The Extremes

'No.' The whiskey glass was empty already, and she was turning it in her fingers. 'I'm here to work. May 1 buy you a drink?'

'No, thanks.'

'You sure? OK, then let me have another double, and after that I'm quitting. 1 was drinking on the plane, but you know it sort of flows through you and you don't feel anything. Not until you get up to go to the john, and then it seems as if the plane is moving all over the place. But that was hours ago.'

She took the newly filled glass of iced bourbon that Amy placed in front of her.

'Thanks a lot. 1 guess I'm talking too much. just for tonight ... 1 want to go to bed and sleep, and 1 can't do that after a journey unless I've had a couple of drinks.' She glanced around the almost deserted bar. Amy instantly looked at the back of the woman's neck, which was briefly exposed when she turned. 'So what's the main action in Bulverton?'

Amy said, 'Not much action, really. Some people come here to retire. If you go towards Bexhill you'll see a lot of big old houses, most of them converted into nursing homes. There aren't many jobs in the town.'

'Are there any places to see? You know, sights for tourists?'

'There's the Old Town. That used to be the big attraction. It's just round the corner from here.

Where you parked the car, at the back, there's a road that leads away from the seafront, going up the hill. If you walk up there you'll see the market place. That's the heart of the Old Town.'

'You got a museum here in town?'

'A small one. There's another in Bexhill, and there are a couple in Hastings.'

'Local history, that sort of thing?'

'It's been a long time since 1 went to any of the museums, but 1 think that's what you'll find.'

'Is there a newspaper office here, where 1 can go talk to them?'

'The Courier, yes. There's a shop in the Old Town where they take bookings for classified ads.

But the editorial office is in Hastings, 1 think. Or maybe Eastbourne. I'll try and find out for you in the morning.'

'So the newspaper doesn't just carry local news? I mean, about Bulverton only?'

'We're not big enough to have our own paper. Actually, the real name of the paper is the Bexhill and Bulverton Courier, but everyone calls it the Courier. It's the only one. lt covers this stretch of coast, as far along as Pevensey Bay.'

'Right. Thank you ... 1 don't know your name.'

'Amy. Amy Colwyn.'

'Nice to meet you, Amy. I'm Teresa.'

Teresa stood up, saying she was going to hit the sack; Amy asked her again if everything in her room was satisfactory, and was told it was.

As she left, Teresa said, 'I hope you don't mind my asking. What kind of an accent is it you have?'

'Accent?' lt was the first time anyone had commented on the way Amy spoke. 'I suppose ... 1

mean, it must be the way we all speak around here. It's nothing special.'

'No, it's very attractive. OK, 1 guess I'll see you in the morning.'

CHAPTER 3

he first few times Teresa used the extreme experience T scenarios she had played a witness.

That was how the Bureau worked. You wired in and they did the stuff on you, and soon enough you found yourself in a situation that was about to go wrong.

The problem of being a witness, as they described it, was having to decide where to be before the action began. You had to witness, be close enough and see enough so you could write a report afterwards, but you also had to survive.

lt was the Bureau's way not to explain too much in advance about what was going to happen, so before their first experience the only training Teresa and the others received was in how to abort a scenario.

Her instructor was Special Agent Dan Kazinsky, who said to her, 'You don't need to know how to get out. You only have to know that if you survive. But I'll show you anyway.'

He taught her one of those acronym mnemonics the instructors were so fond of. LIVER.

Locate, Identify, Verify, Envision, Remove.

'But you aren't going to make it,' said Kazinsky. 'You might later on, but the first few times are tough.'

The first extreme experience lasted exactly seven seconds, and for all of that short time Teresa was overwhelmed and disoriented by a flood of sensations. Some were physical, some mental.

She shifted abruptly from the cool, underlit ExEx

laboratory in the training facility in Quantico to brilliant sunshine in a city street at noon. She staggered as she entered the unaccustomed weight of another woman's body. The noise of traffic burst against her like an explosion. Heat stifled her. The tall buildings of the downtown area of a city crowded around and above her. The sidewalks were full of people. There was a siren wailing somewhere, construction workers clattering at something metal, car horns blowing. She stared around in amazement, astounded by the shock of this false reality.

Information rushed in at her. This was Cleveland, Ohio, on East 55th Street between Superior and Euclid.