I'LL BE RIGHT HERE
Chapter Seventeen
"The only thing greater than the power of the mind is the courage of the heart."
(From: 'A Beautiful Mind'.)
-x0x-
Now…
Shawn leaned his forehead against the two way mirror, wishing he could slip right through it. There was no doubt in his mind that it was safer on the other side. Meek was beginning to scare him in a way he really didn't want to think about.
At least he had finally found Dennis.
The looking-glass room beyond had silver walls and very little furniture; a desk, a chair, a bookshelf and a narrow bunk. Much like Yoly's cabin, it felt impersonal and cold. The floor and the desk were littered with sheets of paper, some in crumpled balls and all of them covered with spidery writing. Cal and Dennis sat together on the bunk with their legs sticking out, like two children on a playdate. They were deep in conversation and seemed relatively calm.
Having gleaned all this information in a couple of seconds, Shawn stole a precious moment to reflect upon his own situation. Meek was a nut job – that much was obvious. But he was clever too, and deeply suspicious. Shawn would need to give a flawless performance if he was going to convince the man that he had honest-to-goodness psychic powers.
Was it worth it?
Yes, he thought vehemently. Snarky humour and an awesome head of hair were simply not enough to save him or to help the others. Toying with Meek was dangerous but necessary. He would have to maintain the psychic ruse. Starting now, he would have to be better.
Shawn closed his eyes and took a deep breath, looking slightly pained. "Oh," he mumbled. "Ohhh…" The shiver was real. It was no warmer down here than up on deck. Choosing to lead with the guesswork that had kept him from a watery grave, he turned his head, his eyes still closed. "I sense… a lie."
"I sense that too and I'm no fortune teller," Meek said evenly.
Smartass. Nettled by the other man's complacency, Shawn opened his eyes again and fixed his gaze ever so slightly to the right of Meek's own face. It was a game he had played at school – very disconcerting to his teachers, he had gleefully discovered. Meek tried to move back into Shawn's line of vision but it shifted again; a childish but effective way to unsettle the agent. "Someone here is not who they appear to be."
There! There it was. An unconscious movement; the tiniest turn of Meek's head towards the window. So he wasn't hunting alien technology. He knew that Cal was human. Of course he did.
Shawn latched onto the information greedily. He glanced back at the room and its occupants. Cal was waving his arms around emphatically, more like a professor lecturing a hall full of students than a stranger chatting with his new found friend. Shawn was captivated by his hands, with their short, stubby digits and bitten-down nails. There was something he ought to remember. Something…
No. Time was up. Letting go in the hope that the unseen connection would come to him when he needed it, Shawn took a calming breath. Since his finger-to-eyebrow device was out of action, he offered up a smile that was loaded with psychic smugness.
"You know Cal isn't an alien." It wasn't a question.
"As do you."
"Then what are we talking here? 'A Beautiful Mind'?"
"Do all your 'special insights' come from movies?" Meek's tone was scathing. But an insult was not a denial, and his jaw was tightly clenched.
I'm getting to him, Shawn thought proudly. "If it makes you feel better to think that. Or maybe I really am psychic." He watched his friend through the glass as he continued. "Dennis wants to believe in your Starman. That's another movie reference, by the way, in case you missed it. I bet you realised he would when you saw his special room. You put him in there with Cal to feed the delusion, hoping their conversation would reveal the information you're so desperate to find. It's a fishing trip." Biting his lip, he turned back to Meek. "How much does Dennis remember?"
"Very little at the moment." Meek narrowed his eyes. Shawn didn't like the look upon his face. It made him feel insignificant and small, like a bug under a microscope. "As opposed to you. Why is that, Mr. Spencer?"
"I told you not to underestimate the power of my mind. That's science, man. Phsysics." He gave a tug on the tie that bound his hands together, hoping to change the subject. Shawn had an endgame in mind and he was circling around it, getting closer all the time. "Any chance of undoing this? I really, really need to scratch my nose. Unless you're offering…? No? Guess not. So, where do we go from here, Eddie? Is this the part where you tell me all about your cunning plan?"
"Before I kill you?"
"Oh!" Shawn's exclamation was involuntary. "You're kidding, right? Of course you are. You need me; we established that."
Meek pulled out his weapon, like the caricature of an agent Shawn suspected him to be. "Did we really?"
"Okay, okay." Wishing yet again that he could raise his hands, Shawn backed up against the glass. "I know you're just trying to make a point but you need to be careful waving that thing around. It could go off by accident, and this is my favourite shirt. It wouldn't look half as good with a big red hole in it. Been there – don't want to repeat it."
"I have no problem with that." Meek shrugged.
"And I believe you." All or nothing, Shawn decided. "Look. You want to know if I can solve your little problem? Fine." He tilted his head in the direction of the hidden room. "I'll go in there. You can watch me – I don't care. I have the spirits on my side. I'll get your information and then you can let us all go, right? Dennis, Cal, the crew. Me…" He kept his face innocent, trusting. Naïve. "You know you want to. I know you want to." Keep pushing. "Psychic, remember?"
Meek stepped forward, jamming the muzzle of his gun into Shawn's gut and leaning so close that the heavy scent of sandalwood was sickening. If he was lucky enough to have a future, Shawn knew he would hate that smell forever. "Bit excessive," he murmured. "What's your point?"
"I should have thought that was glaringly obvious. I don't like you, Mr. Spencer. I don't trust you." The gun pressed harder. Shawn squirmed uncomfortably.
"S'mutual," he confessed. "Are you shocked?"
"However," Meek whispered into his ear. He dragged out the pause, enjoying his moment. Shawn waited, still twitching. "I think I understand you," the agent said finally.
I hope you don't, Shawn thought with growing unease.
The gun pulled back and so did Edgar Meek. The man was smiling; a wolf disguised as a chipmunk. "You're full of bravado. You crave attention. Everything seems to be all about you. But that's not true, is it? You actually care. And that's your weakness."
"I thought my weakness was delicious flavour. And bunnies, of course." And Juliet. Shawn's eyes were lowered. He had the strangest feeling that Meek could see right through them. He also knew in his heart where this was heading and it terrified him, but he couldn't show it. Instead, he released his pent-up emotion in a long, slow breath, then raised his head and stared at the agent, hoping his expression was unreadable. It was a trick his father had taught him long ago; a way to hide in plain sight. "I understand you too, Eddie. It's not hard; you're kind of a cliché. I mess up, you take it out on Dennis. That's what you're telling me, right? He's the guy with the red shirt. He's the pawn in your crazy chess game. He's the innocent guy in this whacked-out psychodrama of yours. Well, I'm not going to mess up, 'Agent' Meek. I know what I'm doing. So you can put that gun away and let me show you."
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A/N: The game 'Eyes Right' comes from 'Grinny' by Nicholas Fisk.
SugarandIce, I couldn't reply to your guest review in person so I'll say 'thank you' here!
If you like this story, why not check out my three new one-shots: 'So Close', 'Guess Who's Coming To Dinner' and 'Bear With Me'? There'll be another one on the way shortly - a Shawn and Gus special this time. I'm getting slightly addicted to writing about these characters.