by Saul, Jonas
Then Fedora Man spun on his heels and stared directly at Sarah.
It’s on, she thought. This guy is here for me.
Whatever they want to do or however long they want to do it, they will never quell her desire to exact justice on Armond. All these assholes getting in her way were only distractions.
The man started walking toward her. Sarah stayed perfectly still, the newspaper folded in her lap with the cop’s gun hidden under its shelter of ink.
One flip of the edge of the paper and she’d be arrested again as the incriminating weapon was now in her possession.
Yesterday they could prove nothing until they found the gun. She led them right to it. And then this ass waited until she had it in her hand to make his move.
Fedora Man stopped six feet from her, reached up and tipped his hat. Just like the other night.
“Good morning.”
Sarah nodded.
“May I have a seat?”
Sarah nodded again. It was killing her. Why so polite? Why not drop the ball and get on with it? She was also surprised with herself. Maybe all the years of violence and confrontations had hardened her because she didn’t feel the least bit nervous. Cops had rules they had to live by. She wasn’t going to be killed or attacked. All they could ever do was talk a lot and remove her liberties, but as O.J. proved, with enough money and a good lawyer, many liberties could be returned.
He sat across from her, adjusted his jacket and leaned back into the cushioned softness of the leather couch he occupied.
If anything, Sarah was intrigued by his entrance. There was something dangerous about him because he exuded a power only serious confidence could create. This was a man who got the job done. She didn’t know who he worked for but whoever it was they had someone solid here.
What he didn’t know was that Sarah had more confidence. There was almost nothing he could do that would surprise her. She sat poised and ready to strike at the first movement she didn’t like. He was the one who needed to be on guard. She had a weapon at the ready.
“What are you planning?”
“Excuse me?”
His English was American. She was sure of it.
“I’m a friend.”
“Then explain something to me,” she said.
He lowered his head enough to see he was attempting a slow-motion nod.
“Explain what?”
“How come I don’t know you? I know my friends. If you’re a friend, then why don’t I know you on sight?”
He lifted his head and stared at her. “Not in that sense. I’ll say it differently. I’m a friendly. This means—”
“I know what it means, but thanks anyway. Don’t need friendlies.”
“Sarah, I think you do.”
Mr. Mysterious was starting to piss her off. Sarah felt her temper rising. Playing riddle man, and acting like this dance was a game, only served her a cold plate of fuck you. Time to draw him out.
“Either state your business or fuck off. I’ve got some touring of the city to do before my flight back to the States.”
“You’re not going back to the States.”
“Okay, the only way you could know my personal agenda is if you’re some kind of God. Since you’re not, then you’ve got a pair a balls the size of Texas. Either tell me your business or I’m leaving, Fedora Man.”
He brought his hands together and tented them in front of his chest. He appeared to be contemplating what to tell her and what to leave out.
“Okay, Sarah, you win. My name is Rod Howley. I’m with the Sophia Project out of the University of Arizona.”
“Come again? What’s that?”
“One of our main purposes is to investigate the experiences of people who claim to channel or communicate with deceased loved ones. Our ultimate goal is to investigate if these communications can be validated under controlled conditions.”
Sarah had never heard of them before. Having spent a considerable amount of time with Dolan Ryan and Esmerelda she thought she would’ve heard of the Sophia Project. From her high school studies she knew the name Sophia meant wisdom, but that was the extent of it.
“I’ve never heard of you or your little group. But the important question is, why tell me?”
She knew why. They had to have gotten wind of what she’d been doing for the last five years or so and wanted to learn more from her. The proper words here were, use her as a guinea pig. But their timing couldn’t be worse. This was no time to be hanging around doing psychic tests while Armond was on the loose, even if she wanted to. The only way anyone would get Sarah and Vivian to perform like circus psychics was if they forced her and forcing Sarah to do anything would be a trying task.
“Sarah, we both know why I’m sitting here. You’re a very active girl. As I understand it, Vivian gives you messages and you act on them for the good of humanity. Very noble of you. But this latest job has crossed the line. We need to talk, find a resolution and continue your mission with more control involved.”
This guy knew more than she was comfortable with. Tossing Vivian’s name in to subtly display his knowledge only pissed her off further. He talked about her dead sister like she was a card being played in this game of chess he started as he strategically placed himself near a check-mate.
Wrong move asshole.
“Unless you say something to convince me to continue talking to you, I am going to stand up and walk out of here. Try to stop me. Please do. I usually wait for provocation.”
