The Speed of Sound (Speed of Sound Thrillers #1)(19)
She mimicked his BUZZER sound, which immediately made him stop writing and look up with surprise.
“Why did you do that?”
“It’s the sound you make when you don’t think someone is telling the truth, isn’t it?”
“Yes, but I’m not supposed to. Dr. Fenton said so.”
She paused for effect. “I think it’s okay.”
He seemed genuinely surprised. “You do?”
“Each of us has some unique way of communicating that is part of who we are. Me, sometimes I just like to sit next to someone and not say a word. You, sometimes you buzz when you think someone isn’t telling the truth.”
Eddie nodded, glad that he had something in common with his new doctor. At least, she said he did. “Why did you think I wasn’t telling the truth?”
“It’s not that I thought you were being dishonest. What I think is that you gave me the answer you thought would make me stop asking you questions about what happened.”
He finished making his notation in the notebook, and immediately felt uncomfortable.
Studying him closely, she decided she had pushed him far enough for an initial foray. “If you don’t want to talk about it, Eddie, that’s okay. But whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m ready to listen. I like listening to you.”
He watched her as she moved toward the door. “Skylar, you are different from everyone else.” His voice was monotone. Without emotion. But then he smiled ever so briefly. It was more of a flicker, really, but, just for a moment, it was there. And it told Skylar everything she needed to know.
“So are you, Eddie.” And with that, she left. If there was a breakthrough lurking somewhere within Eddie, she was now certain she would be able to bring it out of him.
CHAPTER 16
Russell Senate Building, Washington, DC, May 22, 3:53 p.m.
Dr. Fenton was reminded of Eddie’s influence on him every time he went to Washington, DC, because the first thing he would notice walking the hallways of any government building was their echoes. They were louder than those in Harmony House, and this was for two reasons. One was sheer size. These corridors were practically canyons. The second reason was the hardness of the surfaces. The glistening floors were polished every night as if our democracy depended on it.
The old man still had a few fans left within the exclusive club of intelligence research, but most had left public service during previous administrations. Bush Sr. had been a fan because he was not about to mess with a Reagan legacy, and Clinton loved people he considered almost as smart as he was. George W. knew that Fenton still had his father’s ear, so the doctor’s position was secure during his terms, and Obama’s wife, Michelle, had a cousin on the high-functioning end of the spectrum, so given the failures of the Affordable Care Act for families raising autistic children, continuing to fund Harmony House was the least he could do. But now was a different deal. The new president was too much of a wild card. Non-Defense budgets were being obliterated. Members of the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence had been instructed to take hard looks at every program, particularly fringe projects like Harmony House.
Waiting to be ushered in, Dr. Fenton sat on a black bench, the same bench he sat on every time he made this godforsaken trek. He even sat in exactly the same spot on the bench, because when you come down to it, every human being is a creature of habit, not just those with autism. And therein lay one of the good doctor’s ultimate fascinations with the condition: people who had it weren’t so different from the rest of the world. They were merely an extension of what all humans were, and were capable of. It was the same reason people had always been fascinated by spoon benders, mind readers, seers, and others with unusual abilities. The same potential lay within all of us.
Researchers, Fenton reflected, had spent years studying every aspect of the exceptionally gifted to learn what triggered universal potential, awakening it from something dormant to an active ability that could be revealed, heightened, honed, and put into useful practice. How did such gifts get unleashed? Answering this question was Fenton’s mission. Ultimately, the key to releasing the genius in all humanity was the Holy Grail of Harmony House. Something about autism allowed some people to think in ways that others could not. While no one might want the limitations, every human being on the planet could benefit from the discovery of that genius mechanism.
Dr. Marcus Fenton was ushered into the mahogany-paneled room where the fifteen-member committee was already seated around a large conference table. Fenton made sure to glance at each of them before taking a seat. It was as if he was lining them up in his sights, should this not go as planned.
The committee was chaired by Senator Corbin Davis, who was twenty years younger than Fenton. Marcus had disliked him on the spot when they first met, eight years ago. How this pretty boy had maneuvered himself into chairing the committee was beyond Fenton, but at least he wasn’t president. Not yet, anyway.
“I have a great deal of respect and admiration for you, Dr. Fenton,” the Indiana senator lied. “The same can be said for most everyone in this room.” He glanced around the committee, confirming his majority support. There were only three dissenters. His new benefactors at the American Heritage Foundation had asked him to give Fenton a pass on the budget cuts, and Corbin Davis had secured one, but not without much heated discussion. The camera-ready senator certainly wasn’t about to fail this first little test of theirs. “While funds are increasingly tight these days, you can rest assured that our faith in your mission has not wavered. Your funding has been approved.”