BOOK 3: DISCLOSURE / CH. 7:LENS
THURSDAY, OCTOBER 5TH, 8AM
The observer walked slowly through the woods behind the Institute. He'd looked at the maps, done the geometry, and confirmed the general plausibility by walking past the Institute and looking in the right direction. He should be able to see the last bit of the Institute's pathway from up one of these trees. He'd seen one with a broken branch which looked a perfect candidate. He wasn't going to break any laws. He just needed to photograph someone who arrived at the Institute in the morning and left in the evening. That would be enough for his boss. Clients didn't stay that long normally. One staff member, confirmed by two pictures. Easy.
He found and climbed the tree and set up his portable birdwatching hide. He was just taking pictures of the birds. Nothing wrong with that. You needed a long lens to do that and a hide. He strapped the camera mount to the tree. Nice and stable, there shouldn't be any blur in his pictures.
He checked the view by eye. It looked good. Removing the lens cap, he adjusted the camera.
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No matter how well a lens is coated with anti-reflection layers, there's always something reflected back. Take a little flash of light, combine it with high quality optics, a sequence of overly detailed camera images and some clever software, hey presto a map of partially reflecting surfaces. There would be noise of course. Water droplets, the eyes of animals and birds. More software looked at the pictures and removed the explainable clutter. A candidate. Input from another camera confirmed the result. A laser interferometer pulsed a few times, measuring the shape of the surface. Axially symmetric, a smooth section of a sphere. Reconfirm the whole process. All in all, it took a couple of seconds.
“Alert!" the message came up to Sarah's screen. "Optical apparatus detected. Countermeasures active at level one.”
A light fired in his direction. Flash. That wasn't good. Flash. Was it just coincidence? Flash flash flash. It became a strobe. Surely he couldn't have been spotted so soon?
He blocked the lens with his hand. The strobe stopped after two seconds.
Not good at all. He put the lens cap back on and thought. Automatic system, fairly clearly. He'd be able to ignore the flashes if he used manual settings. But it had spotted his camera quickly. That meant that it was a pretty capable system, with a dazzle laser, almost certainly. He might be able to get a shot if he was really quick. He'd have to use his unaided eyes and then uncover the lens and take the shot very quickly. It wasn't going to work. Maybe he'd do better to try and hang around the entrance, with no camera. He dismounted the camera and collapsed the hide. Glancing at the Institute once more, he climbed down the tree.
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“It's got his face too,” Sarah said to Kate. “Shall I forward it to Security? Oh, I recognise him. Computer agrees. He's a reporter.”
“He's tried to interview you?”
“Yes. Several times, about every six months, I think.”
“Persistent guy?”
“Yes. Polite about it, but persistent.”
“I'll set Security on him, shall I?”
“I've got an idea. Rather than Security, why don't we get Teresa to call him?”
“Teresa?”
“She could point out to him that if he's trying for an interview then this is a very stupid way of doing it, and we can't give him one anyway as it would mean breaking the exclusive deal.”
“You mean she should try to reason with him?”
“I was more thinking, offer to hand him over to Bob's boss and associated lawyers.”
“Oooh. Nasty. Let's see if it works.”
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9:00AM
“Hello, am I speaking to Mr. Tony Randle, freelance journalist?” A voice only call, number withheld. A woman, pleasant sounding he decided.
“Yes, that's me.”
“You've just been pointing a lens at the Institute for the Human Mind with an objective diameter of about two hundred millimetres. I'm calling as the Institute's legal representative to ask you not to do that.”
“I was bird watching, I accidentally pointed the lens towards the Institute.”
“I don't think so, Mr. Randle. The Institute does have to have a sophisticated security system, you know. You triggered the lens detector and strobe system, then packed up your kit and left. The computer played back its recordings and found you'd been up that tree for about five minutes before that, mostly trying to set up a hide, as though that would protect from the lens detector! Earlier on you'd walked past the Institute, looking towards the tree you later climbed. You knew that tree had a partial view of the main entrance of the Institute, and you could record people coming and going. My client would like to know why, Mr. Randle, and asked me to ask you politely not to point lenses at the Institute again.”
“Nothing I did was illegal.”
“You don't need to instruct me about legalities, Mr. Randle. Since reporting about comings and goings from the Institute is a crime, and you are a reporter, we could leave it up to a jury to decide if you were interrupted preparing to commit a crime. Alternatively we could hand over the evidence to Internal Security — you understand it is they, not the regular police who'd handle the case. Or you could answer my question.”
“Maam, are you attempting to blackmail me?”
Teresa laughed. “No, Mr. Randle, I'm trying to find out what on earth you thought you were doing. My client wonders if you might have been trying to work out who was a client and who staff so you could try and interview someone who works here.”
“How did you know?”
“It was a guess, Mr. Randle. You have a reputation for persistence beyond the realm of the average reporter, and it seemed to fit. I would like to point out that there's an exclusive agreement with NWN, so even if you did identify a staff member they couldn't talk to you. Also, if you planned to show the pictures you took to anyone other than your subject, then that's technically reporting.”
“Oh. Thank you, that's embarrassing. I'd not thought of that. I'm in your debt.”
“You were going to?”
“Urm. I don't think I should answer that, should I?”
Teresa laughed again. She had a nice laugh, Tony decided.
“So, could I interview you?” he asked, full of hope.
“Me?”
“You're not staff, I'd guess, if the Institute is your client. I expect you could answer some questions without breaching client confidentiality. You've knowingly worked near to mind-readers, and I need to to have some sort of significant interview sometime if I'm ever to get a permanent post.”
“I see the benefits to you. What about the benefit to me?”
“My undying gratitude? Dinner? A professional studio portrait photograph of yourself, your loved one and/or your children? You gain the glow of another good deed done for having helped someone in desperate need of a career boost? All of the above? I'd let you check whatever I write. Please?”
“Well, I've got no loved-one or children so you can scratch those off your list, but maybe. I'll discuss this with my client.”
“Thank you, maam. Thank you so much!”
“I'll be in touch, Mr. Randle.”
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“Kate, I'm not sure if that went well.”
“Oh?”
“He sounds so desperate for an interview, and asked me if I'd give him one. Offered me dinner and professional studio photograph in exchange.”
“I've been looking him up. Genuine bona-fide freelance journalist and photographer. His name rang a bell, he was actually one of the wedding photographers we were thinking of using.”
“So, can I tell him anything? I don't want to break confidentiality, but he seemed so desperate. And genuinely chagrined at the thought that he'd got close to illegality.”
“Oh?”
“He said, ‘Oh, thank you,’ when I pointed out to him that showing anyone a photo of someone leaving was reporting it.”
“So, at least he doesn't seem to want to break the law.”
“No. So, do I talk to him? And what can I say?”
“Well, I guess he wants a ‘my first experience with thought-readers’ story. We're not making a secret of Sarah overheating her brain, Bob's planning to mention it some time, but you'd better make it clear to him that you're not saying Sarah is staff or not.”
“There's a problem with that, Kate,” John said from the doorway. “Sorry, just passing and my ears pricked up at the sound of Sarah's name.”
“Oh? What's the problem?”
“You said it yourself, way back when you signed her on. If she weren't staff, then you'd be out of a job. Who's the ‘him'?”
“I might have exaggerated a little. ‘Him’ is the wedding-photographer-cum-journalist that Sarah's pet found pointing lenses at us.”
