.

Putting my hand on his gigantic forehead, I jump in a few hours ago.



*



We see Mira playing cards with Vasiliy. There is one other guy in the room with her.

“Na huy ti s ney igrayesh?” we say. As usual I, Darren, marvel at understanding this. He, Lenya, was asking a question about why his idiot bro is playing cards with the hostage. Playing cards with a girl who is a renowned card cheat.

He, Lenya, is picturing what he would do with the hostage. We see images of Mira tied up and abused. I, Darren, distance myself almost instantly and nearly puke—though this is not easy to do in my current position. Can you vomit mentally? This almost makes me want to jump out of this *’s head, it’s so sick. I also feel an instinctive need to protect Mira from ever coming near this guy. I feel dirty. The best way to describe the experience is it’s as if I’m dreaming of being this scumbag. I am rethinking my earlier squeamishness toward killing.

I shouldn’t jump out, however, as he’s about to give me key information. I try to focus on what the guy’s body is experiencing—an ache from yesterday’s workout, soreness in the knuckles from punching someone, anything except those sick rape fantasies. This approach is flawed, though, because focusing on his body makes me realize he’s getting turned on from these disgusting thoughts. Thankfully, before I’m forced out of his head from sheer horror, he refocuses on what he should be doing. And that is locking the door in front of him from the outside.

We lock the door, mentally praising Tolik, who is also in the room. At least he has his gun next to him, and isn’t letting the bitch distract him. He also forbade untying her legs from the chair. Tolik will keep Vasiliy in check.

We walk out into the corridor and through a maze of concrete hallways until we reach the stairs. Then we go down to the main hall, where the rest of the guards are.

I, Darren, now know where Mira is being held.

I almost jump out, but I decide to try to go even deeper. I want to know who told this guy to lock the door from the outside. That’s very specific. Whoever came up with that could’ve been trying to limit Mira’s range of motion in the Quiet—and thus might be the Pusher f*ck behind all this.

I jump further.

We’re sitting in a banya. I, Darren, learn that a banya is a Russian spa—a bit like a sauna, but much hotter. Given how we, I mean he, feels when in there, it sounds like something I should check out.

I go further still, jumping around scenes from this goon’s life.

Aha.

“Keep those doors closed,” Piotr says. We look at Piotr and wonder who the f*ck he is to be giving orders around here.

I, Darren, realize with disappointment that Piotr is another Russian I saw in the very room we’re in now.

I jump out of Lenya’s head.



*



“Darren, let’s go,” Caleb says as soon as I’m conscious of being myself again.

“Give me a minute,” I respond. “I need to check that guy.” I point at Piotr, sitting at a desk.

“Hurry,” Caleb says.

I walk up to the guy. He looks a tiny bit more intelligent than the one whose mind I was in a moment ago. I place my hand on his forehead.



*



I’m in, but I don’t know where to start. Intuitively I jump around scenes from this guy’s life until I find it.

We’re watching boxing on TV when another mind enters. Time stops; now there are more of us in his head.

I understand that the guy himself wouldn’t have felt the Pusher enter his mind. Apparently people don’t consciously notice either us or them when we do our thing. But I am very much aware of it. It’s like a ghostly presence. And as I keep Reading, the Pusher begins to give instructions.

‘Instructions’ is a poor word for it, but I can’t think of a better one. In reality, they’re almost like experiences the Pusher inserts into the guy’s mind. Like the reverse of Reading. The Pusher inserts experiences and reactions to them. How this will ensure the guy does what he’s supposed to, I don’t know, but it must work. To me, it feels a little bit like a very detailed story of what Piotr should experience when the time is right.