He untented his hands and showed her his palms. “I’m sorry. I can see I’m upsetting you. That wasn’t my goal.”
He paused to remove his hat. Sarah took the opportunity to scan the lobby. It remained empty as the clock behind the counter said it was coming on six in the morning. The female hotel clerk was nowhere to be seen.
“Sarah, Parapsychology research—”
“Stop using my name so freely. I don’t know you. You don’t know me. We’re strangers. It will remain that way.”
“Okay, I’m sorry.”
She could tell that was hard on him. There was something peculiar about this man. He looked like a caged raccoon. Seemingly innocent enough but get too close and he’ll attack. She decided to listen a little longer. She wasn’t psychic in the traditional sense but she could tell when someone was on the edge of a fight and Fedora Man really wanted to do some damage. It oozed off his skin. He didn’t seem comfortable sitting and discussing things. It made her think he was an interrogator and not an explainer.
“Parapsychology research is conducted in over thirty countries worldwide. The term parapsychology was first coined in or around 1889 by philosopher Max Dessoir.”
“Why the history lesson? Under other circumstances I love to learn new things but you walk in here, use my name and say you’re a friend. I ask for you to tell me what’s going on and you’re giving me a history lesson. Time is running out.”
“Fair enough. Do you expect me to take you seriously Sarah?”
Her finger itched to slide into the trigger guard of the weapon that still lay concealed on her lap. I’ll show you just how serious I can be, she thought.
“Absolutely. My sense of humor is like a court jester. Not seen much anymore, but when it does come around we all laugh. Today I’m serious and you should be aware that serious, by definition, actually means dangerous.”
“Then I expect you to take me seriously too. I only have a few more things to say and then you can decide.”
“Decide what?”
“Decide whether or not you will accompany me back to America where we will really do some good.”
She leaned forward slightly. “Are you saying that I’m not doing good on my own?”
“The direction this conversation is going isn’t good. Will you allow me to continue? I only need a minute more.”
Sarah leaned back and sized him up. He was American. He held no authority in Hungary. She had the gun. He only wanted to talk. She wanted to know more about the ma
n who seemed to know a shit load about her.
She nodded for him to go ahead and then scanned the lobby again. No one around. They’d been talking for a few minutes now and no one had entered the lobby. She was starting to find that strange. If someone didn’t come through any door soon, she felt the rope of the noose would tighten.
“The Society for Psychical Research was founded in London in 1882. The American Society for Psychical Research followed suit and opened their doors in New York City in 1885. By 1911 Stanford University became the first academic institution in the United States to study extrasensory perception, better known as ESP. Finally, in 1930, Duke University followed.”
He stopped to gauge her response. She offered nothing so he continued.
“My organization usually has volunteers but sometimes we search out people who we have heard of. People who display a talent far beyond usual parameters.”
“Your organization? You mean the Sophia Project?”
Sarah looked behind him. No one in the lobby at all. The noose tightened. Something was wrong. She had to leave.
“Sort of.”
Sort of? What the fuck is that? He just said he was with the Sophia Project but now he’s sort of with them?
“You might want to qualify that comment. Do it quick. I’m about to leave.”
“I’m actually employed by the United States Government. My organization works in conjunction with the people at the University of Arizona.”
“So you’re not actually with this Sophia Project?”
“My employer is the government. I am employed to work with the people at the Sophia Project. Let’s just say I’m their recruiter.”
“While you talk in circles I’m leaving. Rarely do I meet someone who is so full of shit that they’ve lost sight of the piss they spew.” She paused for a second and wondered if he was armed. As a recruiter was he supposed to take her in? There could be no time for surprises. Not today. “Stand up.”
“You’re making a mistake. I’m the only friend you’ve got.”
“Wrong thing to say. Stand up. Last chance.”
To his credit he took her seriously.
“Now step away from me.”
She didn’t even need to show him her weapon. He complied without protest.
Once he was over ten feet away Sarah stood and folded the newspaper and its concealed weapon under her left arm giving it easy access for her right hand.
“You are making a mistake. It will be much harder for us to talk when you’re in a jail cell. I also would find it difficult to get you back to the States once incarcerated.”
“Wow, you’ve got big plans for me. Remind me again, who put you in charge?”
“Sarah, this is your last chance. Listen to me. Come with me. Your life will get a lot easier. Defy me, and your life will not only become more difficult, it will become unbearable in a short while.”
She dropped the newspaper and pulled the gun out, flicking the safety off in less than a second. It was so fast that Fedora Man stepped back.