“Oh. OK, so maybe you exaggerated. But it is the Institute's prime reason to exist. Therefore if he's done his homework then he ought to know you'd try hard.”
“OK. So, does Teresa keep in line with what Bob says, or do we let this guy know more than Bob is saying?”
“When does Bob's lunchtime report go out?”
“One thirty.”
“So, Teresa certainly doesn't talk before then, else this guy gets trusted with unbroadcast material, breaking the exclusive reporting agreement.”
“So, should I just tell him no?”
“I really don't know. Let's call Bob in on this.”
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“So there's the story, Bob. Any thoughts, advice?”
Bob ran his hand through his thinning hair.
“He's free-lance and wants his big break?”
“Yes.”
“But seemed repentant when told that he'd almost broken the law?”
“That was my impression, yes. Thanked me for pointing it out, carefully avoided admitting anything, but my impression was that he seemed more worried about that than when I'd mentioned Security to him.”
“So here he is with the story of a lifetime in front of him, and he's backing away from it?”
“I don't know about backing away, but I have the impression that he dropped his plan A and plan B like hot potatoes, and asked me for an interview instead. Pointing out that since I'd described the Institute as my client, I can't be a full-time employee, and therefore not fully covered by the exclusive reporting contract with your boss.”
“OK. Right, here's my viewpoint. Firstly, I really like to hear about a reporter faced with this temptation backing away. Big stories don't land in your lap every month, or even every year, and yet the major agencies demand them before they'll take someone on. I guess it's a reporter's initiation rite or something. That backing down either means he's not ready for it, or he's got ethics. Your guess, Teresa?”
“Ethics,” Teresa said, decisively.
“And what does he know about you?”
“Not much. That I'm the legal advisor for the Institute and that I'm single with no children.”
“How did he get that?”
“Offered me studio photos of myself, loved one and children, along with dinner, if I agreed to an interview. Oh, and his undying gratitude. I'm struggling to put a value on that one though.”
“And you want to accept because of those inducements?”
“No. Because he said please, as though his very future depended on me.”
“It probably does. Ethical big stories don't come along very often. Talk to him, Teresa. See what else he's managed to dig up on you. Discuss with him the fact that you think the contract does apply to you and ask to see the copy before it's published.”
“Oh, he's offered that already.”
“Right. Then let me call him. I don't actually remember his name. Did you say?”
“Tony Randle.”
“No wonder!” Bob smiled.
“You know him?”
“Well, assuming there's not that many Randles around, his dad, no I suppose grandfather, taught me the ethics of this trade. I certainly want to talk to him. But first I'm going to call Albert.”
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10:45AM
“Albert, are you free?”
“As free as I'll be until retirement, Bob. Why?”
“Old old favour to call in, I think.”
“Oh? I don't remember any.”
“Bob Randle.”
“That's not old, that's prehistoric! What brings that name to mind?”
“A young, well, mid-thirty's I think, freelance reporter has just triggered the Institute's lens detector. When Teresa, their legal advisor, pointed out to him that he'd never be able to show them to anyone without breaking the law, he dropped that idea like it was a ticking bomb and thanked her for telling him. His plan had been to work out who was staff, we think. I get the idea that if he'd actually taken any photos he'd have chewed up the data-crystal himself. But he convinced Teresa that she'd like to give him his one big chance interview. He's called Tony Randle. I've checked. Grandson.”
“So, he planned to take some photos, approach the person concerned and ask for an interview?”
“I'm not sure. It could have been someone else's idea. If he'd actually done it he'd have recognized some people, I'm sure.”
“Oh?”
“I'm not allowed to tell you who works here, Albert.”
“No. You're not.”
“So, what I was thinking was if young Mr. Randle comes good in his interview, should we give him the chance his Granddad gave us? It'd certainly save Teresa some anguish about what she can tell him or not.”
“You mean she wants to tell him things you've not told the world yet?”
“Her first introduction to the gift being used almost killed the woman who was reading her thoughts. Their brain kicks into overdrive to interpret what they're getting but overdrive means lots of brain-work. She over-did it, almost cooked her neurons. Teresa's story is the best way to describe the risk, and I was going to interview her about it one day, but it's not actually in either paper, from what I remember.”
“So it's a marginal case as far as the exclusive reporting goes. She'd be talking about something which the Institute is happy to see go out. Young Tony should see it as a real scoop. And you think he should bring it to us?”
“That's right.”
“And he learned well from his Granddad, you think?”
“I've not talked to him yet, but I've seen signs of it in what Teresa says.”
“Then point him to me, Bob. We owe the old man far more than that. If it's a good scoop and if he can get it down well, we'll let him in the door.”
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11AM
“Tony Randle?”
“Yes?”
“Bob McDaniel here.”
“Let me guess, the pleasant sounding legal advisor asked her client and her client asked you, and you're going to tell me not to step into your exclusive deal?” The disappointment was clear.
“Not quite, happier news than that. But first, the stunt with the camera. Your idea?”
“No. I'm currently wondering how to express my displeasure to the editor who suggested it. Dumb of me not to realise that telling him counted as reporting.”
“Well, it's an edge case, but technically true, and with Security as uppity as they are you'd have been swinging high. Anyway, the pleasant young woman asked her pleasant employer, and we decided that it probably doesn't get covered in the contract. Your scoop. I was thinking of interviewing her one day but you asked first.”
“You're joking!”
“Not about such things, no. One strong suggestion though. I don't know who you were going to offer your scoop to, but I'd recommend my boss, Albert Campbell. Take it to him in person. I've talked to him, and he's going to be expecting you.'’
“But... why? Why do I get special treatment?”
“Because everyone deserves a first big story, you've hooked a big one, even if you don't know it yet, and NWN doesn't want competition. Research well, ask the right questions, about things she can tell you about, write it up well, and there's a post for you.”
“Urm. Thank you. I don't know what I've done to deserve it.”
“You've done nothing yet, lad, write it up well or Albert'll show you the door quick as you can blink. But Albert and I owe your Granddad a favour, so you get to talk to Albert straight away rather than go through the hoops. Is Bob still alive? It's been years since I've been in contact with him.”
“Yes, he's getting on of course, but he's still full of good advice.”
“Well, that's good to hear. You listen to him well, that's my advice to you. Tell him I said 'Hi' next time you talk to him.”
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12:30
“Hello, Tony.” A video call this time. It was nice to see her as well as hear her. It confirmed his research.
“Hello, thank you for calling with video, it's nice to see your face. Bob McDaniel told me that I should do my research well. Which I always try to do anyway, but I did happen to find the name Teresa Riley on some legal documents connected with the Institute, and some old pictures. Would that still be your name?”
“It would. So now you know all about me?”
“I'm sure I don't know everything, or I'd hardly be looking forward to interviewing you. You've not changed your mind?”
“No, no, I'll let you feed me dinner. Do you plan to feed me and then quiz me, or feed me while you quiz me?”
“I think, if you don't mind, I'd like to take you to a nice restaurant I know, and then interview you afterwards.”
“You're not worried that I might eat and run, or that I'll be a dead loss as an interviewee?”
“I don't think you'd eat and run, and Bob's given me the odd hint that if you're a dead loss as an interviewee then I'm no reporter.”
“So, which restaurant? And when?”
