Piercing the Veil (Harbingers Book 13) Read online

  I caught my breath, then tried to sound cool and unimpressed. “And that doesn’t interest you, stopping them?”

  “Nope.”

  “That’s it? Nope?’”

  “That’s right.”

  “And these other people,” I said, “what did you call them—our handlers?”

  “Yeah, the Watchers.”

  For the second time I caught my breath. Did he actually know their name?

  He continued. “Good guys, I suppose. But the odds are definitely not in their favor.”

  “You called them the Watchers.”

  He turned to me and cocked his head “Don’t tell me you didn’t know their name?”

  I said nothing.

  He broke out laughing. “Priceless, man. You’re working for an organization and you don’t even know who they are.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You didn’t have to.” He flashed me that grin and tapped his temple.

  I felt my ears growing hot. I looked back to the road.

  He continued. “One thing you can say about them though, they sure got the bucks. And not just for your plane tickets and hotels. These dudes, they got more money than you and I can imagine.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “How else would you explain San Diego? All those deaths, that building destroyed. And not a word of it in the press? Talk about hush money, or—” he shrugged again— “maybe they got their own mind games.”

  “You know about San Diego?”

  “Only what I’ve read off the first recruiter. Or the second. I forget.”

  “You’ve met them? Personally?”

  “The Watchers? Of course. Well, their representatives.” He looked back at me. “You haven’t?”

  Before I could answer he shook his head and chuckled again. “Well I guess that lets you know how important I am, at least compared to you guys.”

  I glanced at his nose, wondering if it needed more adjusting. Lucky for him, I was able to contain myself. I hoped he appreciated the effort.

  Chapter 4

  I’d barely entered the “lab” with the kid before a pretty, twenty-something in wire-rimmed glasses and a white stocking cap ran toward him. “Your nose!”

  “It’s nothing.”

  “But . . . it’s broken,” she said. “How—?”

  “It’s not broken,” he said scornfully. “Don’t you think I’d know if it’s broken?”

  Her eyes shot to me, then back to him. “How did it happen?”

  “Long story. Grab us some coffee, will you?”

  “But—”

  He brushed past her. “Coffee.”

  She hesitated.

  “Now.”

  “Sure thing.” She turned to leave.

  “Belinda takes hers black, no cream or sugar.” He threw me a look and grinned. “Right?”

  I didn’t bother to answer.

  The building was on Highway 15, north of Vegas, the middle of nowhere. Except for the occasional semi there were no other lights or signs of civilization. It wasn’t much to look at, more like a giant shed, one of those old Quonset huts the military used to use.

  But inside, things were a little different.

  “I’ve only got a couple minutes to spare,” he said, “but I can show you around.” Without waiting for an answer, he started the tour.

  “The place was used by the Army from the mid-seventies until about 1990. It was called the Dragon Stealth Program.” He gestured to a painting over the entrance we’d just walked through. “Look familiar?”

  I could only stare. The image was identical to the one I’d been sketching . . . and to the one tatted on his arm.

  “The boys and girls at Stanford Research Institute teamed up with Army Intelligence to experiment with remote viewing.”

  “Remote viewing?”

  “You know. Where you send your spirit out of your body to travel and spy on enemy instalations.”

  I frowned.

  “You never heard of it?”

  “Yeah, well . . . in a way.”

  He snickered. “Liar.”

  Course he was right, but I wasn’t going to let him know. Not with his attitude.

  “You guys really are amateurs, aren’t you?”

  I didn’t think it possible, but I was liking him even less. We walked across the worn linoleum floor to a heavy padded door, like they have in recording studios. He pulled it open and we stepped inside. Everything was gray. Gray carpet, gray walls, gray ceiling.

  “To cut out mental noise,” he said, answering the question I was thinking but hadn’t asked.

  The room was pretty small with a worn sofa against one wall. The other had a four-foot control panel with TV monitors, speakers, and readouts beneath an observation window.

  “This is where Stephie sits to monitor my vitals.”

  “Stephie?”

  He motioned to the other room where the girl had greeted us. “I could have anyone I want, but she’s pretty hung up on me so I figured why not give her a thrill.”

  “Lucky her.”

  “She keeps track of all the stuff when I bilocate.”

  “Bi . . . locate?”

  “When I leave my body and travel.”

  I tried not to scoff, but he saw my expression.

  “What? You don’t think I can do it?”

  Actually, with everything I’d seen these past few months I figured just about anything was possible. But no way was he going to know it.

  He continued, “Maybe you should ask your professor friend. Oh, wait, he’s not around any more, is he? Hmm, I wonder where he’s gone?”

  I bristled. “What do you know about the professor?”

  He just grinned that grin of his.

  “You know where he is?”

  “I only know he was reading up on Dragon Stealth before he disappeared.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He gave me another one of those, are-you-really-that-stupid? looks which made me want to give him another let-me-rearrange-your-face makeovers. I settled for grabbing his arm. “Do you think he was . . . could he have been messing with this kinda stuff?” He looked at my grip and I let go.

