Peter David - PSI-man 01 - Mind-Force Warrior.pdf - Peter David - margozap

SIMON SAYS

Provoke Chuck Simon the Complex told mob boss Tony. Push him. See if his power will

manifest.

Tony had pushed, all right. And the power had manifested into the hideous deaths of six

men.

Now, Chuck advanced on Tony, saying, "Simon says stand."

Pure mental force yanked Tony to his feet.

"Simon says die."

An invisible fist grabbed Tony and squeezed, collapsing his heart and lungs. Brain oozed

out of his ears . . .

PSI-MAN

Mind-Force Warrior

PSI-man

DAVID PETERS

CHARTER/DIAMOND BOOKS, NEW YORK

PSI-MAN

A Charter/Diamond Book/published by arrangement with the author

PRINTING HISTORY

Charter/Diamond edition/October

Cover art consultants: Hal Steiner, Certified Master Trainer, Owner of the Malibu Pet

Hotel,

Freeport, New York. (Canine consultant)

Robin M. Rosenthal, M.A. (Self-defense consultant)

This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part, by mimeograph or any other

means, without permission. For information address:

The Berkley Publishing Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New York,

New York 10016.

ISBN: 1-55773-399-

Charter/Diamond Books are published by The Berkley Publishing

Group, 200 Madison Avenue, New York, New York 10016. The name

"CHARTER/DIAMOND" and its logo are trademarks belonging to Charter Communications,

Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

October 12, 2021

THEY CAUGHT UP with him in Kansas.

Not that he knew that he had been caught up with. Hardly that. To him, Kansas, and this

particular town in Kansas by the name of Taylor's Point, was not much different from any of

the previous towns the circus had passed through.

Their stay at Taylor's Point had begun as innocuously as in the other cities. Innocuously,

that is, for the employees and inhabitants of the Four Star Carnival and Circus. For them it

was old hat. For the inhabitants of Taylor's Point, it was nothing short of miraculous.

Four Star's series of trucks, trailers, and transports had wended its way down the interstate

from its previous gig in LaPoint. It was a dazzling assortment of vehicles in various states of

disrepair. The best-working truck had a muffler with a hole the size of Sacramento. There

weren't all that many animals: a couple of lions past their prime, a fairly small elephant, a

couple of horses.

It was as if the circus itself was almost an afterthought, which it was. The main source of

revenue was the countless skill booths and the handful of rides, all neatly collapsible and

transportable. Four Star was a rolling testament to the American dream of cheesy family

entertainment.

All of the support personnel rode in a handful of Winnebagos. The hours of their transport

were long and gray, staring out at endless stretches of wheat fields and the like that suggested

an innocuous, innocent American spirit that had long since been ruthlessly stomped away.

Chuck stared out the window, his eyes locked on the skies. He rolled slightly back and

forth, swaying to the gentle motion of the van, staring upward. From behind him, further

back in the van, there was the familiar smacking sound of pasteboard on pasteboard, plastic

chips being tossed, and potato chips being crunched. The ongoing, ever-continuous card

game was in progress.

Chuck's square jaw rested on his hands as he stared toward the horizon. Apparently in his

late twenties, he was a disarmingly handsome man. His hair was jet black, as was the thick

beard he had grown in recent months. Originally his hair had been blonde, but his beard

always grew in very dark and he had taken advantage of that by dyeing his hair to match.

Anything to disguise his appearance.

He had snapping blue eyes that women found endlessly fascinating. His nose was slightly

irregular, the gift of a profound breaking while playing college football. He had high

cheekbones and neatly placed dimples when he smiled.

His forehead was fairly high, but it wasn't as if his hair were receding. He'd always had

that vast expanse of forehead. When he was a kid, the other kids said he looked dorky. His

mother said he looked scholarly. When he'd grown up his mother's opinion had seemed to be

the right one, although the occasional smart ass still looked into Chuck's shiny forehead and

smoothed their own hair as if consulting a mirror. Chuck would grin lopsidedly and bear

such foolishness. It did him no harm. "Kept him honest," as his father always said.

From behind him a voice called, "Jesus God, Chuck, what's the big fascination?"

He knew the voice as Paul's without turning around. "With what?" he asked.

"Outside. You always stare outside for hours when we travel, like you're waiting for a sign

or something."

The pasteboard slapping had sped up a little. That meant Dakota was dealing.

"No sign," said Chuck evenly. "Maybe just a break in the sky."

"Forget it," Dakota's lilting voice now came as the dealing ceased. "Forecast for today is

gray, followed by rain. Like yesterday. Like the day before. Like always."

Chuck turned away and walked slowly over toward the card players. He settled next to

Dakota. Chuck got along with everyone. It was his specialty. But Dakota he had a special

fondness for.

She studied her cards but shot a quick, friendly glance in his direction. "So the great

outcast finally deigns to sit with us lowly card players," she said.

He grinned. "Is that what I am?"

Dexter, bespectacled and lean, cautious to the point of distraction, methodically

rearranged his hand as was his ritual. "You never play cards with us," he said through his

nose.

"Man's right," said Harry, who rounded out the foursome. In contrast to the slim Paul

seated next to him, Harry was bulky and muscular. He worked out with weights constantly,

determined not to let the muscles he'd built up in his youth become flabby and unpleasant.

Harry was also the lion tamer for the circus, although that job held a minimum of danger.

The idea that the lions had any predisposition to attack Harry was ludicrous. Their main

concern was where their next meal was coming from, and the answer to that was, quite

simply, from Harry. They knew that. So to kill the meal ticket would be absurd.