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7PM
“Teresa! I hope you won't be offended if I say you look stunning.”
“I'll only take it as a compliment. But I could hardly come here in my gardening clothes, could I?”
“Ah, no. I'd have been out of place in my tree-climbing outfit too.”
“So, does journalism pay better than I thought? Or is it the wedding photography work?”
“Urm, more a case of wanting to say a big thank you, but before you get too shocked by the prices, I'd like to quietly point out that the chef is my big brother and I get a discount.”
“Ah. Convenient! And you bring your wife or girlfriend here often?”
“No. I don't have one. And I hope that he doesn't assume... Oh no. I'm sorry.”
“You think he might think I'm your girlfriend?”
“Urm, yes. I think so. I asked if there might be a secluded table for two, and then I arrive with a beautiful woman...”
“Oh well, you can set him right, can't you?”
“Yes. I hope it doesn't get embarrassing for you though.”
“I don't embarrass that easily, Tony. But I am curious which photos you found of me.”
“They were quite old, I guess from your student days, and no, I won't be showing them to my brother.”
“Oh no, not that beauty pageant!”
“Indeed.”
“OK. Perhaps I can get embarrassed. It was a charity event, you know.”
“Yes, I saw that.”
Just then the waiter arrived and they placed their orders.
“So, now you know my most public embarrassment. What's yours?”
“Tree climbing?”
“That's not public.”
“I thought it might make a good introduction to my report.”
“How?”
“A reporter will sometimes go to extreme lengths...”
“No. Don't do it. This isn't your memoirs, this is your masterpiece — in the original sense.’
“Original sense?”
“You've served your apprenticeship and now you have just one chance to convince a critical judge that you have the skills to be a master craftsman. So, don't do something about yourself, write about what I tell you and what you've discovered, other than too much of my bare flesh on display.”
“What will you tell me?”
She stood and addressed a nearby pot-plant (with a slightly quieter tone than her normal courtroom voice): “Milord, the witness feels that under the generally accepted conventions she can only answer questions put, and that it is up to the examining reporter to direct the interview.”
Motioning to her to sit, Tony said, laughing, “Shhh, you're attracting attention.”
“Well, isn't the crack reporter supposed to wheedle the truth out of the reticent witness?”
“In the interview, yes. This is just dinner.”
“So then, tell me about your greatest public embarrassment.”
“Well, I was in a restaurant with a beautiful young lady and just when I spotted an elder from my church coming in, she stood up and addressed a pot-plant.”
“Well maybe you should introduce us sometime. But maybe, sir, you should answer the question... By the way, which church?”
“Cromwell Street Evangelical.”
“Greatest public embarrassment before today?”
“Ahh, I was taking a two hour long chemistry practical exam, and I'd arrived just on time, but needed the toilet. There was this experiment which involved putting an exact quantity of one solution into another one, drip by drip. Thirty-five sets of equipment going drip drip drip. I tried to resist as long as I could, but all those water sounds...”
“But you were let out from the experiment?”
“Yes, but I had to wait in front of everyone, jiggling up and down, while someone was called to accompany me to the facilities.”
“OK, that's embarrassing, you poor kid. So, next question. What made you go up that tree?”
“I was just submitting a report to an editor when Robert McDaniel made his report about thought hearing, and the editor said, ‘Tony, you've got that birdwatching camera!’ Then he suggested that if I could get a photo of someone arriving in the morning and leaving in the evening, then even if they wouldn't talk to me immediately, maybe I'd be able to pester them into an interview. And it'd be worth a job if I ever got an interview with someone from the Institute. Thank you for reminding me it was reporting on the institute to show just one person. I knew that, but somehow he convinced me it wasn't.”
“So, do you think that he was after that photo for his own purposes? Presumably he wasn't going to publish it?”
“He said that he'd mask out the face if he used it.”
“Tony, I'm an officer of the court. Do you know what that means?”
“Urm, I should have kept my mouth shut?”
“It means that I have to report a crime if I hear of one. It sounds to me that your editor commissioned you to supply him with a picture of a worker at the Institute. That's not allowed.”
“I... Maybe.”
“So, what I'd like you to do, if you don't mind, is report this yourself. If you do mind, then I'll have to report it.”
“Urm. I might never work again.”
“I don't think that's the case. What I expect is that Security will interview you, and then the editor will be investigated and maybe warned not to do it again, assuming it's a first offence. Would you like to tell me his name so that I can write it down and then maybe Security don't even need to interview you?”
“Is this all some kind of investigation? The beautiful agent-provocateuse persuades the reporter to grass up the guy who sent him up the tree, leaving his career in tatters?” He felt he could see his life's ambition crumbling to dust in front of him.
“Thank you for the compliment, but no, this is all about you, interested reporter, buying me, Teresa, a meal in exchange for what we both hope is a career-making interview. However, you did something silly, and your editor did something illegal. So in order that we both have clean consciences before God, I've told you what I must do. And as a personal favour I'm giving you a chance to swear a statement before me that will mean that you will probably never need to talk to Security.”
He hadn't processed all that she said, but grasped at a straw, “As a favour?”
“You don't want to see what I have to charge my clients, Tony. You're giving me what I expect will be an excellent meal, and I'm not charging for any legal advice offered.”
Maybe she wasn't out to destroy him then. “Oh, urm. You mentioned God. You're a believer?”
“Yes. I grew up around the edges of a Sunday school, then went far away from God for a decade or so. Vaguely involved in a church for the past few years, saw some surprising things at work and was one of the conversions that Bob mentioned in today's broadcast. Did you see it?”
“Yes. Urm, quite a surprising turn.”
“God's in charge. I guess it's time for secrets to be shouted from rooftops.”
“So it's real? There is someone at the Institute who could read my every thought?”
“Yes, it's real. I'm not going to say if they're at the Institute though.”
“But you've met one?”
“Uh, yes.”
“You hesitated. More than one?”
“You're too good. I need to be more careful.”
“I don't suppose they did more than tell of their ability. Or did they prove it somehow?”
“They did, but I thought we'd have the interview later?”
“Yes, we will, but you mean to tell me that you were an eyewitness when this gift was being demonstrated? That you can tell me about what you saw without breaching client confidentiality?” After his near despair earlier, Tony was getting excited. The food arrived.
“If that's all you're interested in. But later, OK?”
“'If that's all?’ Bob said he'd planned to interview you...”
“Tony, later! OK? It's not very public, but there are ears around. I've nothing planned so you can interview me all evening if you like, but let's not let this food get cold. It looks good.”
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“Thank you.”
“What for? Reminding you not to upset your brother?”
“No, for setting aside your whole evening for me.”
“Well, I'm having a moderately pleasant evening so far. Very pleasant except when you were thinking I was out to wreck your life. I'm not, honestly, I'm not.”
“I can see that now. Sorry. Life's been stressful recently.”
“Since climbing that tree?”
“Well, that didn't help. But I'm not getting the wedding photo business I was hoping for, even though I've not changed my prices.”
“So, someone's undercutting you?”
“Either that or there's an extra couple of photographers moved into the area that I don't know about. Or fashions have changed and I didn't know. I guess I need to have an opinion poll done.”
“I've had a few friends get married recently. Would you like me to ask them?”
“Yes, please.”
“Oh, I know why one wouldn't have asked you. She's allergic to reporters.”
“Oh. Urm, not much I can do about that, is there?”
