by Linda Hawley
Over my shoulder, I said, “I just want to walk the garden alone, thank you.”
“I understand—I’m just trying to help you, dear,” she shouted.
I waved back at her as I kept walking, trying to orient myself towards the Strolling Pond Garden. Passing through the Japanese garden, I should have absorbed the feelings of peace and tranquility, but with my head buried in the map, I didn’t notice much of anything.
Finally I reached the meeting place, but there were so many secluded nooks of the garden that I had to walk around a good bit to find the GOG contacts. I searched for a full twenty-five minutes.
Giving up, I stopped. They left. I almost died in a plane crash to meet them, and they left. I was irritated. Standing on the Moon Bridge in the Strolling Pond Garden, I stared at the trees and lush vegetation that surrounded me, seeing the splendor of the garden for the first time. What a day. I then had an epiphany.
Rushing back to the garden entrance, I approached Deloris. There was no line.
“Hi, Deloris,” I greeted her with a smile.
“Oh, hello dear,” she exclaimed. “Are you enjoying your stroll?” she asked sincerely, smiling in return.
“Well, Deloris, I’ve reconsidered and would like to take the tour. When does it start?”
“Oh my dear. They have just started—see there…” she wagged her finger. “You can catch them,” she said, enthusiasm and urgency rushing out of her, pointing to a group that had just started walking.
I started to hurry toward the group. “Thank you,” I called over my shoulder.
Catching up with the group, I arrived just as the tour guide was finishing his speech about what new improvements to the garden had recently been completed. I listened, trying to push the last few hours from my mind.
He continued, “The Japanese professor who designed the garden, Takuma Tono, was quoted as saying, ‘A Japanese garden is not only a place for the cultivation of trees and flowering shrubs, but one that provides secluded leisure, rest, repose, meditation, and sentimental pleasure. The Garden speaks to all the senses, not just to the mind alone.’”
My mind was engaged, and I was beginning to slough off the near-tragic morning, shedding layer after layer of stress as I explored the gardens.
The next two hours were filled with a sensory extravaganza that delighted me and the other six people on our tour on the newly cloudless day. I was happily lost in every shade of green that was represented in the vegetation. I heard the sounds of water in all five gardens, in the form of Koi ponds, creeks, and even a waterfall. They seemed to wash away my tension. The zigzag bridge made me feel as though I were floating on water as it wandered through big plantings of lilies and other flowers, statues, and majestic stones. The smells were pleasant and spicy. I felt a peacefulness overcome me as I saw the flowers in bloom. The ducks and their quacking babies swimming in the pond renewed me.
Monet would have loved to paint this, I thought introspectively.
After the tour concluded, I returned to the Strolling Pond Garden and took a seat on a wooden bench in a private cove. It was the perfect setting to gain perspective and just think. I needed to uncover what I felt was sitting just behind my consciousness, so I began a Transcendental Meditation. Thirty minutes later, I opened my eyes to the sunlight bouncing off the green oasis, creating a vibrant visual feast. The sweet, spicy smell of the Japanese honeysuckle wafted to my nose. My skin felt warmed by the sun, and I felt at peace.
The near crash…it was clearly caused by the weather. That’s certain. But the save—was it all the pilot’s doing? I pondered.
If we had crashed, none of us would have survived; intuitively, I knew this to be true. I was now certain that I did have a premonition of the morning’s events, which is why I called Elinor this morning, to say goodbye. But the pilot’s prevention of the crash—that didn’t feel like the full explanation. Then the realization came into my consciousness, stirring me.
The Herkimer. It was around my neck, and I was considering its power just as the plane was about to cartwheel sideways. I remembered the peace and joy I felt in that moment and the power of the Herkimer at my breast. Could I—with the Herkimer—have helped the pilot prevent the crash? Had I helped prevent the wing from hitting the tarmac by focusing all my energy on it?
The answers to these questions were unknowable using logic. All I knew was that it was possible I had intervened in the near disaster, using the power of my mind, along with the Herkimer. It was certainly true that unexpected paranormal events were lately becoming the norm.
Chapter 3
BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON
The Year 2015
I left the garden with my mind clear and drove back to Portland Airport. I felt peaceful, especially believing that I had played a part in saving the lives of those on board the plane with me. Even Blondie would live another day to be a mother.
After a short wait, I boarded my flight back to Bellingham. The sky was perfectly clear, which suited me just fine. Gratefully, my return flight from Portland was uneventful.
The next day, I returned to AlterHydro.
Lulu and I walked in the entry of the 1910.
“Hi, Vicki,” I cheerfully offered.
“Ann—I don’t know what you were thinking,” the hag scolded me out of nowhere.
I stopped, facing the offensive office manager, who was already going red in the face with budding rage.
“Okay, what’s going on?” I asked her calmly, with a bit of loathing in my voice.
She stood from her chair behind the reception desk and leaned toward me. The raging energy coming off her was palpable. Lulu suddenly stood alert by my side.
