The Most Elusive Game
by K. J. Zimring
The target was short, dumpy, and kinda cute, in a squashed-face way. We sat around a conference table deep in the heart of the Pentagon and watched the clip. She was shopping. At a flea market. She appeared to be very interested in textiles.
"Seriously?" I said. "You can't catch her?"
The general narrowed his eyes. "You don't understand. She has abilities beyond the normal ken."
"Ken? Where'd you pick up a word like that?" Wait. They didn't need to answer. "You called in a psychic before you talked to me?"
"It's not that we don't appreciate science." The general's aide made a conciliatory gesture. "We understand you're a leader in your field."
I knew what that anxious eye-blink meant. It said, I downloaded all your papers and understood none of it. "But you thought a psychic would be your best bet."
The general snorted. "We thought the Navy Seals would be our best bet. She slipped right past 'em. Made 'em look like fools."
On the screen, the woman's head picked up. She dropped the quilt she'd been examining and scurried off. A few minutes later a Seal, civilian-dressed but obviously military, appeared in the frame. Too late. They switched camera angles, found her again and again, but each time she wafted by. It was like swatting at a fly: the very act of trying to nab her seemed to sweep her forward, gust her just out of their reach.