“You want to threaten me? Threats only anger me. Is that your goal? To anger me? Don’t make me angry Mr. Howley, you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.”
He slowly raised both hands, keeping his eyes on the weapon.
“Sarah, you will have no choice soon. I’m a recruiter. It’s what I do. I’m here to recruit you with or without your consent. I thought we could be civil about it.”
Her peripheral vision told her the lobby just filled up. She took a step to the right and angled herself to be able to see the front desk without taking her eyes off him.
Seven men, all dressed in suits had emerged from numerous parts of the lobby of the Best Western. They looked the same like cops in uniforms except these men all wore suits, stood with their arms crossed in front of them and they all had slicked back hair.
“What the fuck is this? A Brylcreem convention or are you all just fuck buddies?”
Everything made sense now. These men were the reason no one had entered the lobby. Mr. Rod Howley had come with backup.
Without waiting for a response, Sarah stepped toward Rod.
“I should shoot you in the foot to see how well you follow me after that.”
“Do it and more like me will come. Eventually you will have to come with us. You can’t continue this way. It’s too dangerous.”
She got close enough to place the tip of the weapon under his chin.
“Tell that to the people I’ve saved over the years. Tell them it’s too dangerous that I’m out there helping people. Bullshit. Who are you to tell me I’m too dangerous?”
“Examine your current behavior.”
She dropped the weapon and leaned in with her elbow all in one easy motion. Her elbow slammed into his left ear with enough power to double him over. As she righted her arm, she brought the weapon up to aim in the general direction of all the men standing twenty feet away near the main desk of the lobby.
“Please, someone pull out a weapon. Do it! Let’s all show Mr. Howley here how dangerous people can be when they’re cornered. When the odds are overwhelmingly against them and they’re told that they must succumb to the wishes of a complete stranger who happens to know too much about them.” Her teeth were clenched and she felt spittle shoot through them.
All seven men stood statue still. Anyone could see how angry she was and no one felt sure enough to challenge her.
Rod was standing straight again, holding his ear. “Okay Sarah, you win. Today you get a free pass.”
She edged around him and started for the front. As she neared the men, they moved away from her, their backs to the elevator hallway. When she got to the front exit door she scanned the outside. Another man in a suit stood with his arms crossed holding back six people with luggage.
These men had successfully cordoned off the entire lobby of the Best Western hotel, downtown Budapest, so that Rod could talk to her. How powerful were these men? Better yet, who were they?
She looked back at Rod and lowered her weapon to ease it into the back of her pants.
“This doesn’t end here,” she said. “I will find out who you are and what you’re up to. I’m not the hunted, I’m the hunter.”
“You’re wrong Sarah.”
She touched the door handle and cracked the door a little.
“How’s that?” she asked.
“We are coming for you. You cannot hide from us. I was supposed to try to convince you to come willingly but now I can see that that will never happen. Our next directive was to take you by force. But not now. We’ll wait. We’ll watch. And when you’re not expecting it, we’ll be there. And we will take you Sarah Roberts. There is nothing you can do about it. You are now property of the United States government.”
She almost pulled her gun out and shot him in the face for that last bit. Instead she lowered her head and said, loud enough for all the hired gorillas to hear:
“I will bury you first.”
She eased the door open, slipped through and walked past the man holding people back. To make sure she wasn’t being followed, she kept looking over her shoulder.
Rod stepped out onto the pavement and watched her go.
She turned a corner and walked out of sight.
A small park came up on the right. She walked to the open gates, stepped in and sat on one of the benches where she put her face in her palms and wept.
Fear motivated her. Threats inspired her to action. But this was different. Those men meant what they said. She was in real danger.
Real danger scared her.
For one of the first times in her life, Sarah was seriously afraid.
She wept as if her emotional side opened a dam and released all the pent up sadness at what her life had become.
She needed to be held. Her mother would be good, but maybe it was time for a man. Someone strong who could take care of her in her weaker moments.
Sarah hugged herself and shuddered under the pressure of her tears.
At nine in the morning Sarah entered a pharmacy that was just opening its doors. In less than ten minutes she’d accumulated everything she needed.
By nine-thirty she had found a hostel-like hotel that would allow her to rent a room for the night. The room was ready so she settled in right away. In the bathroom she applied the brown hair color she’d bought and began the grueling task of dying her blond hair.
After rinsing it all out in the shower she tied her hair into two braids that hung over each shoulder.
