"Yep. He sure surprised the hell out of me as well. He wants me to talk to an old colleague of his." Flip filled her in on the conversation.
“Well, are you going to call him?” Alp asked.
“I don’t know. Haven’t really thought about it much.”
“Well, I think you should,” Alp said leaning forward. “I mean, what harm would it do, and if he can in anyway help with improving your abilities to connect...” She left the statement dangling.
“Yeah, maybe,” Flip replied.
After a minute of silence, Alp slid her chair a little closer, then gently placed her hands on her father’s chest.
“When you’re ready, I want you to close your eyes and take several deep, cleansing breaths,” she said in a soft, almost whisper of a voice.
Flip did as instructed. He found his work with lucid dreaming had prepared him to go into a trance-like state smoothly. He spent four or five minutes breathing deeply while relaxing his muscles and joints as Alp instructed. He started at his toes and slowly worked his way up to the crown of his head. He then heard Alp's soft voice as though from a long distance away.
“I want you to travel with me into your body. We’re going to be searching for blockages and areas that need a little extra healing energy. As we travel, I want you to take a moment to accept your body just as it is.”
Flip felt Alp's hand move slowly from his chest down to his hips, and then to his right leg. "Your body is the temple of your soul," Alp continued. "Perhaps it needs a bit of attention, but it is here to serve you. The more you accept it, the more room you will also find to love it."
Flip could no longer tell if Alp was whispering to him or if he was hearing her psychically, not that it mattered, he thought. It felt so pleasant merely to be with her in this loving way. He could feel the waves of unconditional love emanating from her healing touch.
Flip found himself in a place that was familiar and strange at the same time; his body, as familiar as anything could be, but he'd never seen it from this perspective; traveling within it. He could see connecting lines of energy and other lines of a pulsing substance. He could feel Alp with him, a gentle warmth emitted from her. The lines had dark spots and tangles in them that turned other lines dark.
Alp said, "These are the areas we need to fix. If I can get the dark lines to untangle and glow again, I can fix you. Some of them are badly injured, and I might need to borrow some energy directly from you. I promise not to borrow too much. The energy I borrow will return with rest."
Flip felt himself nod. He was entirely in her healing hands now.
As she continued to massage his leg gently, he began to feel a light tingling sensation; a little like when a foot or leg has fallen asleep and is starting to awaken. Next came an itchy feeling that traveled from his groin area down both legs to his toes. He wanted to reach out and scratch his legs, but his arms felt too heavy for them to comply, so he quietly lay there, noticing the itchy feeling slowly pass to be replaced with a warm sensation, particularly focused on his right leg. Then a pop-pop as something released and suddenly the warmth turned to a burning sensation. It was one of those ‘hurt so good' impressions, like when someone massages a kink in your shoulder.
And just as suddenly, he realized he had renewed sensation in both legs, especially in his right one. The feeling moved from his toes up both legs to meet where the two legs came together at his groin. And then a new sensation — one he hadn't felt in such a long time that at first, he didn't recognize it. Then he did. He was having an erection.
Willow sat back in the plush seat of the Gulfstream as Tao escorted Mimi back to the storage compartment to begin her new role as Willow’s spy. Well, that went better than expected, Willow thought as a smug smile began to spread across her face.
Watch your step; she admonished herself. You know how quickly fortunes can turn in this business. Still, this called for a celebration. How about scotch on the rocks? She was about to reach up to flip the call button above her head when she felt her phone vibrate, alerting her to a new text message. What does the Sheik want now? I'm not picking up any more passengers. She lowered her hand and reached into her pocket for the phone.
But this message wasn’t from her boss. It was from James.
Have located the parcel of missing cargo.
Labeled ringleader. Alert home base.
I’ll deliver parcel myself. Small gift and payback.
What the hell does that mean? Willow wondered. It annoyed her how James seemed obsessed with talking in code even though he knew the Sheik used an elaborate system to prevent messages from being intercepted. Besides, we already have all the ‘parcels,' don't we? Willow reread the text message. Her eyes focused on the last line: Small gift and payback.
Someone had gotten the jump on James shortly after he landed in Bermuda with the cargo, Willow recalled, and it hadn’t been the boy. They hadn’t known about him at the time. That must mean that there was another they had missed until James stepped into the picture.
Interesting, Willow thought as she typed her response:
Good find. Will notify base.
She pressed send.
Great! One more loose end she hadn’t even known about now tied up. That definitely called for a drink; maybe even a double. She reached up and flipped the call button.
As Flip lay on the bed in Lionel's spare bedroom, he felt the torrent of mixed feelings course through his body; excitement and astonishment at having an erection after so much time mingled with embarrassment that Alp was present during the miracle; no doubt was actually the cause of it. He also felt her astonishment and embarrassment which only made matters that much worse. He was about to apologize when issues grew suddenly worse still.
You know you could be arrested in at least thirteen states for what you and your daughter were just engaged in?