  Then, with a shrug, he answered. “I don’t know what he was doing. When I travel, my spirit leaves my body. As far as I can tell, your pal took the whole package with him.”

  I stood a moment, trying to drink it in.

  “C’mon.” He turned and I followed him out of the room.

  The girl appeared, all smiles. “Here’s your coffee.” She held out a tray with a couple mugs on it—along with packets of sugar, a spoon, and that girlie-flavored creamer stuff. I nodded a thanks and took a cup.

  Chad didn’t bother. He left his on the tray, so she had to hold it while he opened the packets, dumped them into his coffee, and poured in the creamer, talking all the while. “This next room here, it’s where all the action takes place. We’ve been working about nine months now and we’re already way past whatever those military goons were doing.”

  “We sure are,” Stephie agreed.

  He ignored her.

  “What about funding?” I asked. “Where are you getting the money?”

  “The casinos.” He finished stirring the coffee and finally scooped up his mug. “That’s what my little visit tonight was about.” He motioned me into the other room.

  I gave Stephie another nod of thanks but her eyes were too glued to Chad to notice.

  The second room was even smaller than the first. Same gray floor, wall, and ceiling. Two recliners, identical to the ones I’d been sketching, in the middle of the room. They were attached to a bunch of sensors and wires.

  Once again the kid grinned. “Look familiar? They’re ERV chairs.”

  “ER—”

  “Exended Remote Viewing.” He moved between them, patting their backs. “Like I said, this is where it all happens. Where I sit during the sessions.”

  “When you bilocate,” I said.

>   “Very good.”

  “Two chairs?”

  “They originally had two, but I only need one.”

  “And you’re messin’ with all this because—?”

  “Obviously, because it’s a doorway.”

  “Into . . .”

  “Higher dimensions.”

  The phrase didn’t surprise me. We’d been hearing a lot about them . . . and experiencing them. At least according to Littlefoot. Or was she talking about the Multiverse? I shook my head, musing at how I get the terminology mixed up.

  “Me, too,” he said. “Multiverse, higher dimensions. It can get confusing.” I stiffened. He was doing it again, reading my thoughts. “But it’ll all make sense when I finally get everything figured out.”

  “And you, all by yourself, you’re going to do that?”

  “Of course. But not if I’m standing around talking to you. So, if you’ll excuse me.” He turned back to Stephie. “Time to get the show going.”

  “On it.” She hurried away.

  “That’s it?” I said as he led me out of the room.

  “What’s it?”

  “I take you all the way out here for a thirty second tour?”

  “I said from the start I wasn’t interested in being recruited. I’ve got too much on the ball to be held back by rookies. Steph!”

  She poked her head around the corner. “Right here.”

  “Get Belinda a travel cup for the road.”

  “Will do.” She hurried off again.

  He gave me a wink. “Can’t give away all our dishware to strangers.”

  “Listen,” I kept my voice steady. “I’m not interested in recruiting you. I’m not even interested in being in the same room with you.”

  “Which is why you’re so angry at me for kicking you out.”

  “Who says I’m angry?”

  The kid smiled.

  “I’m not angry.”

  “You’re doing a pretty good immitation of it.”

  I started to answer, then caught myself.

  “Super,” he said. “Since you’re not angry, it’ll make goodbyes a lot easier. Steph—”

  “Coming.” She reappeared with an empty styrofoam cup.

  “Give our guest a hand with that,” he said.

  “Keep it.” I set down the mug, none too gently.

  “Suit yourself.” He turned and stepped back into the second room. “Let’s go, Steph. Don’t want to waste the entire night.”

  I headed for the exit, thinking, unbelievable.

  “Yeah,” he called from the other room. “I get that a lot. Stephie?”

  “Coming.”

  Chapter 5

  Ninety minutes later Cowboy was glued to the peep-hole in the door of our Preston Towers suite.

  “Do you see it?” I asked.

  “No ma’am, not yet.”

  “Good.”

  “Unless it’s out of view,” Andi said. She was wrapping a cold towel around my sprained ankle. “The convection of that lens is roughly 190 degrees, leaving 10-20 degrees for an object the size of Brenda’s description to hide from view.”

  “So it could still be out there?” Cowboy asked.

  She looked puzzled. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

  He grinned. “If you say so.”

  Andi pulled the towel tighter and I tried not to wince. “One thing’s for certain,” I said, “they know we’re here.”

  “Maybe they followed you from that fella’s laboratory, what was his name again?” Cowboy asked.

  “Chad.” I gritted my teeth against the pain. “Chad Thorton.”

  Forty minutes earlier, I’d parked the car a few blocks from the hotel and made my way up to the Strip. It was late, but with so many lights you’d swear it was day. Same with the number of people. Youngsters, oldsters, middle-agers. Most had a pretty good buzz going, and ’cept for the belligerent drunk or two, good times were had by all.

  Well, almost all.

  I didn’t see them ’til I entered our hotel and passed through the noisy casino. There were the blurry-eyed smokers playing slots, the studs and students playing tables, and the hostesses delivering drinks. But it was the working girls that tore at me. Youngsters with caked-on makeup trying to look like seasoned vets. Worn-out vets trying to look like youngsters—everyone laughing, joking and flirting . . . and filled with fear, hatred and self-loathing. Memories of another life poured in.