“Not really. You can't expect someone who's avoiding you in one area of life to ask you to take her wedding photos, can you?”
“I suppose not. But you make it sound like it's me personally, not just all reporters.”
“I think she described you as one of the most persistent, but always polite.”
“Oh. So she knew you were coming to talk to me?”
“I actually asked before deciding if I'd give you the interview. Seeing as she'd refused interviews with so many of your profession, I thought she might recognize your name or face.”
Tony wasn't sure how to take this. “Urm... so you're here because I go back and ask again if someone says no to an interview?”
“No, because you're always polite about the six monthly refusals.”
“Six monthly? You mean I've been asking this friend of yours for an interview every six months?”
“I think that's what she said.”
“For years?”
“That was my impression.”
“Then I can only think your friend is called Sarah.”
“She is, but she's moved house and is not called Smith any more.”
“And you're not going to tell me more.”
“Of course not.”
“Please send her my best wishes for a happy marriage.”
“I think it'll be happier if there are no interview requests in it. She said that hardly a fortnight went by without some reporter wanting to interview her.”
“Oh. I suppose it is rather selfish of us to keep on at her. But she lived just round the corner from me, and well...”
“You needed your big scoop. Yes. I know.”
“And now you've entered my life as an angel from on high and you're going to rescue me from obscurity.”
“Very poetic, but I thought that all I was going to do was tell you some things and then you were going to write it up, let me check it and then try to use it as a bargaining chip to win you a job?”
“Ah, but somehow Bob McDaniel has decided that he owes my grandfather a favour and therefore I get to offer it straight to the editor-in-chief at NWN.”
“Ah, well, you can't blame that on me. You can give glory to God if you like. I didn't even know about it...” Teresa thought back and her voice trailed off.
“I think that sounds a very good idea.” Tony agreed.
“...I mean, all I did was tell Bob the impression you gave me in our first conversation, and what Sarah had said about you, and then tell him your name,” she finished weakly.
“So, I can thank you, can't I?” There seemed to be a question in his tone, which she felt had more to do with emotions and the future than what he'd been saying.
She looked at him, appraisingly. He liked her looks, she was sure, which wasn't saying much, she'd met plenty of males with that opinion. But on the other hand, he wasn't bad company so far at least, he was slightly older than her, which was about right in her view. He was a Christian, which was a requirement. “Maybe,” she decided.
“I'm not sure I understand why you said ‘Maybe’ in that tone just now, Teresa.”
Teresa realised that maybe he didn't know what his body language was saying. “Just thinking aloud.”
“Penny for your thoughts?”
“Oh, I think they're probably worth more than that,” she smiled her dazzling smile again.
“Oh, how much?”
“I'll let you know.”
“You know, my granddad is full of good advice, but sometimes he jokes too. Something he said once comes to mind.”
“Yes?”
“He said that when a beautiful woman starts being enigmatic, it's time to run away.”
“Oh. So you're determined to believe that I'm beautiful, therefore you're going to run away before you interview me? Just because I was thinking of something and spoke aloud, and would rather not say what it was I was thinking about?”
“Ah, no. Not on your life. I'm just wondering if I should or not.”
“Oh. Well, my misspoken word might be appropriate then, mightn't it?”
“You mean ‘maybe?’ why should I run away? You're my ticket to a full time post as a reporter.”
“Ah, but will you survive in the cut and thrust of office politics? Being the new boy at the office, the one who reports on all the boring stuff that no-one wants to do? No more freedom, no control? Will you hate it after the first three days? And if so, will you blame me for getting you into it?”
“And if I did, would you care?”
“I'm really tempted to answer ‘maybe.’ But that wouldn't be true. Of course I'd care if you found that your dream job turned into a nightmare.”
“Ah, but that's not what I asked, is it?”
“You want to know if I'd care if you blamed me for ruining your life? Do I come across so heartless?”
“No, that's not what I mean, Teresa. I guess I'm asking, would you ever know, not would you care.”
“So, you wonder if I'm going to vanish from sight as fast as I can, hide behind anonymous companies and ignore your persistent calls for more interviews?”
“Maybe I should have run,” he told the ceiling, and took a deep breath. “I wasn't thinking about more interviews so much as more dinners.”
“Ah.” She thought a little before answering. “Now that line of thought, Mr. Randle, is only going to give ammunition to rumours and a certain amount of big brotherly teasing, and I think it is best discussed after we've finished the interview, but... maybe.”
“Maybe you'd be open to more dinners?”
“Maybe. But Tony, if you fill your head with ideas like this, you're not going to concentrate on the interview, nor am I, for that matter, and therefore you're not going to write as much as you should, and therefore you're not going to get the job that I'm giving you this interview for, and that would be a big waste, wouldn't it? So please file it away as a topic to be discussed later. Keep your mind on the important things.”
“I'd like to point out that you probably mean urgent as opposed to important.”
“Oh, I don't know. Maybe it's important to me that you get that job, and you not getting it would turn that ‘maybe’ into a ‘no.’ Have you considered that?”
“I have now. That's a sobering thought. Thank you, Teresa. How do you know how to wrap me round your finger so well?”
“I have a little brother. I've seen the male one track mind in action.”
“Ah. We're not all unable to walk and chew gum at the same time.”
“No, but I don't think you'll be able to think about the interview unless we change the topic of conversation. So, you have a big brother, any other relatives I should know about?”
“A little sister. Divorced, sadly.”
“Joint decision?”
“No. Hers. They married young, he lost his job and he couldn't cope. She couldn't cope with him not coping. Too many arguments, not enough reconciliation.”
“That's sad. Any kids?”
“No.”
“And your big brother?”
“Happily married, no kids yet. And you said you've got a brother? What does he do?”
“Currently in the forces, but for how much longer I don't know. He got urm... confused... by someone he respected, went AWOL and broke into someone's house.”
“Confused? You don't mean that euphemistically.”
“I'm not sure. He went a bit mentally unstable. He came round when he was running away from the gunmen who'd been sent by his ‘friend,’ but before that, he denounced me as being a gullible fool tricked into believing the devil's lies.”
“What on earth for?”
“Working for the Institute. At the time he thought that all mind-reading was a work of witchcraft, and there I was, representing the Institute.”
“Hold on, when was this then?”
“A couple of months ago. I'm not sure how much I can say about it though, it's probably an official secret. I'd have to ask.”
“Oh. Do you know many official secrets then?”
“Quite a few, probably. One of my clients was really really impressed when I told them my clearance level. Apparently it means that I'm trusted to read anything the government should happen to send their way, unlike the managing director.”
“What does he do then?”
“Passes the message to the chairman of the board, who eventually gets round to either telling him it's not relevant or editing it down so it's a case of jump through these hoops and don't ask why.”
“But you could read it?”
“Yes. But I can't go giving orders to the managing director, can I? I can just tell him that if he doesn't want to go to jail, he needs to make sure he doesn't break the official secrets laws.”
“I don't want you to get in trouble.”
“That's why I'm not telling you any more about what my little brother was doing.”
“So, if I happened to be a mind reader, would that influence your maybe?”
“It might, if you couldn't get clearance. I'm not at all sure what the whole clearance thing does to relationships. Probably not much more than you protecting your sources and me not breaking client confidentiality and so on. But are you a mind reader?”
“No, not as far as I know.”