Who the hell was that? Flip wondered. Even as he posed the question, he felt a shift in his awareness. Through the haze and fog that surrounded him, he saw the outline of a man sitting crossed-legged. As the image became clearer, he made out the gaunt figure and wispy hair of an elderly man who slowly floated towards him. That lotus position must not be easy at his age, Flip thought.
It is if you’ve been doing it every day for the last fifty or sixty years, came the blunt reply.
Are you going to call me? The voice asked.
Call you? Flip replied. I don’t know who the hell you are.
Call me. You have my number; the voice said as the figure began to dissolve. At the last moment, the old man looked up and smiled a Cheshire Cat-like grin; it was the last part to evaporate into thin air.
Well, that was interesting, Alp chimed in after a few seconds. The intrusion had broken their shared embarrassment over the erection which was also evaporating into thin air.
You do know who that was, don’t you? Alp asked her father.
I haven’t the foggiest... Flip started to reply, but then stopped. That was Alfred Bessler, wasn’t it?
That would be my guess.
Well, yes, I’ll give him a call today, Flip answered, then remembering what had happened before the interruption, continued, I’m sorry about the...you know...the...
Not to worry, Alp interrupted. That was my bad. The nerve pathways are all tangled up from your injury. I must have crossed a couple of wires.
Well, I hope they stay crossed, Flip thought, then felt another wave of embarrassment as he realized he’d shared the thought with Alp.
Yu-Lung's
PAT VOGT PUT HER GLASS of plum wine down and gazed around at the bright colors and subdued lighting of Yu-Lung's Chinese Pagoda. Her eyes eventually returned to her dinner guest across the table.
"I hope this place is satisfactory, James. It's one of the few I know in the area where I can vouch for the food, and that would be quiet enough for us to catch up."
James poured himself another cup of saké and nodded. “This is fine. I love good Asian food. Besides, the company and the con
versation is what’s most important to me.”
"That's a kind thing to say," Pat replied, blushing slightly. It had been several years since she'd been on a date, not that this was one; well, at least not precisely. Just two old friends who were catching up, right? So, how come she was so nervous, and had spent the afternoon primping in front of the mirror, and trying on a half dozen different outfits? Did you do all that sort of stuff just for an old friend?
"I've meant to ask you something for sometime now," James said as he took a sip of saké. "Whatever was the outcome of that first assignment we were on; you know the one where my friend, Jerry, was killed? I ask because, right after that incident where his ‘copter was caught in that explosion, I was reassigned. I tried asking around about it, but was pretty well stonewalled."
Pat felt her pulse climb by the mention of that first mission almost twenty years ago when she'd been working for the secret federal agency -B.I.U.F.O. (the Bureau of Investigation of Unidentified Flying Objects). James had been a sub-contractor and, as far as she knew, never fully realized for whom he was working. Unfortunately, she'd been sworn to silence about anything even remotely related to her work there, especially that first assignment that had brought James and her together.
“I thought I read something about some experimental plane going down around the Waynesboro area. That wasn’t far from where we were, was it?”
“Yeah, Waynesboro is probably the closest little town. Not many towns of any size in those North Carolina mountains, except maybe Asheville, but you know that. Aren't you from that area?" She could feel her palms grow sweaty. She took another sip of wine to cover her discomfort. She should have known better than to accept James' invitation to catch up on old times. Those old times were better left buried in the past.
"Yeah, that's right," James replied as he continued to stare at her with a slight smile on his face. "I figured that was one of the reasons I got the assignment. What about that story of some experimental plane?"
“Well, that’s what I read too,” Pat answered. Of course, that was the cover story B.I.U.F.O. put out to all the media in the area.
James nodded as though accepting the story. Pat started to take a breath but stopped as James reached out and grasped her hand that rested next to her wine glass. He leaned forward and spoke the next words softly. "You and I both know that was no experimental plane we saw. And the explosion wasn't from it crashing. Whatever it was had already crash landed. That explosion was from someone destroying evidence, wasn't it? Did my friend die as part of a government coverup?"
How do I answer that? Pat wondered as she began to pull her hand away but found it firmly caught in James’ much larger mitt. She was pretty sure it hadn’t been the Feds that had blown up the mysterious aircraft, but she couldn’t know that for certain. After all, she’d also been reassigned...well, actually forced to resign from her post with B.I.U.F.O.
She placed her other hand over the top of James'. "I'm sorry, I can't answer that question or any other questions about that particular assignment. I wish I could James, but I can't. I swore I'd never talk about that mission with anyone...not even a close friend like you." What a raw deal, Pat thought. All he's looking for is some closure about his flying buddy. Surely, I can give him something.
"Here's what I can tell you, James. Jerry's death was an accident. No one could have foreseen what happened on that mountain. I can't tell you for certain who caused the explosion that his helicopter was caught up in, but I don't think it was the government...at least not our government." Man, she was making a mess of this. This was supposed to be a pleasant evening with an old friend. Instead, it was dredging up old memories of one of the worst times of her life. She decided to try a different direction.
“Remember several years ago hearing about a private-funded genetics lab called Biogentrix?”
“Yeah, I think so,” James answered with a confused look on his face.
