Killer Geezer Read online

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Damn. He knew about the bad guys I’d incinerated using my pyrokinesis. Had he seen the recent Channel 13 report? If so, he knew this part of New Mexico now had six less murderous thugs than before. Why would he care about my removal of nasties?

  “I plead self-defense. In all five cases. And already there is talk of spontaneous human combustion being the cause. In four cases.” I looked intently at him. “Why do you care? Mr. Knutson.”

  “Call me Ansgar, please.” A focused, thoughtful look filled his face. “First, there have been maybe 150 cases of SHC in the last 2,000 years. Most of those cases were people setting their clothing on fire through neglect. A few were full body combustions similar to what you have done. But a human body is 60 percent water. It takes extremely rare circumstances to set someone aflame. Circumstances like us. And your local police forensic specialists will determine there was no acetone or liquid meth on the three robbers you incinerated today.”

  My gut felt disturbed. He’d been right. His news had messed with my digestion. “So? There is no video of me doing what I did.”

  Ansgar nodded slowly. “It was good you destroyed the security camera at the café.” He looked longingly at my beer, then at me, his manner serious. “Jack, if I may, it is not wise for people like us to display our powers in public. Especially at such a public place as the café where you ate your burger and fries.” He gave a quick half-smile. “It unsettles people.”

  My jaw tightened. “How do you know what I ate at the café?”

  Ansgar sat back, making a public effort to be relaxed friendly. “I could say I read it on the surface of your mind. But while I can do basic telepathy, I smelled it on your breath. As you should know by now, our normal five senses are operating very, very well. You’ve noticed, haven’t you?”

  He had a point. My strength had gotten a lot stronger. As if I could lift a regular person with one hand. My hearing and my eyesight were better than when I was a teenager. My smell ability was equally strong. Enough to tell me the aftershave worn by Ansgar was very expensive. The taste of food and beer was much richer. Anything I touched felt almost alive. And my horniness was totally awake. Being around professor Claudia had aroused me. Enough that I’d thought of a cold bath so she would not notice it. Hopefully.

  “I have.” He’d already answered why he was seeking me out. What else did I need to know? “Knut—uh, Ansgar, how many of us are there?”

  He nodded slowly. “Good. A basic question. You have lots to learn and one reason I am here is to bring you up to speed on what it means to have Transcendent abilities.” Ansgar waved at a passing waiter guy, pointed at my beer and showed two fingers. The waiter nodded, and headed inside to get two beers. Presumably one for Ansgar and one for me.

  “Well?” I said, prompting my mystery man.

  Ansgar smiled again, the smile very natural and very real. My views of him had split, with one eye seeing him in focused, natural form while my other eye saw him in unfocused, aura-glowing form. There were no streaks of black anywhere on him. He had not lied to me about anything he’d said since coming up to me.

  “I see your control is improving. First the barrier that came up, then your reading of my persona and now being able to see both normal and Transcendent.” His gaze sharpened. His expression went from casual relaxed to intently focused. As if lives depended on what he said. “Jack, you are the twenty-fifth Transcendent person in our present age. We are scattered all over the world. Nobody controls us. We have no council. We do, however, all agree on one thing. We all wish humanity to survive as a species. We like living a cultured life within a mostly peaceful world.”

  I frowned. Twenty-five people like me and Ansgar was not a lot. “Why so few of us?”

  He blinked, but his expression remained intently focused. “Another good basic question. It appears that three Transcendent persons appear per billion humans. World population now is 7.7 billion plus. So, there are now 25 of us.”

  I nibbled my lower lip. Then I finished my beer. “So there were a lot fewer of us in the past than now?”

  “Yes,” Ansgar said with a sigh. “Humanity only reached a billion persons in 1804. There were two billion in 1927. Since 1960 world population has grown rapidly. Hence, we Transcendents are adjusting to having . . . more neighbors like us.”

  I frowned. “So there were none of us a thousand, two thousand years ago?”

