Kiss or Kill

Sleep had proved elusive at first with her guest in the next room stirring restlessly as he tried to get comfortable. But eventually Renee slept for exactly four hours and woke refreshed. Her internal clock operated without fail, always had.

Her skill at remote viewing had been amazingly productive this morning, too, she thought with satisfaction. Good to know that wasn’t going to suffer because of the distraction sleeping on her sofa. She had worried it might, since Mark had virtually waylaid her subconscious that morning long ago when she visualized him taking a shower. Her particular and unusual ability had secured her the job with the team of agents who had talents similar to hers and she would hate for anything—or anyone—to interfere with it.

She loved what she did. Usually. In any case, the remote viewing she did was not exactly hardship duty. She liked putting it to good use and it didn’t sap her energy, give her headaches or other bad effects. Unless she counted the uncomfortable feelings of arousal the vision of Mark had caused her back in the training course. No more of those, she promised herself.

Immediately on waking, she always focused her mind on Deborah Martine. This morning the woman appeared to be in her apartment. Or town house. The exact location or layout was never clear, but it was definitely Deborah’s abode.

Renee had “been there” before, a number of times, in different rooms. Three images presented this morning, an unusual occurrence: Deborah, Sonnegut and another man, one Renee had never viewed before. This was the only person outside the current group that Deborah had met with, at least in the early morning.

Renee sat up and grabbed her sketchbook, quickly recording the details she had gleaned before they escaped her. The visions came easily most of the time and played out like disjointed videos without sound. Some were clear as day. Some were hazy, nearly indistinct and colorless, a bit like half-remembered dreams. This morning’s had proved exceptionally good. She wielded her pencil with confidence.

Architectural details of the building’s exterior came first. She needed to locate the building and these new image fragments would surely help. Double arches, done in stone. Old and in need of sandblasting. Hmm. Not that unique in the older section of the city, but that in itself was a clue. At least it narrowed the search area. When she exhausted those particular clues, she turned to the new face on the block, the interesting stranger.

Tall, almost as tall as Sonnegut. Dark, handsome, deadly. She wondered if this man could be the one Mark was seeking. Pencil flying, Renee laid down the gesture drawing that would serve as a guide for a more detailed delineation of features.

Trying hard to recapture every nuance of the vision, she closed her eyes again, seeking clearer memory of her impressions.

“So you lied.”

Renee jumped, her pencil and pad flying out of her hands as she dived for her weapon.

A large hand clamped around her arm. She checked her response, which would have broken at least his thumb, maybe his wrist. “What are you doing in here?” she demanded.

“Better question. Why did you lie about having seen Trip?”

“I didn’t see him until just now!” she exclaimed, realizing too late what an explanation of that would entail. And how unlikely it would be that he’d believe it. Still, there was no way around it unless she lied again.

He released her, crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her through narrowed eyes. “Just now,” he repeated, glancing around her messy bedroom. “Hiding in your wardrobe, I suppose?”

Renee shook her head and grimaced, seeking a way to begin that wouldn’t make her sound certifiably nuts. She inhaled deeply and began to explain. “Do you remember the studies undertaken in the seventies? The ones that explored the…inexplicable? Project STAR?”

“Psychic phenomena,” he said, tongue in cheek. “Discontinued after your military intel community computed how little bang they were getting for the enormous number of bucks they were shoving down a rat hole?”

Renee took another deep breath and tried again. “No, it’s ongoing. They turned it over to…another agency that had fewer constraints and better funding.” She added a smile. “I was…am one of their subjects.”

He brushed a hand over his lower face and shook his head. “You’re telling me that you’re psychic.”

“Not precisely. I’m an RV.”

“Ah. A recreational vehicle. This gets better and better. Makes me want to kick your bloody tires.”

Renee laughed. “No, a remote viewer. I…see things. Places. People.”

He waved a hand at the sketchbook lying on the floor. “John Trip.”

“That’s really him? I thought it might be. He’s at Deborah’s apartment this morning.”

“Really. You’ve been wafting through the ether. What a convenient trick that must be.”

She closed her eyes for a second. “Look, I know this must be hard for you to believe, but…”

“I want an address,” he stated. “A real address where I can find him, Leblanc. And cut the bull.”

Renee bit her lip and got up off the edge of the bed. She was getting a crick in her neck from looking up at him. Also, she didn’t want to feel as open to attack when she answered. “Look, I’m sorry, I can’t give you the address. Not yet anyway. I don’t know where she lives.”