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The Seventh Chakra

Page 19

by J.R. Bowles

CHAPTER 17

  The Reverend Thomas Lamb closed his eyes in the shower, reliving the experience he had just after midnight. “Dear God, I can't believe this―how am I to accomplish this alone?” he cried. He was drying himself on the stiff towels of the run-down hotel when there was a knock at the door. He wrapped the towel around him and cracked the door.

  “Are you Thomas Lamb?” A young woman at the door asked.

  “Yes, I am.”

  “I have a telegram for you.”

  “Thank you.” Thomas opened the door slightly wider, reaching his left hand out, all the time wondering, who could know he was here?

  “I'm sorry it involves money so I'll have to have identification and your signature.”

  Thomas paused a moment, feeling exposed, but opened the door. “Excuse my state of undress. I'll have to get my driver’s license, one moment please.”

  As Thomas walked over to the dresser, the woman walked in as if she had been invited.

  When Thomas turned around he was startled to see that the dark-haired woman had followed him. He felt a moment of fear when he realized she had shut the door. He quickly dismissed the thought: although he was still, wearing only a towel and feeling rather vulnerable, she was a petite thing, and her smile and warm brown eyes disarmed his feelings of uneasiness. He gave her his Virginia driver’s license.

  She inspected it. “Thomas Anthony Lamb,” she read. “Thank you, Mr. Lamb. Please sign here.” She pointed at the paper, while staring at his hairless chest. She handed him the telegram.

  Thomas took it. “Enclosed is $10,000 dollars. Check into the Castleton Hotel near Madison Square Garden.” It was unsigned.

  “Is this supposed to be a joke?” Thomas said, forgetting his state of undress.

  “I assure you, this is no joke,” the woman said. “As soon as I return to our security van with your signature, there will be a man with your money escorting me up. We normally require people to come to our office for money but with this amount of money we deliver.” She glanced around the Spartan excuse for a hotel room. “By the way, my name is Becky.”

  “No offense, but I'll tip you after I get the money. I'm new to New York, and I have heard of all kinds of hustles.”

  “Smart thinking,” she smiled. “We will be back in a few minutes.”

 

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