Mindjacker by Asche Jonathan

Author:Asche, Jonathan [Asche, Jonathan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: STARbooks Press
Published: 2010-08-17T16:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

Joel spent a total of two nights in jail—the longest two nights of his life. He couldn’t very well call Marie to bail him out, and he didn’t know anyone else who would help him.

On his third day in jail, in a cell he shared with a surly, abundantly tattooed man who called himself Dagger and a friendlier—albeit smellier— drunk named George, help arrived.

“I’m William Haugh, attorney for the Selman family,” a dumpy man introduced himself. He was impeccably dressed, but the expensive clothes did little to offset his pudgy face and beady eyes. In introducing himself, William Haugh’s tone suggested he held Joel in slightly higher esteem than a dog turd. A peek into William Haugh’s thoughts confirmed that he actually regarded Joel to be on the same level as dog excrement.

“Who’s the Selman family?”

William Haugh raised his eyebrows incredulously. “The family of Brad Selman. I’m sure you remember Brad. He’s why you’re in here.” “We never got around to exchanging names.”

It turned out Brad Selman was the youngest son of a prominent real

estate developer. He’d been in and out of trouble for most of his adult life. His family bailed him out to spare themselves the embarrassment. The Selman family would bail Joel out, too, on the conditions that he not speak to the press and that he would never see Brad again. Joel gladly signed the papers William Haugh presented him. Thirty minutes later he was on the street, desperately needing a shower and a change of clothes.

It took nearly three hours for Joel to get to his motel. He only had $10 in his wallet and since it had been Marie who was entrusted with a credit card from The Institute, a cab was out of the question. Riding the bus was only slightly more pleasant than his stay in jail.

Eager as he was to take a shower and change clothes, Joel hesitated before putting his electronic key into the lock of his motel room. The room, it seemed, was already occupied.

He couldn’t read the minds of the people in his room—Joel generally couldn’t pick up thoughts through walls—but he could sense their presence. Joel could also sense they weren’t there on a social call. Putting his keycard back in his pocket, he walked away. Quickly.

A door opened. “There he is!” shouted Marie. Another door opened. Joel looked back in time to see two men in suits burst from his room, taking off after him.

Joel took off in a blind panic. He ran through the parking lot toward the street. The motel he and Marie stayed in was located off Howell Mill Road, a road perpetually streaming with speeding to and from the nearby interstate. Though the odds of his survival were only slightly higher with Atlanta drivers than the two goons chasing him, Joel sprinted into traffic. Screeching tires, curses and blaring horns erupted around him, but he kept running. Two cars crashed trying to avoid him, and another car narrowly stopped in time. Remarkably, he made it to the other side unscathed.

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