“You'd know. You can't turn off ears, and it connects to the same part of the brain.”
“I wonder if you can turn off eyes actually. All we do is cover them up so they stop sending signals. That doesn't turn them off.”
“Good point. A bit obscure for your typical news article though.”
“Yes. Would you like dessert?”
“After that meal? Not straight away, anyway. Where are you planning for the interview to be? Here?”
“It's up to you. We can use my office / studio if you prefer, it's just down the road and more private. On the other hand... it's more private.”
“You mean, do I want to stay somewhere where I can scream for help, or where I don't get overheard?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
“I don't think you're planning any foul deeds, are you, Tony?”
“No. But then I'd say that, wouldn't I?”
“Yes. But if I go missing, you're suspect number one, so I think I'm safe. Let's use your office.”
----------------------------------------
“So, is it OK if I record this? I can write short-hand, but not as fast as I'd like.”
“I didn't know anyone used it these days. Record away. But just for your research, not for broadcast. And, urm, I think I'd be happier if it was audio only.”
“Of course. Am I allowed to know the reason?”
Teresa hesitated a second or two. “I hope that recorder's off, Tony.”
“Yes. No recordings, no notebook, no reporting.”
“I've had boyfriends. I know they weren't Christians and you are, but...” she shuddered “... I don't want my picture to be used like that again. Ever.”
“Oh. You mean...”
“I mean that I once came home unexpectedly and found my boyfriend was masturbating over a video of me he'd secretly filmed. I realised then that our whole relationship had really been based on nothing but his lust, and all my previous ones too, really. I threw him out and broke off the relationship there and then. I threw out his trousers and underwear eventually too, when I could find a stick to hold them with. I eventually let him in to get the rest of his stuff, but I burnt the crystal he'd been watching.”
Tony was caught by surprise. He knew she'd not been a Christian until recently, but he hadn't expected to hear anything about her previous life, certainly not this side of the interview. His thoughts stumbled.
“Sorry. I... urm... sorry.”
“I felt very very dirty for the next few years. It was only when I came to Christ that I realised that I'd still been feeling dirty, just I somehow got used to it. I'm sorry, you didn't expect to learn that, did you?”
“It can't have been pleasant.”
“It's why I've not even considered romance for the last five years. I'm soiled goods, I know, Tony, physically and emotionally. I wanted you to realise that, before you consider any more dinners together. And, urm, it's probably best if you keep away from the whole praising my beauty thing, please, it does nothing except stir up bad memories.”
“Teresa, Christ has washed away your sins, and made you clean. You surprised me, telling me like that, but I could have guessed you...” he blushed.
“You probably could have guessed that I'd thrown away my virginity a long time ago. But I'm shoving that fact down your throat. Sorry if I'm embarrassing you, I just thought you should know. I like feeling clean, it's a wonderful new experience, but the memories of my stupidity are still there. I'm not interested in repeating them. And if knowing that pours cold water on your sex drive, then so much the better as far as the interview is concerned.”
“Teresa, I'm going to try and concentrate on the interview but I think I'm at least three quarters in love with you already. I liked your voice the first time I heard you and I like your quick mind and your insight and the way you laugh. And yes, you are a very beautiful woman but I'll try not to say it. Thank you for trusting me with that. I don't know how I've deserved it. I've never even kissed the girls I've been on dates with beyond a quick peck on the cheek, things just never seemed to work out. So... talking about ‘maybe’ is the closest I've ever got to serious emotional involvement.”
“So, have I just ruined any hope you have of concentrating?”
“I hope not.”
“Then maybe we should turn on that recorder.”
“Can we pray first?”
“Of course.”
“Father God, if it's Your will that I get this job that I've been hoping for, then help me to ask the right questions and to write what I learn well. Thank You for letting me meet Teresa, help her in her new walk with You I pray, and help us to know our thoughts about each other. Amen.”
“Amen.”
“Can you tell me when you first heard about all this mind-reading stuff?”
“Oh, yes. Mid-June I think, shall I look it up?”
“Yes, please.”
Teresa checked her diary. There it was.
“On Wednesday the 21st of June I got a rough draft, very rough, of a document that the Institute thought it should send to its clients, and I went to talk to them that afternoon. They'd found out about the thought-readers' abilities two days earlier. It seems like ages ago!”
“And that was when they demonstrated thought-reading to you?”
“Yes. I thought of a poem and touched fingers with the thought-hearer. They repeated it word perfectly, including my mistakes.”
“So you were convinced?”
“Wouldn't you be?”
“Yes. I suppose so. And was that when they demonstrated the spiritual gift too?”
“Yes. They weren't sure how to use it, but they'd seen enough to make them feel that they had to be very careful and warn people about it.”
“So that triggered your presence and the document they wanted to send?”
“Yes. In an earlier demonstration someone had been trying to hide his thoughts from them, but it had been as effective as hiding behind a sheet of clear glass.”
“Ah. But there's a difference between the two? One is like hearing — totally unavoidable, but the other isn't?”
“No. I think the other one is a little like picking up a stone and looking under it. No, that's not a good analogy. Perhaps like choosing a vid channel by name?”
“So they decide, ‘I'll look at what Teresa's thinking,’ and they do?”
“Yes.”
“And you felt nothing?”
“No. I noticed their eyes sort of stare into space, but that was it.”
“And you, with your head full of confidential details, were happy to let them have a look to demonstrate this?”
“No, not at the beginning. But they described it very clearly, and then they came up with those clauses. Well, it was obvious that they weren't planning on writing a ‘what if we do something wrong’ statement but one which guaranteed that they wouldn't.”
“Those clauses?”
“I think the document's been released, but it basically said that if they pass on what they learned without permission, they'd forfeit their jobs, any income they might receive from passing on the information, and half their personal wealth. Also that they'd only use the gift on people with permission.”
“That's quite a penalty.”
“Yes. In the final version there are some get out clauses like if they find out about a crime then they'll act like any reasonable citizen would, and that if they suspect someone's at risk they can use their gift to help rescue them. But otherwise, it's pretty much unmodified.”
“And they bound themselves to this?”
“Yes. Willingly.”
“So that reassured you and they proved their gift to you?”
“Yes. I told a well rehearsed fabric of lies about my childhood, and they listened in.”
“So, in effect you were seeing if they'd actually be able to act as lie detectors?”
“Yes. They can't.”
“Oh, it didn't work?”
“They saw straight through the lies, told me the real version, and then about five minutes later lost consciousness. That was after fifteen seconds, I think it was, of looking.”
“Lost consciousness? You mean passed out from tiredness?”
“No. I mean their brain had started to become inflamed, and if there hadn't been medical staff on hand, it's quite likely they would have died.”
“What? Why? How?”
“It's a risk of what the gift allows them to do. They'd pushed themselves way to far. Later tests showed that their brain uses something like thirty times the normal amount of energy to read someone's thoughts like that. There's too much information to process. Their minds can cope for a bit, but... thermodynamics kicks in. You can't burn that much energy without getting hot, and it was only a small part of their brain doing it.”
“So used like they tried with you, an extended look at how someone's thinking, is a sort of suicide?”
“Yes. Very painful too, from what I'm told.”
“Why didn't they know this? I'm a bit confused about that. They had this gift, they talked to the Institute and found that it is lethal. But this is a gift of God and there are another fifty-five people around the world with it too? Why didn't one of them tell them how to use it properly?”
