He glanced up by instinct and was caught by Meyer's gaze.

“In mentem, in cogitationibus.”

Meyer broke through the mild layers of protection this man had and set up the scene to ask his questions. There are numerous techniques for doing this, but Meyer had always subscribed to inducing dream like states in his interviewees. He had used this method for the past thirty years and it was yet to fail him. Meyer set the scene: a dark room with Martese sat in a black leather chair under a white spotlight and Meyer sat across from him behind a curved metal table with bright horizontal neon strips covering the outside. He had stolen the image from the show Mastermind, it was simple enough to create and meant he could focus his power on making his subjects talk.

“Hello Mr. Martese,” Meyer said again.

Martese tried to struggle, shuffling left and right in his seat, attempting to lift his hands from the arm rests of the chair. That wouldn't work of course, Meyer was in control here and Martese wasn't going anywhere.

“I won't speak. I know what you are,” Martese said.

“How do you-” Meyer started to say, but was interrupted by a voice sounding out, as if over a tannoy system.

“Just the questions Meyer,” Helena said.

Bloody hell, could she see what was going on in real time? Well, that was weird. Could she only hear the things he said aloud? By that of course, he meant in his mind, which admittedly is a difficult concept for non-mentalists to understand. 'Cow,' Meyer thought to himself.

“Meyer,” Helena said.

Damn. She’d heard him, Meyer needed to be careful.

“What is your name?” Meyer said.

Martese shook his head, trying to fight the urge to answer. Meyer's interrogations were a bit like giving his subject a truth serum, only facts could leave their lips. His second trick was to force them to talk if any thought crossed their mind, which Meyer was sure nobody else in the alternate community could do. That combination made him 'special,' and above all, useful for retrieving information. There was a reason he had been made Doyen of Mentalism, even over Wade, and this was it. Other mentalists have to mentally torture their victims to get them to talk, which was all a little gruesome for Meyer's taste, his method was so much neater.

“Pablo Martese. Shut up. Shut up,” Martese said as he realised that he was speaking against his will.

“It's quite all right, you-”

“Just the questions or so help me God,” Helena said.

This was going to get him nowhere, perhaps he should just do what Helena said: ask the questions and get out of there, but where was the fun in that? There was more to Mr. Martese than met the eye.