Free Triggers by Robert J. Sawyer Page A

he’s not the person reading the president?”
    “What’s that?” said Seth. “Somebody’s reading
my
memories?”
    Susan nodded. “We think it’s possible, sir. We’ve locked down thehospital because of it. Don’t worry—no one is getting in or out.” She turned to Singh. “But it isn’t this Adams who is reading the president, right?”
    “He certainly has given no indication of that,” said Singh. “We don’t have a lot of data yet, but it seems the links are not reciprocal. Rather, they appear to form a chain. The president is reading Kadeem Adams; Kadeem is reading you, Agent Dawson; you are reading me; and I’m reading Dr. Lucius Jono.”
    “So then this Jono is the one reading the president?” Susan asked.
    “Let us hope,” said Singh. “We don’t know how long the chain is, or whether it closes into a circle. However, from what I’ve seen, the linkages are first-order, shall we say? That is, you can remember what
I
remember, but you can’t remember through me to what Dr. Jono remembers, isn’t that right?”
    Susan frowned. “Yes, I guess that
is
the case. I can’t recall any of this Jono person’s memories.”
    “And, Mr. President, is it safe to say that you recall what Private Adams recalls, but not what Agent Dawson remembers, even though she is the one Private Adams is reading?”
    Jerrison considered, then: “Yes, that’s right. Even looking at you, Susan, I can’t recall your memories.”
    “Okay, good,” said Singh. “At least we don’t have a cascade.” A pause. “I would like to speak to Private Adams and see how accurate the president’s recollections are. If you’ll excuse me for a few minutes…”
    Susan nodded, and she moved aside so he could leave the room.
    Seth was grateful for a chance to stop talking—it was all so much to take in, and he was more exhausted than he’d ever felt in his life. Sheila came over and adjusted one of the drip bags attached to his arm. He looked over at Susan and saw her touch a finger to her earpiece. “Copy that,” she said at last. She then looked at Seth. “I’m sorry, Mr. President. We didn’t tell you yet that the would-be assassin is dead. But they’ve positively ID’d the body now, and—” Seth saw her glance at RogerMichaelis, who looked shocked; he’d presumably just heard the same thing Susan had through his own earpiece.
    “Yes?” Seth prodded.
    “It was Gordon Danbury,” Susan said. “He was one of us—a Secret Service agent.”

CHAPTER 11
    ONCE he’d left nurse Janis Falconi, Eric Redekop went by his office and got his Bose noise-canceling headphones. He’d originally bought them for long flights, but now used them at the hospital when he needed to sleep. Eric liked to sleep on his side, and he’d thought there’d be no comfortable way to wear the headphones when doing so, but the hospital had a supply of donut-shaped pillows for people with broken tailbones or hemorrhoids to sit on, and he’d found that the hole nicely accommodated the large earpiece.
    He headed down to the staff sleep room on the first floor, turned the headphones on, turned off the lights in the room, and lay down on one of the cots. He’d hoped to fall right to sleep, but…
    But being here, on his side, in a semifetal position, made him think of…
    …of lying next to a man like this, turned away from him, trying to pretend the man wasn’t there, and—
    And it was Tony Falconi, Janis’s husband. She lay like this every night, trying to ignore him, hoping he wouldn’t touch her, wouldn’tinitiate the ninety seconds of pounding away that was his idea of sex, wouldn’t leave her unfulfilled.
    Damn it, damn it, damn it. He did
not
want to know any of this. He had no idea what the hell was going on, but—
    But there had to be a rational explanation.
    He was so tired—the surgery on the president had been grueling.
    The headphones were doing their job—eliminating the actual background noise of the hospital. But the