“They were too new to it, Tony. They didn't know. God didn't wake anyone up and tell them to give them the introductory course on using their gift, and it sure didn't come with an instruction manual.”
“God didn't tell them anything, just gave them the gift?”
“He's been revealing things, but He's letting them make their own decisions in how they use the gift He's given. They know the others with the gift now too, of course, and tend to consult quite a lot.”
“And how did they find out about having the gift then?”
“From what I understand, slowly.”
“Slowly?”
“Step by step, surprise after surprise. I'm not sure I can answer that better without breaking confidences. Sorry.”
“So it wasn't a case of waking up one day and suddenly having an extra arm?”
“Not nearly so obvious, no. I understand that it's not uncommon to not know you have been given it until something unusual happens.”
“Then half the people at church could have it and not know?”
“As far as I know, it's only given in conjunction with the normal thought-hearing power.”
“Ah. So not half. Can you elaborate on 'something unusual'?”
“Well, for instance from what I understand, the gift comes with understanding — language is no barrier when you're hearing thoughts, if you have the gift.”
“So if someone hears a thought in another language and understands it, they have the gift?”
“Unless they speak the language already.”
“Any other for instances?”
“I know of some, but...”
“Too specific?”
“Yes.”
“Bob spoke of them being able to think to others around the world.”
“Yes. One of the first others to contact them was apparently eleven time zones away.”
“That's fairly impressive. I also find it impressive that you're able to speak in the third person plural all the time. I'm sure I'd have dropped a he or she in there sometime. I do notice that you were slightly more hesitant when talking about the one who'd overheated their brain. Might there be a reason for that?”
“Maybe I'm getting better with practice?”
“Maybe. That word again. You're not giving very much away, are you?” He said with a smile.
“I thought I'd told you quite a lot of interesting things.”
“Oh you have, but I'm after more.”
“Oh well. Maybe you should have done more research on the Institute and less about me?”
“I admit my bias. People are more interesting. But that was a hint, wasn't it? There's something about the Institute that might answer my questions.”
“I'm not going to do your research for you, Tony, that wouldn't be right. I'm speaking from an insider position and things that seem obvious to me might not be to you.”
“All I found was the UN declaration and the founding documents.”
“No hints coming from me. None at all. Did they make interesting reading?”
“The UN declaration was boring. I really liked the founding document, all those high and mighty aims. Hey, that's it, isn't it? The main reason for the founding of the Institute?”
“Don't let me interrupt your thoughts.” She wasn't sure why, but she fluttered her eyelids at him. He spluttered.
“What was that then? Sabotage?”
“I'm not sure. Sorry.”
“You should be. Where were my thoughts.” He realised that his eyes had drifted to look at her legs. Nice legs. He looked up at the ceiling and shut them. “Urm, not there, sorry. The founding document... the primary aim of the the Institute... investigate all aspects of the human mind, explore its potentials, discover all its powers and document them for posterity.” He looked at her again “That's in the first paragraph. The Institute was set up to look for things like thought-hearing and the gift!”
“Yes, that's true. Good memory you've got there. And does that answer your unstated question then?”
“No. But there was something else relevant. I know there was.”
“Well, I can hang around until about midnight, if you need me to.”
“Teresa, you're playing with me, aren't you?”
“No, I'm fascinated at the ability of your mind to remember things like this.”
“But there's something in that document that I need to think of, isn't there?”
“Oh, I'm sure there is lots of interesting stuff in there if you were going to report on the Institute. But you're not going to comment on the comings and goings of anyone, are you?”
“Can I at least mention you?”
“By my relationship, please, not name.”
“But the Institute almost has to have one of these gifted people on staff, doesn't it?”
“Why?”
“So they can be investigated. There was a fund, I remember now. A certain portion of money put into a fund to enable the subject to be employed.”
“Oh? I've not read the document very recently. It rings a bell though.”
“And the failure of the director to persuade someone with an undocumented mental ability to join the team would mean they'd have failed to perform their primary duty to the Institute, and would have to reapply to the board if they wanted to keep their job....”
“What a draconian clause. I wonder if it could be enforced in an employment tribunal,” she commented, just giving a tiny hint, she admitted to herself.
Tony grabbed it. “As legal advisor, I understand that you cannot comment specifically on your client's legal affairs, but could you tell me if you think that such a clause could be enforced, legally?”
“It would be a difficult case to fight on both sides, and would probably be very messy.”
“Messy?”
“Accusations of unfair dismissal of the director of such a prestigious and news-shy Institution? It'd be sure to attract a lot of press attention.”
“Thank you, Teresa! May I quote you verbatim on that one?”
“If you want to, but don't stop too soon.”
“Urm... Teresa, how long would such a case take to come to court, or at least the attention of the press?”
“Quite quickly these days. I'd expect the press to learn of it within a matter of hours from the first filings. The case itself would start within a few days, there's not much of a backlog.”
“And the case would almost certainly be contested, you think?”
“Unless the director was unhappy in her job.”
“Urm, let me see, I know I got her name from a company financial report somewhere... He flipped through some pages of notes. “I think it was Karen, or Kate... Kate Burnett! There she is. How is it that she's allowed to be named on a company report, Teresa?”
“She isn't. Can you tell me where you got that?”
“Yes, of course. Urm... company accounts filed last year.”
“I think I need to make a call. May I?”
“Of course.”
“Hi, Kate. Yes thank you, I'm having fun, yes, a charming man, but he's found something he shouldn't have done. Your full name was on the company accounts that were filed last year, so we're pausing to let you know. Yes. Good thing you've changed it. Oh, did he? Well, if he asks, can I confirm it? And he was wondering about that too, others doing that as well. I can tell him that? Yes, we're getting on very well. Yes, he's a Christian, and he's being very polite about trying not to look like he's listening to everything I say to you. Yes, I'll introduce you if that happens. Of course he won't. Kate! It's too early for that. OK, bye!”
“I'm remembering, I can't think what could have reminded me, that I quoted a certain Kate Burnett for wedding photos.”
Teresa laughed. “You're too good at making connections, Tony. I should have left the room.”
“So... I had been planning to ask if Kate Burnett was still director, but as you pointed out, she's not allowed to be named. And I suspect that she's not called Kate Burnett any more. Am I right?”
“You are right. And she told me why she didn't accept your quotation too. Would you like to know?” She asked uncertainly.
He heard the uncertainty in her voice, so rather than an immediate yes, he asked, “Is it going to be very painful?”
“I'm not sure.”
“Go on.”
“It wasn't the price. It was the package.”
“The package?”
“She said that it seemed like you offered a fixed package, which didn't suit them, so they went for another, more expensive one instead, which seemed to offer more flexibility.”
“What! That's crazy! I've always been flexible.”
“I wonder what she saw then that made her think that.”
“So do I. I don't actually send out the quotations myself, I used to send an individual message but now it goes through a semi-automatic system. I lost an order by getting the bride's name wrong once so I switched. But actually, I started using that about the time that orders started dropping off. I wonder what's gone wrong.”
“More research needed?”
“Indeed. So, back to the matter in hand, I hope Kate had a lovely wedding. I wonder what gets me introduced and what it's much too early for.”
“Kate likes to tease, not to mention match-make. She asked if we'd set a wedding date.”
