First and Only Read Online Free PDF Page B

came
within a yard or two. His manner was gruff almost menacing. Their phone
conversation was still fresh in his mind. This man had made mention of his
family and Steve was here to make damn sure that he meant them no harm.
    Psimon held out his hand.
    ‘Mr Brennus,’ he said. ‘Thank you
for coming.’
    Steve stepped forward and
hesitated before taking the young man’s hand. ‘You left me little choice,’ he
said.
    Psimon smiled apologetically. He
released Steve’s hand and invited him to take a seat on the rocks. ‘Forgive
me,’ he said. ‘I wanted to make sure you would come.’
    Steve remained standing for a
moment. Whatever he had been expecting this was not it. He placed great store
on first impressions and his instincts told him that this ‘Psimon’ was all
right… a typically nice guy. Slender build and tall, though not quite up to
Steve’s six-two. He wore his sandy brown hair casually long, and with his prominent
cheekbones and grey eyes he was essentially a good-looking young man. His face
was discoloured with some nasty bruising but that looked to be a week or two
old and would soon be gone.
    No, not what he had been
expecting at all.
    Despite the unsettling intrigue
of that first phone call Steve found Psimon’s demeanour to be gentle, almost
timid. Only his eyes suggested that there might be more. There was a strange
intensity to Psimon’s gaze but there was something else too; something that
Steve had seen many times before; something with which he was all to familiar…
fear.
    Much of Steve’s apprehension
leeched away and he sat down on the bare ground just a few feet from Psimon.
Whatever trouble this kid was in Steve suspected that he would not have to sell
his soul to keep him safe. ‘ What was it? ’ he thought. ‘ Borrowed money
from the wrong people… selling dope on some thug’s turf in Manchester… some
kind of corporate trouble maybe… ’
    ‘Do you believe in psychics, Mr
Brennus?’ asked Psimon suddenly.
    ‘What do you mean?’ said Steve
momentarily thrown by the unexpected question. ‘Bending spoons or talking to
the dead?’
     ‘Mediums claim to be able to
speak to the dead,’ clarified Psimon. ‘While bending spoons comes under the
heading of ‘macro-psychokinesis.’
    ‘As opposed to micro…’
    ‘Psychokinesis,’ Psimon finished
for him. ‘Yes.’
    ‘Which is?’ queried Steve playing
along for the sake of it.
    ‘The ability to influence things
on a small scale… computers, electrical circuits, that kind of thing.’
    ‘You’re talking ESP.’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Moving things with your mind…
reading people’s thoughts… prophesying the future.’
    ‘They call it precognition,’ said
Psimon.
    ‘No,’ said Steve.
    ‘No, what?’ asked Psimon.
    ‘No, I don’t believe in psychics,’
said Steve with annoyance. ‘ If this was some kind of wind-up, some kind of
scam… ’
    Psimon looked at Steve with his
deep grey eyes. ‘You’ve never had something happen to you that you can’t
explain?’ he asked.
    ‘Course I have,’ admitted Steve.
‘But that doesn’t mean it was supernatural.’
    ‘True,’ agreed Psimon.
    There was a moment’s silence
between the two men.
    ‘My dad claimed to have had
psychic experiences,’ said Steve, somewhat irritated that he had been drawn
into this ridiculous conversation.
    ‘Are you calling your dad a liar
then?’ challenged Psimon.
    ‘No,’ replied Steve. ‘I believe
what he said happened. We just reached different conclusions about how it
happened.’
    Psimon gave a satisfied nod. He
reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a brown envelope. He reached
across and laid it on the rock within arm’s reach of Steve.
    ‘What’s that?’ asked Steve.
    ‘There’s three thousand pounds in
there, Mr Brennus,’ said Psimon. ‘I will pay you another three thousand pounds
a day if you will accompany me while I go about my business and keep me safe
for the next five days.’
    ‘What happens in the next