  I grabbed a key from the desk and quickly headed for the elevators. I got off on the nineteenth floor. That’s when something even more disturbing caught my attention.

  A blue metallic orb, about the size of a grapefruit, hovered at the end of the hall. It was exactly like the ones we ran into in Florida and later in LA. We never completely knew what they did, but we did know they belonged to the Gate.

  I steeled myself and moved down the hall, pretending not to notice as I headed for the room. I figured it either followed me from Chad Thorton’s lab, or someone at the desk had alerted it. Didn’t matter. The point was they knew we were here.

  I picked up my pace, passed the long line of rooms, including our own, until the stairway at the other end of the hallway came into view. That’s when I bolted for the exit. I threw the door open, stepped through, and tried pulling it shut. But no matter how hard I pulled, it took its sweet time closing. I gave up and raced down the stairs as fast as I could. Actually, too fast. When I rounded the landing I rolled my ankle, could actually hear something tear.

  I swallowed back the pain and made it to the next floor. I yanked open the door, but knew I couldn’t run down the hallway, so I flattened myself against the wall. Just like I figured, the orb shot through the doorway and past me. It flew down the hallway, searching, and I slipped back through the door just before it closed.

  I grabbed the railing, pulling myself up one step at a time. I got to the door of our hall, opened it, and limped towards Andi’s and my suite. Once I got inside, we called Cowboy. And now here we were, the three of us hiding inside, figuring our next move.

  “I say we go into that hallway and face the thing down like we did before,” Cowboy said. “Then hightail it out to that fella’s place and see what he’s up to.”

  “He’s got a point,” I said. “We’ve beat it before.”

  Andi, who’d had more history with the orbs than us, wasn’t so sure. “We were able to do that only with the professor’s help,” she said.

  Of course she was right. At least part right. Which was enough to get me thinking about the old guy again and how much I missed him . . . and wondering if this Chad Thorton had any clues where he might be.

  I shook my head at the thought. The last thing I wanted was to go back and put up with his arrogance again. Actually, the second-to-last thing. Facing that orb came in first.

  “Mind if I lay hands on it?”

  I looked up to see Cowboy staring down at my ankle.

  “Knock yourself out,” I said. I pulled off the towel. The thing was swollen pretty good. He stooped down and ever so gently wrapped those big paws of his around it. Then he closed his eyes and silently prayed.

  Me and Andi watched. More out of respect than any type of faith. Not that we hadn’t seen him heal stuff before, but neither of us were as fast at giving God the credit as he was.

  After thirty or so seconds, he pulled his hands away. The thing was just as swollen as before.

  “Does it feel any better?” he asked.

  I tried moving it and winced.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  “Not your fault,” I said. “Jesus must got better things to do.”

  Cowboy nodded, but you could see he wasn’t happy about it.

  Andi changed subjects. “All right,” she said, “this is the pattern I see.

  “The orbs are back, which means the Gate is involved and they know we’re here.”

  “Check,” Cowboy said.

  “This Chad person knows all about the professor?” she asked.

  “A
little,” I said.

  “Enough where he may be able to help?”

  I gave a reluctant nod.

  “And our sponsors, what did he call them?”

  “Watchers,” I said

  Cowboy frowned. “Kind of a weird name.”

  “Maybe,” Andi said. “But look how they’ve been keeping an eye on everything since we’ve started.”

  “Actually before,” I said.

  “And helpin’ us stop stuff,” Cowboy admitted.

  Andi continued, “So . . . our sponsors, these Watchers, have clearly sent us here and they’ve clearly been trying to recruit this man.”

  “So he says,” I said.

  Andi pushed back. “He knows too much to be making it up.”

  “Sometimes more than us,” Cowboy said.

  I hated it, but they were right.

  “So . . .”

  Cowboy finished her thought. “We gotta go out there and talk to him.”

  I groaned.

  Andi nodded.

  And Cowboy? He turned toward the closed door, preparing himself.

  Chapter 6

  The good news was there were no floating orbs. Not inside the hotel, not on the Strip. Fact, we got to the car without a single problem with them. But there was another . . .

  Since I couldn’t drive, Andi had already taken the back seat and Cowboy was helping me into the front. That’s when he looked back and asked, “You don’t by any chance know them fellas, do you?”

  I turned to look and swore. They were the same goons in sunglasses I’d run into before. And they looked just as friendly. “Get in,” I ordered. “Hurry.”

  “Looks like they wanna talk,” Cowboy said.

  “We gotta go. Now!”

  Maybe it was my tone. Maybe it was because they started running toward us. Either way, Cowboy figured it wasn’t a bad idea. He crossed to the driver’s side and fought to squeeze his giant body behind the wheel. The fact the front seat was broken and wouldn’t go back didn’t help.

  “Hurry!” I yelled. “These guys are serious.”

  He finally got in, fired up the ignition, and we shot backwards like a rocket.