“Yes. I see. I add my righteous indignation as well. So the introduction happens if ‘maybe’ turns to ‘yes'?”
“Actually it was if ‘we become serious’.”
“Do we have to become serious? I like your laugh.”
“You've said that before. Have we moved beyond the interview?”
“I think I do have some more questions. But the most important one I want to ask is would you be willing to meet without the pretext of an interview, just because we seem to enjoy each other's company?”
“Yes, Tony. I think on that basis: no strings attached, no promises I can't make yet, I'd like that. I think I'd like that quite a lot.”
“Thank you, Teresa. Now as my heart overflows with happiness, can I ask you some more questions?”
“Of course,” she smiled.
“You mentioned God waking someone up in the middle of the night, and that the first contact with one of the others was from eleven time zones away. Can you tell me any more about that event?”
“I think I can. Yes. It was on the 17th of July.”
“The day the gangs ran mad?”
“Yes. That day. First day of my new life.”
“And there's a connection between all those things?”
“There is, I'm going to have to be careful though, since while some of what happened isn't sensitive, other stuff is.”
“Can I ask what you were doing at the Institute? Is that safe?”
“Actually... I was hiding.”
“Hiding? Who from?”
“My brother, or rather the gun-men who were after him. I got a message from Security to get to a place of safety and they suggested the Institute. Actually they took me there.”
“So Security thought you were at risk?”
“Yes. They had suspicions, proved correct, about who had set my brother his task, they knew his likely reaction too: it would be gun-men, and no witnesses.”
“So if your brother had sought sanctuary with you then you'd have been at risk?”
“Yes. It was odd hearing what was going through his mind.”
“What? You heard his thoughts yourself?”
“Not directly. Back then they didn't know how to use the gift to tell where someone was, all they could do was listen to someone's thoughts from afar and hope that gave them a clue where the person was. The person from Security convinced them there was a real threat to my brother so they tuned in, and for some of it it was like hearing a running translation of his thoughts. As he was running. And because they listened in, my brother still lives.”
“They were able to get help to him?”
“Yes. Bad guys all captured.”
“And somehow that prompted your decision?”
“Not in itself, but... partly. They had no reason to protect him, humanly. Several reasons not to.”
“Like his denunciation of you? This was after that?”
“Yes.”
“And the house he broke into was someone's at the Institute?”
“I can't answer that.”
“And Security was involved in discovering that break-in?”
“I can't answer that Tony. Forget about the house, please.”
“OK. House is off limits. But even though he was your brother, you felt they had plenty of motive to let him hang on his own rope?”
“Yes. Actually, I skipped over a bit, I think. No, it was later on. I'm a bit confused what happened when, but later at some point, they checked on him, just to make sure he was OK. I mean, OK, rescuing him when he's in danger, but actually checking that he's OK? That was the extra mile that really made me think.”
“And the gangs?”
“That prompted the international call, yes.”
“What, God interrupted someone's sleep to tell them to contact the gifted people here?”
She spotted that he'd thrown a plural into the question. “You sneaky man! He told them to contact the gifted person or people here, yes. The gangs were organised, they'd been given targets. Some were more specific than others.”
“And the international caller told them how to find people being chased by the gangs?”
“That too, later on, but he told them how to find where people were, and also who was in a certain place. He also told them how to look at the evil that the organiser had set in motion, was connected to. That was the crunch.”
“How so?”
“When you peer deeply at evil, it might peer back. When you disclose it and threaten its plans, it might strike back. The plans were demonic in the secular sense, but they weren't sure if they were in the spiritual sense too. They knew I had some sort of faith, but it wasn't very live, and pointed out that being on good terms with God was safer. I agreed. It was a lot better than ‘I might have made a commitment when I was little but I didn't keep to it, and I know I'm not right with him.’ And so I went off in a huddle with one of the Christians at the Institute and then God made me clean!”
Tony could see the radiant joy in her face and decided two things. Firstly that he'd do a lot of praying to sort out his relationship with God, which had grown fairly stale recently, and secondly, since he loved her so much already, he was going to put her needs above his. He prayed a silent commitment to these things.
“Tony?” She was looking at him curiously.
“Sorry, I just felt that I needed to promise God some things.”
“Something private?”
“Just seeing your joy in God... I've not been as close to God as I should have been recently. Worried about wedding photography and journalism, I think. Stupid time to drift away from God, in retrospect. I resolved to pray and study my Bible more regularly.”
“And the other thing?”
“I'm not sure I should say,” he said, hesitantly.
“It's about me then? I think I would like to know.”
“I want what's best for you, Teresa, with all my heart. Even if that doesn't include me.”
“That's not a chat-up line I've had addressed to me before. I take it you'd like my future to include you?”
“I would, but not if it's going to hurt you. I think you've got enough scars already.”
“So, you think you'd be wonderfully happy if we started going out, but you're prepared to accept that it might not be good for me, and so you're willing to forego your happiness for my benefit?”
“Perhaps a better way of putting it is that seeing the God-inspired joy on your face made me realise just how much I don't want to do anything that might take that from you. I don't want to rush you if you need us to go slowly, I don't want to go slowly if that causes you pain. I don't want to hang around if that holds you back in your walk with God.”
“Tony, you hardly know me. That almost sounds like you're gearing up to a proposal.”
“Maybe tonight would be too soon.”
Teresa laughed, then stopped herself. “That was a joke, right?”
“Not sure. See, I told you I shouldn’t have said.”
“Right, then let's get back on track. Any more questions for this interrupted interview?”
“Yes. You talked about them looking at someone’s evil? That's different to looking inside their skulls, I presume.”
“Yes. Far more dangerous too, apparently. He looked for about half a second and needed to rest.”
“You just dropped a pronoun.”
“You noticed! Good. I'm going to take unfair advantage of your declaration of love, in the full knowledge that if you write too much then I get in trouble. It's complex enough, so I thought I'd let you work out how much of this is publishable, or should be publishable, and how much is not. Actually, it could be verging on sub-judice anyway. Maybe I shouldn’t tell you anything.”
“Surely if you don't tell me details, then it should be OK?”
“Possibly... It depends on whether people can identify a witness in court from what you say that I tell you that they saw. Of course them being a witness depends on whether the government decides to pass a law that says evidence from thought-hearers should be admissible in court. But if you publish that a thought-hearer learnt of orders given in an identifiable specific case, you're in trouble, or even if you publish without the case being identifiable and then a thought-hearer testifies about that, then people might think: ‘Oh yes, I heard about this really nasty person who did that, this must be him,’ you're in trouble too. By trouble I mean that you're in prison for a while and unable to look after my best interests, and then where would I be?”
“I hope you'd be surrounded by supportive friends, but thank you for the thought.”
“So, should I tell you?”
“Yes, please. I can always put big brackets round it with 'is this sub-judice?' above it. Suggest they cut it out of the final version.”
“Yes. And you're going to let me make corrections, aren't you?”
“Yes, please. Another excuse for a meal.”
“You don't need excuses, remember? I've told you that we can spend time together. Though perhaps you'll wear your brother's generosity out if you eat there too often and keep the paying customers out of there.”
“That's true. And it'll reinforce opinions about us being an item.”
“Would you object to that?” Teresa asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Not if you don't. So, would you like to tell me too much information?”
“OK. I won't tell you who, or how often it happens, but I'll tell you that there was more than one gifted person in the Institute that day.”
