Page 15 of So Silent

“Sure,” Faith replied. “That’s fine.”

He smiled softly and set the card down on the table. It was a green four-by-six rectangle of cardstock with a simple typed message that instructed Maria Gonzalez to report to Lab B-131 at eleven a.m. on December first for her voluntary research examination. The examining doctor’s name was Dr. Gregory Tate.

Underneath the reminder was a note quickly jotted in ballpoint pen. Don’t let me forget this!

Faith took pictures of the postcard with her phone, then nodded at Hector. “Thank you. This really will help.”

“I’m glad,” Hector said. “Hey, I know you guys can’t give me five minutes alone with the guy, but can you at least call me and tell me when you get him? Or her, or whoever it was? I just want to know that my sister’s been avenged. Can you do that for me?”

Technically speaking, that was a breach of policy, but it was a rule Faith felt comfortable breaking in this case. “Sure. I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you.”

Hector looked down at Turk and ruffled his fur softly. “She would have loved you. She always liked dogs.”

The three agents left the grieving man. Faith contained her excitement until Michael pulled away from the house, but when she confirmed with the university that Rebecca Wells had participated in the same study, she pumped her fist.

“Good news?” Michael asked.

Faith looked up the University’s staff directory as she replied. “Yep. Rebecca Wells was part of the same study. And… Dr. Tate is still employed with the University.”

Michael grinned. “Shall we pay the good doctor a visit?”

“I think we should.”

As Michael drove them to the University, Faith thought of Hector, who would probably never fully recover from the loss of his sister. She couldn't give him Maria back, but she could find him closure.

We’ll get this guy, Hector, she promised. We’ll make sure he doesn’t hurt anyone else.

Chapter Seven

The improvements on the apparatus pleased the killer, especially now that the killer could cover it entirely with a baseball cap. There were a few of its elements that pressed against the scalp uncomfortably, but that seemed a small price to pay. You’re… going… to… die… Emily… Chen. The killer thought the words slowly and distinctly.

Emily continued to walk directly ahead without looking behind to see who had threatened her. The apparatus worked perfectly. She couldn’t hear anything.

She’d been able to fool the killer in the past, pretended effectively that she couldn’t hear when she quite obviously could. This time, though, there was no doubt. There was not even the slightest reaction or hesitation, which meant it had been perfected. The killer’s thoughts no longer belonged to anyone but the killer.

The killer thought the words again. A smile spread across the killer’s features, and this had nothing to do with the machine blocking Emily’s power to hear thoughts. The smile came because it was true and not just a shocking statement to provoke a reaction.

Emily Chen would die. She would die, and along with her would die her impossibly acute hearing, hearing so powerful it couldn't be natural human variation. The killer's mind flitted through the various theories already considered. They ranged from alien abduction (which was dismissed out of hand) to clandestine government super soldier experimentation (which still seemed the most likely.) At this point, the origins of the power didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was its neutralization. Destroy before being destroyed.

Emily turned to admire a display in the window of one of the many boutique clothing shops that lined the street. The killer moved past her without looking her way. There was no need to follow her anymore. The killer had confirmed that the device worked. There was no fear of being discovered. Tonight, when Emily returned to her neighborhood, the killer would blow his whistle and exploit Emily’s own vulnerability, one she shared with all like her, one that gave the killer a chance at ridding the world of this threat before it overcame them.

The killer wondered when the government would realize its soldiers were being killed. Eventually, it wouldn’t be so simple as blowing a whistle and picking off operatives one by one. Eventually, the real war would start, and when it did, the killer would need more than a few electrodes, a dog whistle and a knife.

But for now, this was enough. Let them know they were vulnerable. Let them know they couldn’t hear everything. Let them know that the killer could strike back.

The killer paid the meter, stepped into his car, started the engine and pulled smoothly into traffic.

The killer thought the words again and smiled. You’re going to die, Emily Chen.

The killer checked the rearview mirror. Emily continued to walk, oblivious to the shadow of death that had fallen upon her.

Chapter Eight

“Lab B-131,” Faith said. “We’re here.”

The building was industrial in design, a typical concrete tilt-up construction probably built in the very late 1990s or early 2000s. It seemed stark for a university. On the other hand, it seemed appropriate for a research lab.

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