Triggers

She glanced around, as if this was something she’d been trying to keep under wraps, then said softly, “Yeah.”

“Who are you linked to?”

“His name’s Josh Latimer. He’s a patient here, waiting for a kidney transplant.”

“Ah.”

She looked at him. “How’d you know I was affected?”

It was his turn to look around, but the guy he’d spoken to was now talking to the person behind him, and the woman in front was wearing white earbuds; she seemed oblivious to their conversation. “Because,” he said, “I’m reading you.”

Jan immediately dropped her gaze.

“So,” said Eric, “um, are you in a hurry to get home, or…?”

She didn’t look up, but she did reply. “No,” she said. “I’m not.”

Chapter 26

Bessie Stilwell left the president’s room accompanied by a Secret Service agent. Once she was gone, Seth asked for Professor Singh to be brought to his room.

“Mr. President, what can I do for you?” Singh said, upon arrival.

“I take it you’ve worked out all the linkages, right?”

“Yes, sir. We’ve got a chart.”

“So, I can read Kadeem, Kadeem can read…Susan, is it?”

“Yes, that’s right. And Agent Dawson can read me, and I can read Dr. Lucius Jono, who helped save your life. Dr. Jono can read Nikki Van Hausen, a real-estate agent. And so on.”

“And Darryl?

“Agent Hudkins? He’s the one who can read Bessie Stilwell’s memories.”

“No, I mean, who is reading him?”

“Maria Ramirez—the pregnant lady.”

“Good, okay.” A pause, then: “How do you remember all that?”

“I wouldn’t be much of a memory researcher if I didn’t know various tricks for memorizing things. A standard method is to use ‘the memory palace.’ Take a building you know well and visualize the things you want to remember inside that building in the order you’d encounter them as you actually walked through it. In this case, I think of my own house back in Toronto. There’s an entryway, and I picture myself there, making me the starting point. In the entryway, there’s a door to the garage. I picture Lucius Jono—who’s got crazy red hair—in a clown car in there, with a bunch of other clowns, but he’s trying to get out, because it’s dark in the garage, and he wants to be in the light; ‘Lucius’ means ‘light.’ Next to that door is a small washroom. Lucius Jono can read Nikki Van Hausen, and—well, forgive me, but I think of rushing to the washroom in an emergency, and making it in the nick of time. A play on her name. Next to the washroom is the staircase leading up to my living room. Nikki can read the memories of Dr. Eric Redekop, the lead surgeon. I picture bodies stretched out on each of the four steps, and him operating on all four of them simultaneously, scalpels in each of his hands, and also, monkeylike, in each of his feet, as well.”

“Good grief!” said Jerrison.

“The more bizarre the image, the more memorable it is.”

“I suppose,” Seth said. “Anyway, I need your help. There’s something important I have to recall but can’t.”

“One of your own memories, or one of Private Adams’s?”

The question would have been nonsensical just twenty-four hours ago, Seth thought. “One of my own.”

“Well, I understand they’ve located the woman who was linked to you—Mrs. Stilwell, I believe. Perhaps she can recall it?”

“No. I already thought of that. She can’t. So I was wondering if your equipment could help either her or me to dredge it up.”

“What was the memory?”

“A conversation I overheard.”

“Forgive me, but can you perhaps be more specific?”

Seth considered how much to tell Singh. “I overheard one end of a phone conversation—Leon Hexley, the director of the Secret Service, talking on his cell.”

“Well,” said Singh, “if it had been me, that’d be an easy memory to isolate—because an encounter with such a high-ranking official would be a remarkable thing. But for you, sir? An everyday occurrence. My equipment would have a hard time pinpointing it.”

“Damn. It’s crucial that I recall what he said.”

“Recall is a tricky thing, sir. It requires something to bring it to mind.”

“I suppose.”

“People always get frustrated when other people can’t remember things. In fact, my wife was mad at me a couple of weeks ago because I couldn’t remember something that had happened on our honeymoon. She’d snapped, ‘But it’s important! Why can’t you remember?’ You know what my reply was?”

Seth managed a small shake of his head.

Singh exploded in mock-anger. “Because I was loaded, okay?”

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Seth couldn’t stop himself from smiling. “I used to love that show.”

“Me, too,” said Singh. “But, actually, I’m not making a joke. Not that I was loaded—I don’t drink. But declarative memories are best recalled under the same circumstances as they were laid down. Memories formed while drunk—or underwater, or at a hotel—come back best when drunk or underwater or back at that hotel.”

“Damn,” said Seth.

“What?” replied Singh.

“The conversation took place in the Oval Office—and that doesn’t exist anymore.”

“Ah, I see,” said Singh. But then he smiled. “Still, perhaps there is a way.”