  Ansgar shook his black mane. “Wrong. While the world population in A.D. 100 was close to 300 million, and perhaps 10 million in 10,000 BC, there have always been at least three Transcendents throughout humanity’s presence on Earth.”

  Weird. And interesting. “How do you know that?”

  “For the deep deep past, my information is based on oral history and written sources handed down from Transcendent to Transcendent. More recent times I rely on direct knowledge.”

  Direct knowledge? That brought up another key issue. “Ansgar, how long have you lived? How long do we Transcendent folks live?”

  His intense focus relaxed a little. “Another basic question. Good. For myself, I first became self-aware in the year 1704. A.D. As for you, you will outlive your children and any future grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great grandchildren.”

  Shock filled me. I felt as dislocated as when I’d felt the white flash come over me on Delgado Street. I felt almost disembodied, as if I floated in space. Or space-time, I thought, as I recalled how I had slowed time behind the Greyhound station. The waiter came and delivered our two beers, pulling me back into the present. I lifted my beer, took a long draught and swallowed. “How is that possible? Are we immortal?”

  “No, we are not immortal.” Ansgar’s expression became sympathetic, as if he understood my shock. “Jack, have you Healed anyone yet?”

  “Yes. Two folks.”

  He sighed slowly. “Another power to be careful with. What did you feel, when you Healed?”

  “I felt healing energies flowing down my arm, into my hand and into the other person. Until they were healed. Then the flow stopped.”

  Ansgar looked me over, in a manner more evaluatory than judgmental. “That is exactly what I feel, the few times I have Healed another person. We Transcendents all feel that way when we Heal. Do you not think that healing power can fix any wound or illness you might suffer?”

  I hadn’t thought of that. But it made sense. In a weird way. “Okay. So if I burn my hand or break a rib, my inner energies will fix me up?”

  Ansgar took a sip of his own beer, his hazel eyes never leaving mine. “Tasty beer. I may order a case or two when I get home. And yes, your inner energies will do exactly that. And they will prevent you catching any disease, from the measles to the plague.”

  I recalled my encounter with the diseased mugger behind the Greyhound. “What about bullets? Or lasers? Or a sword?”

  His expression grew impatient. “You raised a barrier right after I approached you. That barrier does more than block unwanted intrusions on your mind, like one of us trying to read your thoughts. When you focus, your barrier can deflect any harmful object or energy.”

  “So I don’t have to worry about getting sunburned?” I said, laughing too loudly.

  “Jack, please take this seriously.” Ansgar looked around the Railyard, where a few dozen folks moved around, seeing what I saw, which were a mélange of people of all ages, both genders, most ethnicities and a variety of clothing styles. He looked back and pinned me with a stark gaze. “Other questions?”

  I licked my lips. This guy was here because I had created a white aura flare bright enough for him to see from far away. How far? “Uh, Ansgar, where do you live? Now?”

  “New York City, Manhattan, on the top floor of a tower that looks out on Central Park.”

  Damn. That sounded like expensive real estate. “And you saw my aura flare from that far away?”

  He nodded quickly. “I did. I got a better location fix when I focused on ‘seeing’ through my
Transcendent aura abilities. You can do the same.”

  Maybe. “Where are the other 23 Transcendent folks?”

  “Another basic question. There is TikQui Tok up in Alaska. Me in New York. You in New Mexico. Alicia in Costa Rica. Dominique in Brazil. And Alejandro in Argentina. The others are scattered over Europe, Africa, Asia and the Far East.”

  “Are they all as old as you?”

  “Some are older. Most are younger.”

  “How many females in our . . . group?”

  He lifted a black eyebrow. “Females outnumber us males. There are 14 women and 11 men. Now.”

  I felt puzzlement. “Why more women?”

  He shrugged. “No one knows. Just is. And the 25 of us come from all races and ethnicities. All of us have learned English over the years.”

  That made sense to me. English was the first language of science, with German being the second. Chinese might soon be the third language of science. “Are our powers passed on to children?”

