The Hunt for Pierre Jnr Read Free Page B

nutrition.
     
    ‘Tell me more about yourself. What do you do as a psi? To make a living, I mean.’
     
    ‘I work as an investigator mostly.’
     
    ‘Do your clients know what you are?’
     
    Pete declined to answer. Of course they didn’t; he wasn’t that kind of person. It was well known that only Advocates and casinos made overt use of telepaths, siphoning the thoughts of others for their own exploitation. ‘I’m not what you think.’
     
    ‘Well, you would know.’
     
    Pete tried again to feel the other man’s thoughts, but he was still foggy. The Colonel looked friendly but presented himself as standoffish, and everything he said seemed tinged with something else.  Humour? Sadism?  Pete was so reliant on being able to probe people’s minds, body language and tone were almost a mystery to him.
     
    ‘Tell me, Mister Lazarus. What is it about this Pierre Jnr that has made you change sides?’
     
    ‘There are no “sides”, Colonel. Only the non-psis have created this opposition.’
     
    ‘If you say so, my boy.’
     
    ‘I do.’ He bristled at the amusement the old man hid beneath his moustache, but Pete hadn’t come here to talk about the psi problem. He wouldn’t let that distract him.
     
    ‘You were saying ...?’ Pinter motioned with the chunk of bread he was using to garner the last of the goo from his plate.
     
    ‘Colonel, do you realise what Pierre Jnr has become to a lot of psis?’
     
    ‘I’m sure I don’t.’
     
    ‘What exactly are your qualifications? Why did they choose you?’
     
    ‘Until last night I was retired. At the moment, I am the limit of what Services will risk on your offer.’
     
    ‘How does that make you feel?’
     
    ‘Son, when you’re in Services you serve. This isn’t the worst tack I’ve been assigned.’ Pete could tell when the Colonel was being remotely instructed; his ripostes trickled out more slowly to cover his distraction. ‘Go on. Tell me more about Pierre and the psis.’
     
    ‘Psis are an oppressed people — you’d agree with that, wouldn’t you? It’s illegal to exercise our capabilities. Suspect children are sent to camps to make sure they are “clean”.’
     
    ‘Facts,’ the Colonel agreed, paying more interest to a cigar he had taken from his pocket.
     
    ‘Well, when a psychic of Pierre’s capabilities escapes the authorities and goes into hiding, what do you think happens? He’s become mythic. The psis are looking for a leader and he’s the prime candidate.’
     
    ‘So why are you here and not with him?’
     
    ‘Because he’s not a saviour. He’s just a boy who uses people like toys. He doesn’t know what he’s doing. I’ve seen what he does to people.’
     
    ‘What do you mean? You’ve had contact with him?’ The Colonel’s rushed question came straight from the hierarchy.
     
    ‘Not directly. I’ve just seen the results.’
     
    ‘Explain.’
     
    ‘It may be hard for a norm to understand, and I myself might have missed it if I wasn’t already familiar with her mind before, but somehow she was ... rewired. She didn’t think in the same way, and parts of her memory had been deleted.’
     
    ‘You use the machine analogy then?’
     
    ‘Sometimes. Sometimes it is like that. Each person has recognisable patterns you can learn. Consciousness is sometimes like a point, a moving beacon. Sometimes there are multiple points of consciousness or it can be like electricity in clouds. I knew this person well, and she was changed. It was a lobotomy, Colonel.’
     
    ‘Hmm. So who was this person?’
     
    ‘My sister.’
     
    ‘Your sister ... There is no record of a sister in your files.’
     
    ‘No. I had the information redacted. She only died two months ago.’
     
    ‘She was like you?’
     
    ‘In some ways, yes.’
     
    ‘How did you manage to erase all record of her?’
     
    ‘There are ways.’
     
    ‘Do we have any way of verifying your claim?’
     
    ‘I hope not,’ Pete