“Oooh, finally! Can I ask you how many gifted people were there?”
“You can ask. I will try not to answer.”
“Why is the number a secret?”
“If some bad guy found out that a certain number of people with the gift worked at the Institute, instead of one in I'm not sure how many million, they'd be looking at one, two or ten out of a staff of twenty. Can you imagine the lengths they might go to to try and get rid of them?”
“Not really.”
“There have been other thefts of military hardware than the one that was used for the Clear Sky shopping centre attack. There would be lots of dead bodies, I think.”
“Ouch. You're serious?”
“There are people out there who don't like the idea of publication, we know that.”
“There have been threats?”
“Threats and actions.”
“But you can't elaborate?”
“I can't. You can take your pick of official secret or sub-judice.”
“You mean both? That there have been two attacks?”
“No comment. I actually meant that you could explain it to yourself as one of them. Tony, legal advice: if I say something is an official secret or might be, that means drop it faster than a hot coal. Don't mess with those laws, ever, please.”
“You're serious?”
“Very. I know things that you mustn't be interested in. If you pestered me about them then I'd need to report you. Not telling you about how many thought readers work at the Institute is a sensible precaution. If you don't know, you can't leak it by accident. Other things are client confidentiality. If I break that, then I lose my clients, possibly even my status as legal advisor. If I break the official secrets laws, then going to prison would be the least of the trouble I might expect. Letting on about some of the things I know might get me a long stay ticket to a high security prison, or possibly a government think tank if I'm lucky.”
“They can do that?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry. I didn't know our laws were that harsh.”
“They're not really harsh. If you prove that you can't be trusted to keep the secrets that keep people safe, then you can't be allowed to mix with people who don't know those secrets or you can only mix with people who can't do anything about them if they knew. They give people in the think tanks access to news, a useful job to do and so on, but they can't let them communicate freely with the outside world until the secrets they know aren't relevant or aren't secret.”
“OK. If you mention those words then I'll drop it. I don't want that happening to you.”
“Thank you, Tony. Me neither.”
“But you were saying what you could about using the gift to track someone's evil. Isn't that sort of thing covered by the ethical regulations?”
“Not really. They're not looking at the person's mind, after all.”
“No? Then what?”
“My personal guess is they saw a sketch-map of the person's worst sins, with annotations.”
“That sounds like a lot of information to process.”
“Yes. Five or ten times more than a deep scan of a person. They described it in terms of threads of different colours, intensities and thicknesses joining nodes together.”
“It sounds complicated.”
“Yes. But they were able to understand it, somehow. Orders given to such and such a gang to find a girl, rape and bury her alive, hang a certain person up by meat hooks in a disused warehouse, find someone and break their legs and leave them in a tunnel.”
“You're not making that up, are you? I could hear the horror in your voice.”
“No. I'm not. But it's almost certainly sub judice.”
“I expect so. But those crimes, those orders... torturing people to death, just randomly like that and hiding them? On one hand they seem like they're designed to shock but not to be discovered. What was it, an attempt to prove to the gangs that they're invincible?”
“I think they think that anyway.”
“You're sort of avoiding the question.”
“You do notice little things like that, don't you? Are you always like that? I mean, do you notice everything all the time, or can you turn it on and off?”
“I guess the latter. Nice diversion by the way. I guess I'm very focussed on what you're saying and how you're reacting right now.”
“I'm glad you can turn it off, it might get too much. I wonder why you should be so focussed on me now. Could it be hormones, do you think?”
“Teresa, do you want to end the interview? Just say if you do.”
“Sorry, I was experimenting on whether you'd get the hint that I didn't think it was a good subject to explore.”
“I guess I don't know you well enough to pick up on what you're trying to hint. Sorry. But I'm confused about something. You said that the man with the gift saw all this evil, and then had to rest? His brain was overheated?”
“Yes. What are you confused about?”
“How did the people get rescued? He talked about what he'd seen?”
“No, faster than that. Two of them together can do something they call linking minds. Apparently it really helps to have two minds looking at a set of memories, and it's not heat-inducing at all. He provided the memory of what he'd seen and who the target was, and she found out where the targets were.”
“I did wonder how Security had been able get hold of the information. I mean, the tip off that that girl got: ‘there's a gang across the valley from you who are planning to rape you.’ It sounded like either the gang must have been very lax about where they discussed their plans, or there was an informant among them.”
“Now you know.”
“Should I tell the world?”
“Thank you for asking. I don't know. As I say, it's probably sub judice, but if it's not, does it help you at all?”
“I'm not sure. You've said so much. I'm not really sure how to put it together.”
“So, you think you've got enough for your report?”
“Is there more I should be asking?”
“I suppose if you think of anything you can always call me.”
“I can't, you know. You've always called me ‘caller withheld’.”
“That's not very satisfactory if we're going to be talking a lot, is it?”
“So could I ask for your number? Did you do that deliberately?”
“Of course you can have my number. Did I do what deliberately?”
“Telling me to call you just now when I don't know your number?”
“No. I'd just forgotten that you hadn't asked. Honestly.”
“What was your lie? I meant to ask earlier but forgot.”
“My lie?”
“That you used to prove the gift. Do you remember it?”
“Yes. You want to hear it?”
“Yes please.”
“My name is Teresa Mary Riley. My father is an artist specialising in murals who's had work on show in several big art galleries, my mother is an exhibition arranger. When I was a child I went to St. Mildred’s School for the Gifted, and I then went on to study law. My parents live in The Manor, next to Manor Park, which we open to the public most days of the year. You've probably heard of its exceptional arboretum, which contains almost every tree native to this country. And so on and so on.”
“I've been to Manor Park arboretum. It does have that many trees, but I don't remember a manor house near it. Oh sneaky! The Manor is a road of smallish houses. So I doubt your parents actually own the park. Do they?”
“No. My Mum works part time in a florist's, my Dad is a painter and decorator who has helped paint the walls of several big art galleries. I did go to that school, but only one day. The whole thing is a fabrication.”
“And is your name Teresa Mary Riley?”
“Teresa Riley, no middle name.”
“But the strange thing is, I've heard or read some of that before. Oh! The pageant!”
“They actually published that pack of lies?”
“How would they know?”
“Doing some basic research?”
“Why did you do it? Lie at the pageant?”
“Because of the pompous organiser, who was certain there would be royalty there or something and so we shouldn't hide our claims to fame. Even had a special section in the application form. I didn't have any, so I um, embellished reality slightly.”
“Yes. Weren't you caught out by anyone?”
“Yes. It actually got me my first job.”
“Really? How?”
“They were from the area so they knew it was a pack of lies, but they said that if I could be so convincing under those conditions then they knew I'd be able to stand the pressure in court. They actually had me repeat it while hooked up to a lie detector. It didn't catch me, I'd rehearsed it so well. Do you have any claims to fame?”
“Not really. I almost got arrested for breaking a UN publication ban.”
“Yes. Would you like to make a sworn statement to me about that? I was serious.”
“If I voluntarily go forward for interview, do I get to have a lawyer with me?”
“I appoint myself if you'll let me. Special discount rates.”
“Might there be a conflict of interest there?”
“I don't think so.”
“So what do you recommend? The statement or the interview?”
“Statement and offer interview?”
“That sounds like a very reasonable idea.”
“Let's work on your statement then.”
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