Chuck got a little closer to Dakota. She was a compactly built woman, with long brown

hair that she was wearing up in a chignon. Her't-shirt hung perpetually off one shoulder and

her jeans were carefully ripped at the knees. Since Chuck had joined Four Star a month back,

there had been an innocent teasing relationship between the two. Chuck knew that Dakota

wouldn't mind in the least if it went further than that. In truth, neither would he. But a

relationship, particularly physical, was something he took quite seriously, and was not

something he would consider entering into transiently.

Right now, most of his life was transient.

A month was the longest he'd spent with any one group in quite some time. He wondered

how much longer it would last.

"I don't play cards, Dex," said Chuck evenly, "since I'd hate to take your money. Wouldn't

be fair."

"Ooohhh," said Paul in a loud, semi-mocking voice. "Not fair! Well, damn nice of you

watching out for us like that."

"No problem," smiled Chuck. He glanced at Dakota's cards. She dropped two and

replaced them with enough to give her two pair, jacks over tens.

He shifted his gaze to the stacks of chips as the game proceeded briskly. Within moments

Paul and Dex had dropped out, and Harry and Dakota were staring at each other over the

tops of their cards. Now Chuck's gaze flickered from one to the other.

Like a serene Buddha, Harry flipped two more chips in. "See your five and raise another

five."

Dakota looked in annoyance at her almost non-existent pile. "Crap, Harry, you know

that's more than I got. I can't see the bet."

"I'll take something in trade."

There were snickers from Dexter and Paul.

"Yeah," said Dakota, "I'll bet you would."

"Would you bet?" he asked, a rakish smile on his face. "Now that is the question. How

much is a night with you worth, Dakota?"

"More'n you've got," she replied. There was no heat in the response. They knew each other

too well for that. Harry had simply been trying to nail Dakota for months. An honorable goal

that she could respect. She wasn't all that interested in him, but then again she wasn't all that

disinterested. It was a question of just how far she was willing to go for a poker hand.

"Well, I'm betting more'n you've got, so we can call it even."

She tried to get a reading from his face, but there was no sign of expression. That usually

meant that he held a pretty good hand... indeed, that's why Dex and Paul had folded. When

Harry had a lousy hand you could usually tell. The whimpering was a tip off, for one thing.

The Winnebago rocked slightly under them as it hit a patch of unpaved road. Dakota

looked challengingly at Chuck. "Think he's bluffing? Think I can beat him?"

"You really want to know?" replied Chuck.

The question was so calm that she blinked slightly at it. "Yeah, sure. Really."

"He's bluffing. You can beat him."

"Oh really?" Harry said, his eyes peering over the tops of his cards. "What am I holding?"

"Garbage," said Chuck.

Dakota looked from one to the other. There was no trace of uncertainty in Chuck's face at

all. Surely it was a guess on his part, but he didn't act like it. "You sure?"

"Always."

"Got a lot riding on this, Chuck," she said. "My virtue is at stake here."

"Penny ante bet," suggested Paul.

She ignored him. "So you sure?" she asked again.

"Always." Just the same way as before, exact same tone, as if he were talking from another

country.

"Okay," she said, and "Okay," again as if to reassure herself. "Call. What've you got,

Harry?"

"Full house, kings over jacks," he said.

She closed her eyes in pain.

Dex glanced over at Harry's hand. "Bullshit," he said. " You've got garbage."

Paul snickered.

"Thanks, genius," said Harry.

"Garbage? Really?" said Dakota.

"Yeah, garbage, okay? Happy? Saaa-tiss-fied?" He tossed down the cards. "Busted flush.

Okay? Thanks a lot, Chuck," he snapped.

"What did I do?"

"I work for two weeks on my poker face and you friggin' tell her I've got garbage."

"You did."

"Who asked you?"

"She did."

"And how did you know?"

He smiled. "I did."

"Great."

"Would you like me to play a hand?"

"No, but I wouldn't mind backing the van over you."

And from behind them came a low growl.

Chuck's glance briefly flickered in its direction. "Quiet, Rommel," he said. "Harry was just

kidding."

Harry turned and gasped and jumped, knocking over the chips. "Jesus God! That

monster's in the van!"

"Rommel goes where I go," said Chuck calmly.

"Good. When you go to hell, take him with you."

Dakota hooted at that. "Some wild animal trainer. Afraid of a doggy."

Rommel padded forward from the shadows where he'd been lying with preternatural

quiet. He was big for a German shepherd. He was big for a horse, which is what he really

seemed like, and it was nothing short of astounding that he'd been able to lie there all that

time and attract no attention at all. His fur was light brown, except for a large black spot on

his back and a zigzag pattern on his forehead that had earned him his name.

"That's not a doggy," said Harry, shifting around so that his back was no longer to

Rommel. "I've driven smaller cars than that thing. That thing would scare my lions."

"So would a Girl Scout troop," said Dakota.

The Girl Scout reared back and threw.

The ball fell short of the cans and ricocheted harmlessly away.

Chuck smiled sympathetically. All around him now was the invigorating hustle and bustle

of the carnival. This was what had attracted him to this lifestyle. The carnival had a perpetual

small-time innocence about it, something that reminded him of what he had given up and yet

held out a hope for him, however vague, that somehow he might be able to recapture it.

He was surrounded by the familiar sounds, the shills trying to tempt men to display their

machismo for, the little ladies by purchasing three throws for a dollar and winning a

worthless stuffed toy. The distant music of the calliope, recorded and piped through speakers

since the real calliope had broken months before Chuck even joined Four Star. The constant

Peter David - PSI-man 01 - Mind-Force Warrior.pdf

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika: