“Silver called. He wanted me to be sure and have me contact the authorities and arrange protection for your family. And there's nothing really weird about our group. We're just people trying to survive. No one wanted this talent thrust on them. It just happened. And no one has any desire to exploit it. It's more of a curse than an asset, as you very well know. Some of our people ended up in sanitariums like you. Some committed suicide. And some hid their talent but secretly thought they were insane.”

“Until Michael Travis came riding to the rescue.”

“I tried to help,” Michael said quietly. “I've been there.”

She was silent a moment. “You did help me. And I never thanked you for it. I was just so angry and defensive about being shoved back into a sanitarium after spending all those years in a coma that all I wanted was a normal life. I didn't want to think, talk, or hear about anyone who was . . . like me.”

“But I think you're ready to hear about us now.” He chuckled. “And I consider it a breakthrough that you're admitting that you're not alone in this.”

“Then enjoy it. But I'll never join your little coven. I handle my problems myself.”

“So do we. And there isn't any real organization to our group. The cohesiveness is that we know we can reach out and talk to someone who understands. That's a blessing when half the time we're not sure we understand ourselves. We believe in independence and privacy too, and no one would think of violating that premise.” He paused. “Except when one of our members goes around the bend and threatens the rest of us.”

“Goes around the bend?”

“Some of us are more stable than others, as is true in any group. The balance is always more fragile when subjected to the strain we're under. And it's always possible that, if anyone started to spiral downward, they'd break confidence and subject us all to pain and humiliation.” He added ruefully, “The last thing we want is to have Newsweek trying to do an exposé on us.”

“And what do you do with these exceptions?”

He laughed. “Nothing lethal. God, you sound suspicious. We try to help them. We have one or two of the group make an attempt to help them come to an adjustment.” He added, “Most of the time we succeed.”

“And when you don't?”

“We ask Silver to come down from Washington and give it a try. If he's not busy on a project, he'll usually agree to help.”

“If? I'd think he'd drop everything. Isn't he one of your buddies?”

“No. We respect each other, but you can't call us friends.”

“But he belongs to your group.”

“No, he's like you. He doesn't want his independence compromised. I didn't find him, he found me. But unlike you, he wanted to explore his full potential. When I first encountered him, he was working in a think tank at Georgetown University, a top-secret privately funded project that was testing psychic abilities. He'd run across one of my less stable people who was turning psychotic. He called me and asked me if I wanted him to straighten him out. I was cautious, but I finally said yes.”

“And did he do it?”

“Yes. Jim's not entirely normal—who is?—but he's not going to end up in the loony bin. I'll take you to meet him, if you like.”

“Because Silver brainwashed him?”

“No, because Silver flushed out some of the poison and let him see clearer. He was careful not to hurt Jim in any way. That's why I feel okay calling him in occasionally.”

“I'd hate it.”

“Unless you were going bonkers. Jim has no resentment.”

“Maybe he would if Silver hadn't told him not to resent him. How do you know he didn't?”

“I don't. I don't know that much about Silver's talent. But I do know he's been a godsend. That's why I gave him your name when he came looking for someone who might help.”

“A return of favor. My head on a silver platter?”

“It seems intact at the moment.”

“But Laura's child is dead.”

“Yes, but it was Trask, not Silver, who was responsible. And I thought long and hard about giving your name to Silver. But I'm sure he told you about the urgency of catching Trask before he sells information to another power.”

“Yes. He also told me his brother was murdered by Trask.”

“Half brother. But I believe they were very close. He's been a driven man since Devers's death.”

She remembered the cold ferocity of Silver's expression. “I can believe that.” She paused. “He made me a promise not to . . . interfere with me. Can I trust him?”

He hesitated. “I think so. He's a wild card, but he's always been straight in our dealings.”

“That's not very comforting.”

“It's the best I can do.” He paused. “Besides, you're an independent lady. You always like to make your own judgments.”

“Can I stop him if he doesn't keep his word?”

“Maybe. If you concentrate. If you try to sense any intrusion and repel him. You're very strong. It's possible.”

“Thanks a lot,” she said sarcastically.

“It's all I can give you. As I said, I'm not that familiar with his talent. He doesn't talk about it. He just goes to work and does it. But it would be more comfortable if you'd try to trust him.”

“Like trusting there are no land mines in Afghanistan?”

He chuckled. “You're probably a little safer than that. Do you want me to talk to him?”

“Would it do any good?”

“Probably not.”

“Then just be on call in case I find I can't stand Silver and need you to send someone else like him to help me.”

“There is no one like him. I've never run across another controller. He's unique.”

“In more ways than one. Good-bye, Michael. I wish to hell you'd never given my name to Silver.”

“Do you? But then you'd never have known about Trask. All your life you've been hating and fighting those sickos who start the fires and now you've met the king of them all. Isn't there just a little adrenaline rush at the thought of bringing him down?”

Adrenaline? She remembered the feeling of filth and horror she'd experienced when she was hurled into Trask's world. They were emotions she'd never felt before. No, she wasn't eager to go through that again, even though she knew she had to do it.

It wasn't the rush of adrenaline she was feeling.

It was fear.

5

Trask was driving through Atlanta when his phone rang.

“I haven't heard from you in over a week,” Ki Yong said when Trask answered. “I believe you're abusing my patience.”

“I've been busy.”

“So Dickens tells me. He's getting very nervous.”

“That's his problem. You promised me a professional and I expect professional behavior.”

“He came highly recommended.” Ki Yong paused. “I understand you have certain priorities in the United States, and you can't say I'm not cooperating. But I have pressures from my superiors. They want delivery of Firestorm—soon.”

“They'll get it.”

“Not if you're dead or captured. You're playing a dangerous game. It's not as if I haven't offered to totally take over your agenda there. I'd put all my efforts into winding up those loose ends for you. I want you out of the U.S. and safe.”

Safe? Ki Yong wouldn't give a damn about Trask's safety once he got his hands on Firestorm. That's why he'd had to be so careful. “Dickens is enough help. I don't want anyone interfering.” And cheating him and the child out of the pleasure they deserved. “It won't be too long now.”

“There comes a point when patience gives way and the price becomes too high.”

“Not for Firestorm. I showed you what it could do on that island in the Pacific. As I remember, you were very impressed. You told me it would take years for that island to be anything but a burned-out shell.” He decided to take the offensive. “So don't try to bluff me. You want it and you want it bad. I'll call you when I'm ready to leave.”