I am in Arizona. The trip was long, Paris, Philadelphia, Phoenix then Yuma. 18 hours of travel, I’m dead tired and the heat is overwhelming. The rest of the team should reach me by the end of the day.
I was in France when Falconi called me. The whole team has been ordered to cease ongoing missions and come here immediately. The coded documents that reached me during the flight just tell me the coordinates of this location and the name of the guy who needs, how can I put it ‘convincing’. The limited information available to me indicates that it will be a peaceful, yet persuasive mission to recruit an aggressive biker. To my knowledge he is not endowed with a special ability and does not represent a danger to the Organization. In fact, apart from a photo of a bald, bearded guy, the record is rather empty.
This is the first time that so many psychics would be gathered for so little. I did not mind. Tomorrow evening, we had to go to a bar to find this guy with a sweet nickname ‘Jefe Muerto’. Im excited in advance of the thought. A testosterone filled, alcohol fuelled venue and in the air good old fashioned rock. I can already hear the song in my head ‘Born to Be Wild’ by Steppenwolf.
As in many places, the desert is gaining ground. Many Mexicans cross the border because the environmental changes have destroyed their means of production. Some find hope in emigration. I am not sure that the desertification stops at the borders of the richest countries, rich people are on the move too. I feel strange, sometimes parts look more like the world of ‘Dune’. A hostile desert without water, the precious water we waste without thinking in the most developed countries. No crops, no vegetation, not even a worm. The only worm I found was macerated in a bottle of Mescal.
Yesterday evening, I met a charming American girl. Her name was Amanda and she was heading to Las Vegas. She thinks that luck will be with her and a life full of fortune and adventure awaits. I spent the night with her. She had nice smelling perfume, smiled a lot and talked all the time. A nice girl! I almost regretted thinking of ‘Ivana’ while having sex with her.
After Falconi and John Younes joined me yesterday evening, Ares arrived with 4 psychics, none of which I know. They looked like a rock band. A mercenary who seemed threatened, another guy playing the part of a mysterious man with a guitar case, a white-haired Asian and a German girl with a kind of ‘High Tech’ hair style. I’m curious to know the extent of the talent of the last 4. For Ares, I know. He refuses to die and if he does, he comes back to life! At least that’s what legend claims.
Falconi announced that the appointment had changed a few hours earlier. We are now close to Phoenix. Night falls and the heat is finally dropping. The new place looks like a stereotypical biker bar. A desert location with Dozens of Harleys parked outside the entrance. Images came into my mind. ‘From Dusk Till Dawn’ began just like this. I wondered if the regulars here would turn into vampires, thirsty for fresh blood. Anyway, Id have the last laugh, as shortly before coming here, I ate snails with garlic butter. They were particularly delicious. With any luck, my skin still oozes ‘garlic’ and will repel and would be vampires.
Message to Santanico Pandemonium, the dancing vampire played by Salma Hayek in the film. If you’re here, and dance anything like in the movie, I’ll probably let you eat me!
Funny night! Not one of the team was expecting that. Our group of psychic-rock stars had risen to the occasion. They managed to first cause a bar brawl, then stop it by influencing customers. A great moment worthy of a B movie. Most surprising however, was Jefe Muerto’s reaction. Our orders were to tell him about the existence of the Organization and use our psychics for ‘demonstrative’ purposes. He just finished his beer and then returned to the stage to sing, as if nothing extraordinary had happened. His cynical attitude surprised everybody.
As we got up to leave the bar, he shouted to us through his microphone, stopping his song. A heavy silence fell. ‘Hey, drivers, wait for me outside. I have to talk to you.’ Just before he met us, I discreetly asked one of our psychics to take advantage of this relative calm to search his thoughts. ‘Puppets of the Organization, your show is finished. Invite me to the next one. Your just cattle with exceptional gifts’.
When Jefe Muerto appeared, Falconi dangerously approached him. Suddenly, five shadows turned into heavily armed men, came from nowhere, dissuading Falconi from moving further. With a predator’s smile on his lips, Jefe Muerto said. ‘You’re not here to recruit me!’ Our attention was drawn to his confident words. ‘I know more about you than your own mothers … Ive read your files! And you can stop any attempt of intrusion into my head, it’s useless. I took my TIK medication before coming.’
A Few hours later, we all found ourselves in their headquarter near the Mexican border in a place were I couldn’t imagine you would find a house. Like in our base, the ‘visible’ house was only there to hide what was underground. Their attitude is similar to ours. The security protocols and certain procedures clearly indicate that we are working for the same people. The Organization holds more secrets than I imagined. Jefe Muerto and his group are coded by the wild surname “Los Muertos”. Watching them, nothing seems to distinguish these guys from a bunch of American bikers. Many of them are of Latin in origin. They have access to information, gadgets similar to ours and strange psychics. Jefe Muerto continues. ‘The U.S. arm of the Organization was founded in 1998, and I know that other teams exist outside of ours and this… You will understand for security reasons, I cant tell you any more about’. With eyebrows raised he adds, ‘Otherwise, I would have to kill you all.’
Jefe Muerto taught me that some influences on non-psychics by psychics gives amazing results. Many members of his group are ‘linked’ to a specific psychic. The effect is realized by increased perceptions of the non-psychic and a perfect isolation against any other psychic influence. His men say that they have a feeling of security and certainty that has nothing to do with that of any anti-psy TIK. No paranoia, no inhuman coldness, only perfect completeness.
‘The concept of a soul-sister has tested a lot of us,’ said Jefe, smiling, ‘but alas, this is not always the case! Sometimes this psy-affinity occurs in people who do not appreciate each other. We believe that your 4 psychics, are perfect for 4 of my men.’
‘I see no point trying to force your team members. They will have to learn to know each other and work together. However, results are generally quite fast.’ Everything begins to make a little more sense. We are not here to convince, but to learn from him. Although he told me that a ‘perfect union’ between psychic and non-psychic are not usually romantically based, I can not stop thinking that Ivana could be mine.
‘There is one snag’, continued Jefe, ‘This is that when 2 people are in union, what affects one, affects the other. Damage to one will inflict injury on the other. I lost a man and his psychic during a mission once. When I checked, I saw that a bullet had hit my guy but not his psychic. However, she lay motionless, dead like him. Their union was their downfall.’