Free Full Moonster [BUREAU 13 Book Three] by Nick Pollotta Page A

often enough that I can recognize the signs."
    There was a respectful moment of silence from the team. Until only a few months ago, my lovely bride had been the top telepath in the Bureau, which meant the whole damn world. But after battling a fledgling god, she had been blasted into a normal human. She still possessed an eidetic memory, but her vaunted telepathic powers were gone forever, and nothing in Heaven or Hell could make them return. This I knew for a fact since I had personally asked the management of both places.
    Would it be the same as one of us going blind or deaf? I didn't know. Nobody but another telepath could know. But the hard facts were that all of her fellow mentalists were now dead, and it was only her debilitating handicap that allowed her to survive. What did my lady feel deep down inside, remorse, shame? Or was it envy?
    Impulsively, I reached out to touch her and Jess shied away concentrating on her driving, her features an iron mask of neutrality. It was at that precise instant I finally realized exactly how much my wife missed her telepathic abilities.
    "Well, if the situation ever occurs again, let's code name your tactic quote, Friendly Fire, end quote,” I suggested, lowering my hand. “That way, if you're a bit slower and one of us is a bit faster, we can avoid those expensive dry cleaning bills.” Brains were a really difficult stain to get out of a white line shirt, plus a tad disgusting.
    Frowning, George turned his head from looking out the window. “Jessica, exactly where are we going?"
    "Nowhere in particular,” she replied, keeping her eyes on the road.
    "Faith, lass, and why are we going nowhere so fast?” Donaher asked puzzled, glancing about outside through the windows.
    My wife jerked a thumb backwards. “Them,” she said.
    Reaching down, I jerked the lever underneath my seat and swiveled about. Amid the rest of the meager traffic, there were a couple of perfectly normal 18-wheel Mack trucks behind us.
    In a standard #2 surveillance formation. Oh fudge.
    Grabbing his rosary, Father Donaher started reciting a prayer of protection.
    Turning around, Katrina splayed a golden light from her wand about the van checking our defensive seals, and George activated the HumBug unit, a nifty little device we had stolen, er, borrowed got from the CIA. It made our car windows vibrate in an irregular ultrasonic pattern so that anybody using a maser beam couldn't hear our voices through the glass, also did a damn fine personal massage.
    "They've been following us since we departed West Virginia,” Jess announced, confirming the suspicion. “I decided not to tell you about them until everybody got a chance to recover from the sleep gas. Let you acclimatize and wake up."
    Even though annoyed, I growled that was a good idea. Coming awake groggy from the gas, I had almost shot my wife on sight. If she had been frantically yelling that we were being trailed by enemy forces...
    "Any hostile moves?” Mindy asked, her rainbow sword out and ready.
    Shifting gears again, Jess shook her head. “Nope. But where I go, they go."
    Sliding back a panel in the ceiling, Mindy liberated a pair of binoculars from the overhead weapons rack. “Okay, folks, the five trucks appeared to be perfectly ordinary tractor-trailer assemblies,” she announced, staring out the window. “A high riding 6-wheel cab, with 12-wheel trailers being pulled along behind. Different colors and different ages. Sides made of unpainted corrugated steel. No perceptible openings, presumably a double-door in the back. One has a compressed gas cylinder on the bottom. Must be refrigerated. There were a variety of company names on the trucks, and ICC numbers. Looks like a simple buddy convoy. Possibly a couple of independent truckers out on a TSD, or piecemeal run."
    "Faith, lass, I agree,” Father Donaher said. “Now could you try that again, in English, please?"
    "They look clean,” Mindy translated. “No obvious