Pat pulled her hand gently out of his grasp and picked up her glass of wine. “Well, in a weird sort of way, that story was connected to what happened on that mountain.”
“Really? How?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
Pat saw a flash of anger cross James’ face.
“But I can tell you this,” Pat rushed on. “It’s my firm belief that the man behind Biogentrix was the same one who caused that explosion that took Jerry’s life, and that your friend’s death has been avenged.”
James poured himself another cup of saké and downed the whole thing in one gulp. "Really? How do you know? And don't you dare tell me you can't answer that question."
"I investigated that company quite extensively for...for a client," Pat said. It was probably better that James didn't know the client was herself trying to get some closure on the mountain explosion incident.
"But didn't that turn out to be some kind of hoax? Who was the guy that founded the company? Hamlin, or something like that?"
“Homlin,” Pat corrected him. “His name was Fredric Homlin.” Just saying the name sent a chill running through her body. “And yes, all the papers reported that the whole deal was a massive scam, but that’s not the point. The point is that Homlin didn’t get away with killing your friend.”
“How do you know that?”
Because I personally took care of the matter, Pat wanted to say, but instead answered, “I’m afraid I can’t answer that, but please believe me. It’s settled.”
James tapped his fingers on the table for several seconds as he contemplated what she’d said. Finally, he went to pour himself another cup of saké only to find the carafe empty. “Dead soldier,” he said as he turned the carafe upside down. “In more ways than one,” he added, then smiled. “Another glass of wine?”
“Yes, please,” Pat answered, taking a long, deep breath, her neck muscles slowly relaxing as well.
James signaled to the waitress for another round before leaning back in his chair.
“What’s it with you and cases involving genetic engineering labs? Has that become your specialty?” James asked.
“No, not really,” Pat answered. Funny, she hadn’t made the connection until just that moment. She wondered. Was there some connection to the two cases that she was missing?
Flip walked into Lionel's living room from collecting the special delivery package that had just been dropped off. He glanced down at Damba's lone suitcase sitting on the overstuffed couch where Damba had been sleeping.
“You’re packing light for our overseas trip,” Flip said as he finished opening the flat package in his hand.
Damba shrugged. “It’s easy to pack light when this is all you own,” he replied with a smile.
Flip nodded. He pulled a small book out of the package in his hands and dropped it on Damba’s open suitcase. “Well, be sure you keep this with you at all times.”
“What’s that?” Damba asked as he picked up the thin book.
“It’s your passport...illegal I might add, though given where it came from, I don’t think we’ll have any trouble using it.”
“Where did it come from?” Damba opened it and stared at the picture of himself. “So that’s why you needed my picture.”
"Yes," Flip replied. "And it came from Alp's new BFF, Chunk Robinson. He had to pull several strings to get it, but Alp appears to have quite a bit of influence on what he's willing to do for us."
“I would think so,” Damba replied as he closed the passport and dropped it back on his suitcase. “He was extraordinarily thankful to her for saving his youngest daughter’s life.”
“I can well imagine.” Flip glanced down at the suitcase again. “We’ll get you some more clothes later today. I need my business intern to look the part.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay you back,” Damba answered, noticeably embarrassed.
“Don’t worry about it. I can tell you’re a good kid, Damba, and that you care deeply for Alp. You’ll be paying me back by helping
me keep her safe and getting my other children home safely.”
Damba nodded. “I’d do that anyway. Alp’s and my destinies are intertwined.”
That’s an interesting way to think of it, Flip thought. I guess all our destinies are intertwined, at least for the foreseeable future.
“Oh, I have one more thing for you,” Flip said as he reached into his pant’s pockets and pulled out a brand new iPhone and handed it to Damba.
“It’ll be important that we stay in communication while we’re over there. I suspect we’ll be together most of the time, but just in case.”
“Wow!” Damba exclaimed as he turned the phone around in his hand. “I’ve seen my friend Zunga use one of these, but I never imagined having my own. Thanks.”
“No problem. Let me show you how to make phone calls and send text messages now. Later, I’ll show you some of the other cool things it can do.”
Later that afternoon, Flip dropped Damba off at Lionel's and watched as the young boy struggled to get his packages of new clothes through the front door. Flip started driving over to Denise's where he was now staying, but then remembered he'd meant to remind Damba to remove all the tags from the clothes before packing them. He thought about texting the boy but didn't know if Damba would know to check his phone when it beeped, so instead, he drove around the block.
Returning to Lionel's he noticed the front door still ajar. Damba must have left it opened as he worked his way indoors with the packages. Flip strolled into the living room and noticed the stack of bags lay near Damba's suitcase, but there was no sign of the boy. Flip started towards the kitchen, remembering how young boys were always hungry. He heard Damba's voice talking to someone else. He knew Lionel was probably still at work, but perhaps the girls were back from their shopping spree.
As Flip pushed the kitchen door open he saw Damba with his back to him talking on his new phone. Had he gotten a solicitation call already, Flip wondered?
Before Flip could say anything, Damba twirled around, a shocked look on his face.
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