  He gave me a quick smile. “We are all very normal sexually. We like loving companions.” Ansgar ran a muscular hand through his hair as if the mild wind had disturbed its perfection. “In the last fifty years there has been one case of a male Transcendent having a child with a female Transcendent. That child did not exhibit our powers. Her parents outlived her. To their sorrow. Same result for a Transcendent having a child with a normal female. So we all have learned. Sadly.”

  I suddenly realized something. “You said your ‘working name’ is Ansgar Knutson. Is that your birth name?”

  “It is not.” Ansgar looked down at the table top. One hand held the bottom of his beer glass. He was twirling the glass in a counter-clockwise manner. “Having the same name for more than 70 years draws official attention. In the last hundred years I have changed names twice. Becoming someone else, though, is getting harder thanks to global surveillance tech and facial recognition software.”

  “Where were you born?”

  Ansgar peered at me in a manner I’d not yet seen. It was a look both peeved and speculative. “Trieste. An ancient port city on the Adriatic Sea. When I was born the city was part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. I grew up speaking Austrian, Italian, Slovene and our local tongue Triestine.”

  Wow. Ansgar was not only highly cultured and rich, he was a linguistic maestro. I only knew a little Spanish and some French from the year I’d spent going to college in Paris.

  “That is remarkable.” I peered at the glossy shine of his classy suit. “Uh, what is your suit fabric?”

  Both eyebrows went up in clear surprise. “I was not expecting that question. It is silk. Why?”

  “Because I’ve never seen so much . . . so much silk. I’ve seen a few silk ties around here, worn by the PC rich guys. Never a suit.”

  He glanced down below the table, then up, his expression bemused. “Jack, your brown leather shoes are rather worn. As is your clothing. Are you pretending poverty to be less conspicuous in your Santa Fe?”

  Irritation hit me. Then realization. “No pretend. I live mostly on my Social Security income plus cash from a few odd jobs. I often visit second hand stores in town.” I looked him over, noting again the richness of his tie, his silk suit, his solid gold cufflinks, the perfect shape of his mustache and his hand-made shoes. “Why?”

  He blinked, then looked surprised. “Well, you are just three days into your powers. Perhaps you don’t realize it. But you, like me, have the ability to acquire cash. Lots of it.”

  Lots of cash? “I am not a thief. I kill deadly muggers. And I refuse to hold up a bank. Or break into a private home. How, then, could I acquire lots of cash?”

  Brief amusement flashed over his lightly tanned face. “It should be obvious. By using your powers. Our powers.” As I continued to stare, he sighed and sat back. He lifted his beer and took a long sip. His manner became casual. “Jack, every year the U.S. Federal Reserve system destroys about 5,000 tons of paper currency each year. Mostly bills under $100. Most of the old paper currency is shredded, with a small amount burned. The shredded money is sent to landfills all around the nation. There are 28 locations around the U.S. where old paper money is shredded. All any Transcendent has to do is to travel to such a location, watch the delivery trucks arrive and, when the back gate is opened to put bundles of cash on the delivery belt that goes inside, use your powers to teleport a bundle or two to your location. I’ve done it often since America began using a national banking system.”

  I recalled hearing a TV report that the Federal Reserve often orders more paper money removed from circulation than the amount of new money that is printed. Ansgar’s method sounded reasonable. Except for one thing. “But I can’t teleport. I’ve never moved myself to another location.”

  He slowly shook his head, the mane of black hair resembling the mane of a very smart lion. “Of course you can. Your movement of the beer glass is a form of levitation. When you mind-tossed one of the café robbers up against the ceiling, that was levitation. Levitation is just the local application of teleportation.” His expression went quite serious. “Jack, any place you have a memory of, you can teleport to. Your apartment. A grocery store. The top of a mountain you visited as a youth. Anyplace you have visited is a place you can think of, so your mind can take you there. Instantly. The only residue of using such a power is a mild sucking sound in the space you left and a somewhat louder gushing sound as your arrival pushes air away from the location you visit.”

