It's one in a chain of extended-stay housing complexes that caters to Fortune 500 executives. Before I cross the threshold, I scan the corners for video cameras, spotting a small box just inside the front door aimed at the elevator bank. I step back and close my eyes, sending out a low-level telepathic signal tuned to a precise mental frequency in order to locate an individual, not unlike the echolocation used by bats to navigate their ways through caves. After a long second I receive the answer to my ping. He's on the penthouse floor. I quickly withdraw the mind probe. Although I'm tempted to peek inside his mind to see what he has in store, I decide against it. While Estes might not be a natural-born sensitive, the drug and electroshock therapy he underwent as a teenager seems to have activated dormant esper talent. That would explain some of his success at spotting and hunting down his prey. Only poets, drunks and madmen can see into the Real World, and Jack Estes is certainly no Shelley.
