Schmitt slid the folder into his drawer and locked it with an old-fashioned key. “There’s a new theory floating around the department. Psychics notice big guns, big movements, and big threats. One person who just joins the group to find work and observe—a psychic won’t be watching for that.”
“I’ll only be observing?” Enzo asked.
“We won’t give you any specific details about your mission until you’re embedded. No firm plan that might ring warning bells in a psychic’s mind. You’ll be there for weeks without any support or instructions from us.” Schmitt gave an unconvincing shrug. “Maybe we won’t even ask you to do anything at all. As of now, you’ll just be another farm worker who’s getting up close and personal with Mother Nature.”
Enzo would need a way to protect himself. “What weapons will I have?”
“An empty gun and a backstory about being fired from your job. That way you’ll seem more authentic.”
No weapons. And he’d be going to a group that might have two Empowereds. If the harvesters had taken truckloads of goods from the slavers, they’d certainly have both weapons and ammo. “What if they have truth serum? My backstory won’t do me a lot of good then.”
Schmitt settled back in his chair in an unconcerned manner. “The government has a tight control on all of that, and none hasgone missing recently. But if you’re worried about it, make sure no one touches you.”
That might be easier said than done. Granted, shaking hands had disappeared from society a decade ago when the government first developed truth serum. Now people considered unwarranted touching as intrusive, aggressive even. If one person had it on their hand and touched the skin of another person, the second person would be compelled to answer any question put to them by the first. And nearly as important, the interrogator remained unaffected by the truth serum’s effects.
Enzo didn’t know anything about harvester culture or customs, though. Perhaps things were different there. Since they worked as a cohesive group, they might see someone who refused to touch anyone as suspicious.
“I’ll add,” Schmitt went on, “if this goes well, it’s the sort of mission that gets an officer promoted off the street and into a safe, high-paying office job.”
That was the carrot. What was the stick? “What if I don’t want to go and rub shoulders with the proudly illiterate?”
“You’re on probation. You don’t want any more black marks by your name.” He gave Enzo a pointed look. “Besides, what would your father have said about you passing up the chance to bring in a psychic?”
That was low. His father had been killed when a psychic told a terrorist breakaway group the location where the Kansas senators were gathered. The entire building had been reduced to rubble.
“I don’t know about my father,” Enzo said slowly, “but I can tell you what my mother would say if I took the job. In fact, I bet you she’ll tell you herself.”
Schmitt leaned forward and threaded his fingers together. “You’re the best one for the job, Vasquez. You’re smart, brave,and can think on your feet. And the icing on the cake—you’re a ladies’ man.”
Enzo’s head snapped back. Where had Schmitt gotten that idea from? Certainly not from his mother. “I’m definitely not a ladies’ man.” He had a no-dating policy. It’s what kept him sane.
Schmitt waved away his protest. “Well, you could be if you wanted. I hear the women in your precinct practically swoon when you walk by, and they have pet names for you.”
“They … they what?” No one had ever told Enzo this. Was it true?
“They call you Endzone because they all want to score with you.”
Enzo bit back a groan and rubbed his forehead. Now the way some of the guys razzed him made sense. Endzone. Sheesh. They’d told him they called him that because he’d played football in school. He would feel so awkward the next time he went to a precinct meeting.
“If one of the trio is a telekinetic,” Schmitt went on, “chances are two out of three it’s a woman. Both of them are beautiful. If I were a younger man, I wouldn’t mind taking the job myself.”
“You’re not that old, sir. And women take to a distinguished man like yourself.”
“I think you should accept the assignment,” Schmitt said with firmness. His gaze trained in on Enzo. “You know, I see Luciana Hodges from time to time. I would hate to tell her that you turned down an assignment to bring in a psychic.”
Enzo drew a sharp breath. Since Schmitt’s attempt to guilt him with his father’s memory hadn’t worked, he’d played a trump card. Luciana would’ve been his mother-in-law if Kitra hadn’t been killed in the building with their fathers that night.
Enzo would probably end up dead, but Schmitt was right. Enzo didn’t want Kitra’s mother to ever think he’d given up hunting Empowereds.
“Fine,” Enzo said. “I’ll go.”
6
Charity’s family sat underneath a tree on the edge of the farm, ostensibly for an early morning breakfast picnic. A poor cover story. Who would ever want to eat outside on a blanket? The nice thing about going home after a day’s work was that you were inside, without the bugs running into you and the wind blowing bits of leaves into your food.
“It’s time we put an end to any bad feelings between us,” her father said.
Milo’s lips pressed in a tight, unhappy line. Three weeks had passed since they’d been captured at the market, and although things between him and Zia had returned to normal that same day, Milo’s relationship with their father continued to be strained. Even Gregor couldn’t joke Milo out of his foul mood.