Brain Storm - Cat Gilbert (top 10 inspirational books .txt) 📗

a pointed look, which he thankfully interpreted correctly. I was pretty sure that if Hughes was tracking the Clients, he’d have bugged the place too, especially the dining room. I needed to watch what I said, but there were some questions that I was sure would alert him more by their absence than by me actually asking them. Besides, they were things I was going to need to know for later.

“It varies,” he replied slowly, the reality of the situation dawning on him. “but it’s never very many. A handful at most. The majority of people with the potential for special abilities never even realize they have them. It’s the rare individual that senses there’s something more going on. Rarer still to find someone like you.”

“Lucky me,” I said, not feeling lucky at all. I watched as the waitress sat a huge mug down in front of me and began pouring the coffee. Maybe a shot of caffeine would help.“How do you find the Clients?”

“Believe it or not, we find most of them through the internet. Odd things start happening, things that can’t be explained. People notice, and they start looking for answers. We monitor a variety of websites and forums. We even host a number of sites, forums, and blogs. Social media is a great resource for finding people. As you well know, as an investigator, there’s not much people won’t chat about if someone will listen. We listen and once in a while, we find someone that interests us.”

I reached out and grabbed the waitress’s arm as she turned to go, indicating that she should leave the pot on the table, fairly sure I was going to need more coffee. A lot more. Connors was right. I’d searched the internet for answers, but not until after the incident with Marcus and according to Mac, he’d been in place long before that. Connors might get most of his Clients via the internet, but that’s not how he found me.

“What about the Watchers? Sean said there were others like him, but surely there aren’t that many. When do they come into play?”

“That’s something entirely different,” Connors explained, watching me closely. “Not everyone has a Watcher. They’re only used when there is someone that we feel certain has abilities, but they haven’t come out yet.”

Someone we feel certain has abilities? How would they know? What was going on here? Mac may have been in place for seven years, but they’d put him there. They’d been watching me long before that. Gee, that wasn’t ominous at all. I looked at Connors, the question in my eyes.

“The Agency has been around for a long time,” he said, fiddling with his cup. “Not in its current form, of course, but the idea, the concept, has existed for decades. I’ve only been the Director here for five years, and you were already on the radar when I arrived. According to your file, both your parents were gifted with abilities. I have to assume that somehow they were involved, at least for a time, with the Agency, but I haven’t been able to find any information on them other than that mention in your file. A child from two gifted people was bound to pique their interest. I’d think it would be safe to say that they’ve had eyes on you since birth.”

Shell-shocked, I think they call it. I honestly couldn’t think, and I certainly couldn’t talk. My brain refused to accept what Connors was telling me. Surely that couldn’t be right. This couldn’t have started with my parents and been going on for decades. They’ve had eyes on you since birth. His words swept, unbidden through my brain, time after time, and I was helpless to stop them.

Suddenly a jolt went up my arm, and I gasped, looking down to see Connors holding my hand. He’d shocked me. How he’d done it, I had no idea, but it had gotten my attention. I glanced up and saw him nod in warning towards the security camera in the corner. That’s right. Hughes was watching. I needed to hold it together.

“When your Aunt died,” Connors continued, as if nothing had happened, “they instructed me to assign you a Watcher. We have found that trauma is often the spark that ignites a person’s ability. A chemical change in the body perhaps, due to stress. Or maybe the brain is distracted enough to allow the ability to gain a foothold. Why, is something we’re still looking into, but the point is, it was felt that it would be better to keep a closer eye on you after that, so Sean was sent in.”

“Okay,” I mumbled, trying to remember what we’d been talking about when Connors had dropped his bombshell. “What’s next? What happens after you find these people?”

“We invite them to the Agency. Offer them testing, the opportunity to participate in experiments and yes, research, but it’s all on a volunteer basis. No one is forced to do anything they don’t want to. The truth is, most of them are as intent on finding out what’s happening as we are. They want answers too, and we try to provide those, along with confirmation that they aren’t losing their minds and imagining things. They are instead, something special and unique, and we treat them that way. They stay here until they feel comfortable, and then they leave us.”

