Terminus by Joshua Graham Read Free Book Online

shrugged and smiled, covering what he was sure was discouragement and a touch of annoyance. 
    “You’d best be off, Nick.  You’ve got deadlines.”
    “About that.  You know, I still don’t—”
    But she vanished before he could finish the sentence.

10
     
     
    GETTING TO HIS FIRST ASSIGNMENT would have been instantaneous had Nick simply concentrated on the image of the subject’s face and teleported to Long Beach.  But he’d developed a certain taste for flying—not the way humans did, crammed in the bowels of an aircraft like sardines in a tin—but by himself through the sky with the wind in his hair, clouds misting his face, and flocks of startled birds exploding in every direction as he flew invisibly through their squadron at speeds only theoretical to humans.
    A trip from New York to Los Angeles took him six exhilarating minutes.  He arrived just outside the Aquarium of the Pacific, where the midday sun called for T-shirts, shorts, and sunglasses.  Not that anyone could see Nick, but he had them on too. He always blended in well just in case he had to interact with the humans.
    A cool breeze blew gently against his neck, and for some reason the sensation seemed more tangible than usual.  He rather enjoyed it.  Taking in the warmth, the breeze, and the people—mothers and fathers with their children going into the aquarium and coming out—he further surprised himself by smiling.  A refreshing change from the business of death, untimely or otherwise. 
    His smartphone chimed.
    A text from Lena. 
     
SUBJECT: Jonathan Hartwell, Long Beach, CA
ASSIGNMENT: Research routines, family, lifestyle.  
Prevent subject from his daily studies and routines over the next two weeks .
     
    Embedded in the text message was a photo of Hartwell, a good-looking bloke in his late thirties, dark brown hair, deep-set blue eyes, and the kind of smile that would make people want to talk with him about anything and everything over a cup of coffee.  He looked as friendly and trustworthy as they came. 
    But Nick knew better. 
    He’d read the dossier.
    The subject was a man of dangerous influence.  Wildly popular in the media, invited often to the White House to open important meetings with prayer, a bestselling writer, popular talk-show guest.  Unlike many a famous preacher before him, he was viewed by most Americans, believers or not, as a genuinely good person.  But he would ultimately lead thousands astray, altering their future  directly and even more indirectly.
    Just then, a loud shriek pierced the air nearly causing Nick to drop his phone and become visible.  Since his time in London at the beginning of the last century he’d been experiencing some difficulty on the invisible-to-mortals front.  A sudden shock or stress could make him slip.
    The shriek had been replaced by unbridled laughter.  A little boy about five or six years old hung by his feet in the air, his father swinging him around upside down. 
    “Faster, Daddy!  Faster!”
    And the man swinging his son over the concrete?  It was none other than Nick’s subject:  Jonathan Hartwell. 
    His wife Elaine made a shushing gesture with one hand while pressing a shiny white phone to her ear. 
    “Honestly, Lisa, I wouldn’t pay him another cent! If you keep giving them what they ask, by this time next year you’ll be paying a hundred dollars a week just to have them mow your lawn.  It’s robbery, and you don’t want to—”
    Another shriek.
    Elaine spun around.  “Jon, would you please put Matthew down?  Stop this foolishness now before you break his neck!”
    Hartwell complied.  Matthew whined.
    “Aw, Mom!” 
    Elaine put the phone back to her ear.  “Sorry, sweetie.  Call you back?  Love you, bye!”
    Hartwell and his son gave each other a furtive smile Elaine soon wiped off their faces. 
    “Did you ever think what people will say if the media gets footage of you making a fool of yourself in public?”
    “Come on, hon,”