“You are supposed to call me if you take an unscheduled day off. You didn’t call yesterday,” she exclaimed. “I don’t know who you think you are! Do you think the rules don’t apply to you? You are the only one—well…maybe not the only one—who doesn’t do what’s expected of you—”
“Vicki,” I said with a raised hand, interrupting her with a detached rebuttal. “If you’ll check your email, you’ll see that I sent my boss an email—copying you—notifying you both that I would be taking a personal day. That meets the requirement of notifying you,” I calmly offered.
“No, it does not. What if email goes down?” she nearly screamed at me.
A low growl began in Lulu’s throat. Other employees were coming into the foyer, giving Vicki disapproving looks, shaking their heads. It was turning into a scene.
Standing firm, I began my rebuttal. “Vicki, when is the last time our email went down?” I asked her logically.
“Well…well…”
“That’s right—during the three years I’ve been here, we’ve never had our email system go down once, thanks to Paul’s genius. So I know that if I send you an email, you’re going to get it.”
“But…but…you should have called me,” she stammered.
Pausing, I looked at her in silence. “Vicki, have a nice day,” I offered in conclusion, walking off with Lulu.
Whack-job!
Taking a deep breath, I walked down the hall towards the stairwell, hearing Vicki murmur. I couldn’t get away fast enough.
After opening the stairwell door, I smacked right into Paul.
“Whoa!” I exclaimed.
Paul’s face went pale in surprise.
“Vicki thinks your email system isn’t what it should be,” I told him abruptly, rolling my eyes.
He paused, staring at me for an uncomfortable length. “What?” he asked, shaking his head.
He seemed preoccupied.
“You should go talk to her,” I said, goading him, then smiled.
He didn’t smile back, but instead looked grim. I pushed past him, eager to get free of Vicki’s mutterings, which I could still hear. Lulu and I bounded down the stairs, while Paul exited into the hall toward Vicki. As I reached the basement, I saw that Edwin was gone.
“Looks like we’ve got it all to ourselves,” I announce
d happily to Lulu. I got settled and was fifteen minutes into reading through my accumulated emails from my absence, when my phone rang.
“Hello. Ann Torgeson.”
“Hi, Ann,” Bennett cheerfully replied.
“I bet I can figure out how you know I just got in.”
“Yes, you’re right. Vicki called me. She’s very upset.”
“Yeah, she was raging at me in the foyer.”
“I already heard about that from someone else. But that’s not why I called.”
Well that’s good.
“Do you think you can come up here so we can chat?”
“Sure, I’ll be right up. Should I bring the latest manual?”
“No. Just you.”
“Okay. See ya in a few.”
“Bye.”
My heart started to beat faster.
“I hope I’m not in trouble with Calvin,” I whispered to Lulu, scrunching up my nose. She just looked at me. I got a paper and pen, leaving Lulu in her bed.
Bounding up the stairs and then down the wide hall, I found Bennett’s open door.
“Hi,” I warmly announced at the doorway, knocking.
He motioned me in.
Whew, no Calvin Klein cologne today…what a relief! I thought as I took my first breath in his office.
“Hi, Ann,” he said, coming around his desk. He gestured to the chairs in front of his massive desk. “Take a seat.” He sat in the seat next to me and shifted it so that we were angled toward one another.
Hmm, he’s never done that before.
I smiled at him, lifting my eyebrows, unsure where this was going.
“Did you have a good day off?” he asked.
“It was fine, thank you. Everything go okay here?”
“Sure.”
I smiled.
This is weird.
There was silence while Bennett pensively gazed at an original Gary Benfield figurative painting over my shoulder.
“Bennett, are you planning on firing me and trying to figure out how to lessen the blow? Because if you are—”
He laughed, interrupting my speech. “Ann, if I fired you, I’d be screwed.”
“Well, thank you. But whatever it is…I like the truth better than this silence.”
“That is like you—blunt,” he replied, standing up to close his door.
“Wow—closed door—it must be serious,” I teased him gently with a smile after the door was shut.
After sitting down, he leaned toward me. “Ann, loyalty is a pretty big thing to me.”
“Okay…”
“Our technology patents are the nucleus of everything we’re doing here. If we didn’t have those patents—or if our intellectual property was stolen—we’d be completely screwed,” he said carefully, drilling into my eyes.
“I get that,” I said with equal eye contact, trying to figure out what prompted the speech. More silence. “Bennett, is this about the manual? Do you want me to keep it under lock and key or something?”
“No, no, no…” he answered impatiently. Silence again as he studied the painting. Then he looked into my eyes. “Ann, someone told me you went to Portland yesterday,” he blurted out, staring at me.
What?
“I went to meet friends for the day. But instead of meeting my friends, my plane almost crashed during our landing—”
“Wait. Your plane almost crashed?” he asked with concern.
I told Bennett the story about the storm and my plane, making sure to mention the Microsoft Sales Director who sat next to me.
“You should write that down, Ann.”
“I don’t think it’s something I’d ever forget.”
“I wouldn’t think so,” he agreed. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
I sat looking at him, unsure what to say next, so I plowed ahead.
“So when we did finally land, it was very late, so I missed my friends entirely,” I quickly explained, remembering what the CIA had taught me.
When lying, always use as much truth as you can, to help keep your story consistent. I would explain everything about my day in Portland, if Bennett wanted, but I would leave GOG out of it.