“And you just let them go? It is a government facility. I would think they would be somewhat concerned about the Clients being out there just walking around.”

“Yes, well. They do require we keep tabs on them.” He stopped to refill my coffee mug, which I’d already drained. “You do know that all that caffeine isn’t good for you?”

“Well, I’m just not as peppy as you are,” I said, a look of innocence plastered on my face. “I need it.”

“ Ah. Touché, my dear. But you might want to pace yourself a bit.”

“You were saying... about security?” I decided to ignore his warning and concentrated on adding just the right amount of cream instead.

“Yes. We managed to convince the government that the sight of armed soldiers roaming the grounds would be off-putting. Hughes was their answer. Private security, but ex-military, so they understand the chain of command. I’m the Director, but the Agency is funded by the government, and I answer to them. They keep close tabs on what we do here, but we don’t have much interference in our operations. Probably because we don’t have much success. At least not the type of success they’re looking for.”

The waitress arrived with our food, giving me time to get my bearings. The fact that Connors kept referring to the government as them wasn’t lost on me. Whether it was intentional and he was trying to tell me he wasn’t part of it or he subconsciously didn’t agree with what was going on, I had no way of knowing, but he was definitely disassociating himself from what was happening at the Agency.

Connors cleared a space on the table in front of him as the waitress deposited his plate. He had ordered a muffin. It was big, and that was about all I could say for it. It looked suspiciously tasteless and dry. I sincerely hoped mine was better than that, and it was. The waitress sat a huge platter of scrambled eggs, bacon, and hash browns down in front of me. I had ordered my toast buttered and uncut. It was homemade, full of nuts and seeds and smelled like heaven on earth. I grabbed up a piece and started piling my food onto it. “Go on.” I prodded Connors, when he just sat there watching me. “What is it they’re looking for?”

“Proof,” he said, shaking his head. “Something tangible that they can use to justify the millions of dollars they’ve poured into the Agency. It’s what they want, and we haven’t been able to give it to them. It’s very difficult to substantiate these abilities in a scientific manner..”

“Don’t you mean impossible?” I finished loading my toast and grabbed the other piece to top it off. “There have been others that have tried and failed. You’re not the first.”

“No. I think it’s entirely possible. It just hasn’t happened yet.”

“Why do you think that is?” I asked, looking around for something to wrap my sandwich in. Connors caught on and reached over to the next table, snagging a large napkin and handing it to me.

“That is the question, now, isn’t it? The obvious answer is that they don’t really exist, but we both know that’s not the case, don’t we?” I finished wrapping my sandwich up and topped up my coffee.

“Yes, we do,” I agreed. “ So why can’t you prove it?” I stood up, and he joined me, grabbing an extra napkin, his muffin, and his coffee. I snatched a piece of egg from the plate that had escaped and popped it into my mouth before grabbing my cup and heading outside.

“I think, Taylor, that it’s because it is more than science. It can’t be replicated and authenticated in a lab because there’s no reason to do it other than to prove it can be done and that’s not a good enough reason. There has to be emotion involved. There has to be need.” He got to the door, pushed it open with his foot and held it, waiting for me to pass.

“If that’s true, your work here is kind of precarious, isn’t it?” I headed toward a bench and then changed my mind, deciding that Hughes had probably bugged it simply because it was the only place to sit down. I zeroed in on a nice grassy area instead. “They can pull the funding out from under you anytime they want.”

“Yes they can, and I seem to spend most of my time giving them reasons not to do just that. The fact is, they know it exists. They can’t deny it, just because we haven’t been able to prove it in a lab, and they aren’t ready to give up yet. They have too much riding on it. To tell you the truth, it’s frustrating and if that was what it was all about, I’d have thrown in the towel long ago, but it isn’t. Testing and experiments are only a small part of what we do here. People have to know how to handle it, and we can help them with that. Granted, it’s mainly lectures and ‘what if’ scenarios, but at the very least, they know they’re not crazy, and they know they’re not alone. That’s why I’m here, Taylor. To help those people. To help you.”

Connors wanted to help me. Help me how?