  Wow. Double wow. I had thought pyrokinesis, levitation and my psychic melting down of a person were big enough powers. It seems there are more powers available to me. To me and people like Ansgar. “How, uh, how did I become a Transcendent? I visited a research psychologist in Albuquerque who checked my brain for tumors. She didn’t find any. But she did establish three lobes of my brain were bigger than normal.”

  Ansgar’s expression went suddenly severe. “Tell me who you visited, when and what tools she used on you. Now!”

  Anger filled his face. Ansgar was angry. And something else. A bit of curiosity was there, hiding behind his angry look. So I told him what I had done on Wednesday. How Claudia had used machines like PET, MRI and Transcranial Stimulation using SQUIDs. And that she had taken my blood to check my DNA profile.

  “Did I do something wrong?”

  He shrugged but stayed intense, leaning over his half-empty beer glass. When he spoke, it was much softer in tone, as if he did not want anyone else to hear what he said.

  “Not wrong. I cannot blame you for having a curiosity about your new powers. And medical science has learned so much about the workings of the normal brain. But.” He folded his strong hands together. “What did you do to convince her to examine you?”

  My earlier curiosity and puzzlement was now in the past. I had angered the only other person like me that I knew of. That made me both anxious and worried. “I just levitated her iPad over to me, then back to her. And I Healed a burn on her right hand when she slapped out a Kleenex I set on fire, on her desk. That’s it. I did not tell her about my people pyrokinesis or my psychic melt-down abilities.”

  “Good. I was concerned a scientist would extrapolate from you to the fact of many Transcendents.” A slight nod of his head came, but his intent focus on me had me wondering if he planned to teleport me somewhere. Without intending it I strengthened the invisible mind barrier around myself. “And while your barrier just hardened, do not be afraid. Of me. I am just concerned about other people knowing of your powers. Our powers. Our existence. Who else beside this scientist woman knows of your abilities? For real?”

  “Stella,” I said, speaking softly to match his tone. “She’s the founder of The Ark. It’s a local New Age crystal provider and bookstore that sells incense and other stuff. She told me about being almost blinded by my white power aura. And about Healers, none of whom she had met in her life.”

  “What ability did you show her?”

  “Levitation. Of her cash register. And I Healed a scar i
n her palm. By instinct.”

  Ansgar turned his focus inward. As if he were thinking hard about something. Then he looked me in the eyes and spoke firmly. “Jack, the Healing was natural to your ability to do it. Other folks will provide a simple explanation for it. Same for the levitation. But setting people on fire is not easily explained away. Nor is melting someone down. Those powers should be limited in use. Tell me, what other powers have you used since becoming Transcendent?”

  I thought hard. Then I recalled what I had done when the diseased mugger had fired at me. “I, well, I—”

  Empathy shone in his eyes. “Jack, it’s okay. All of us, when we first become Transcendent, are not focused on secrecy. All of us have made shows of some powers. Most shows are forgotten. The few times any of us have incinerated an evil person, it was either not seen by others, or entered the lexicon as spontaneous human combustion. And blamed on the victim.” He reached out and gripped my right hand with his right hand. That hand felt warm and strong. Also electrical and powerful in a different way. He gave me a slight squeeze. I did the same back to him. He continued holding my hand and caught my attention. “What other powers have you experienced?”

  I sighed, then let go his hand. I lifted my beer, took a sip and put it down. “I slowed time. I slowed down the bullet an evil guy shot at me in Albuquerque, after I’d visited Claudia. I deflected it upward. So my heart would not have a hole in it.”

  Surprise showed on Ansgar’s face. He nibbled his lower lip, making his black mustache ends quiver. A soft smile appeared. “Well, Jack, congratulations. Temperokinesis is a very rare ability among us Transcendents. I know of only one other who can do that. Alicia. And she says it has an aftereffect that is not pleasant. What happened when you slowed time?”