Bennett exhaled loudly, visibly relieved. “Thank you, Ann. That’s all I wanted to know.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, who told you that I was in Portland?”
“Oh, I’d rather not say.”
“Hmm,” I said, peering at him in irritation. “So someone is trying to slander my reputation, but you won’t tell me who it is?”
“I’ll deal with it, Ann. That, I promise you,” he said sincerely.
I believed him. “Well, okay, but I hope you won’t let him off easy,” I said.
“Trust me…I won’t,” he said, seriousness trickling into his tone. He stood, smiling. “I’m glad we cleared this up,” signaling the meeting was over.
I stood. “You don’t have to worry about me, Bennett. Remember, I’m the girl with the security clearance. Your secrets are safe with me.”
“Yes, I’ll remember that in the future,” he replied, moving around behind his desk.
I turned and left his office, leaving the door open. I paced myself walking down the executive hall leading to the stairwell. When the stairwell door closed behind me, I stopped on the landing, leaned on the door, and exhaled.
My mind was screaming in shock.
Someone told Bennett that I was in Portland.
Stepping off the landing, I started down the stairs to the basement, grateful not to encounter anyone.
Who betrayed me? I thought as I descended the stairs.
Finally I opened the basement door. Lulu came to greet me, and I saw that we were still the only ones down there.
Sitting at my desk, I reached into my bottom drawer and withdrew my emergency chocolate. Staring into thin air, I petted Lulu, who had come to sit beside me.
The only people who knew I was going to Portland were my GOG contacts and Paul. Paul said he had met with GOG in person, so it’s unlikely that peekers had listened into a phone conversation. That leaves Paul.
I considered that thought for some time.
Could Paul have slipped and told Bennett that I was in Portland, while he was stressed about the crashed server? But Paul’s not a guy who lets anything slip…
Two hours later, Edwin and Paul returned to the basement at the same time. He dropped some things on his desk and then padded over to mine.
“Hey, Ann,” he said, oddly flat.
“Hi, Paul. How did your server repairs go?” I asked.
“Oh, we can talk about that later. Wanna have dinner tonight?” he asked with a quiet voice, to prevent Edwin from hearing.
“Yeah, sure.”
“How about seven?”
“Sounds good. Where?” I said quietly.
“How about the Oyster Bar restaurant out on Chuckanut Drive?”
“Never been there, but I do love a drive on Chuckanut.”
“Trust me, the food’s delicious, the view’s spectacular, and the company is perfect,” he said, his voice a seductive whisper.
I smiled. “Well then, wanna pick me up?”
“Yeah, I’ll pick you up at six thirty.”
“Okay then,” I agreed.
Paul smiled, then returned to his desk.
I liked the thought of telling him about my conversation with Bennett. We needed to figure out who knew about my Portland trip.
Chapter 4
BELLINGHAM, WASHINGTON
The Year 2015
My doorbell rang at six thirty.
“You’re right on time,” I said as I stood at the opened front door with Lulu by my side.
“Are you hungry?” Paul asked, standing on the porch.
“I am. Wanna come in for a minute?”
“Okay,” he said willingly, reaching down to pet Lulu.
“Why don’t you have a seat?” I asked, motioning to the kitchen bar.
Paul sat, and I followed suit.
“I
wanted to tell you about a conversation I had with Bennett when I arrived at work this morning.”
“Oh?” he said, eyebrows up.
“Someone told him that I went to Portland on my day off,” I said, looking into his eyes.
“You’re kidding,” Paul replied, shock trickling over his face.
“I thought you and I could brainstorm about who could have told him.”
“I don’t know, Ann,” he replied, a little defensively.
“I didn’t mean you,” I said with a smile, relieving him. “Who could have known?”
“I just don’t know…”
“Considering why I went on the trip…”
“Oh. Wait a second,” he said suddenly, thinking of something. “Do you think it could have been peekers? Listening here, to our conversation.”
“Nope.”
“Why not? They could just as easily listen here than any other place.”
I considered telling Paul that my house had been secured with a magnetic shield, but this was something I would never volunteer. I thought quickly.
“Why would peekers be listening while you and I were here together?” I asked him.
“I guess you’re right. There’s no reason why we’d be targets.”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you…Bennett thought that I had gone to Portland to sell our company secrets.”
“What?”
“He did. Whoever told Bennett that I went to Portland also insinuated that I was going there to commit industrial espionage. I reminded him that I’ve kept our government’s secrets for a long time and that I would be loyal to AlterHydro.”
“What did he say?”
“He was appreciative of the reminder. So who at AlterHydro would have something to gain by telling our company president that I was sabotaging him?” I asked, leaning towards him slightly.
I was reminded of the chemistry between us as soon as I moved in close proximity. He seemed to feel it too, realized it, and then pulled away to answer my question.
“Maybe Vicki, the scissor-stealer? Or Brock? Brock’s never been fond of you.”
“You knew that? About Brock?”
“The chill in the air when he looks at you is impossible for anyone to miss, Ann. Everyone knows he’s professionally threatened by you,” Paul said, laughing a bit.
