Read Online Dreams Unleashed by Linda Hawley - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Hawley
are only six operating steam clocks in the world. This is one of them. The others are in Japan, a museum in Indiana, two more are here in British Columbia, and there's one in London, England, at the Chelsea Farmer's Market there..."
Just then the clock woke up, interrupting Paul, as a crowd suddenly appeared---materializing out of nowhere. Fantastic blasts of steam were released as chimes began to play. The crowd's attention was on the clock as it tooted its little tune. Ending the spectacle was a deep foghorn sound.
"I feel like I've witnessed a piece of history," I remarked.
"Well...I hate to burst your warm-and-fuzzy bubble, but it was actually built in 1977."
I laughed.
We walked on, Paul pointing out old buildings and their place in Gastown's history. We stopped for dinner at Finch's; it was a small French café that reminded me of the small neighborhood cafes in Paris. The café was shaped like a wedge on a Y corner, and we sat near a window. Paul had a baguette filled with Brie, prosciutto, roasted walnuts, and tomato. I also had a baguette, but mine was filled with Brie, avocado, red onion, cucumber, lettuce, and tomato. We sat and talked as we ate. Finally, we walked back to the Pan Pacific. When we got to the hotel elevators, I turned to him.
"Thanks for dinner, and for being my tour guide. I had a really nice time."
"It was my pleasure," he offered sincerely.
"Do you think we can keep our meeting here a secret between us? I really don't want to be the target of office gossip, especially since I'm a new employee at AlterHydro."
"No problem. I can understand that. But just so you know, Ann, I'm pretty good at keeping secrets..."
The elevator opened, interrupting Paul, and people streamed out. I thought I recognized an Asian man who passed by me as he got off the elevator. I turned to get a better look at him and could only see his back. I felt that I knew him, but I couldn't recall from where.
Paul got into the elevator, and I followed him, distracted.
"So I'll see you on Monday," he offered formally.
"Yeah."
We stood in silence.
The elevator opened on his floor, and he got out.
He suddenly turned and held the elevator door, looking at me saying, "Thanks for going with me, Ann."
"You're welcome...I had fun. Bye," I warmly offered with a little wave of my hand.
He reluctantly removed his hand from the door, and it closed.
I rode up to my floor. I had two hours before the GOG job, enough time to soak in the tub.
Chapter 7
BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA
The Year 2012
After my bath, I ran the iron over my clothes again and redressed. I left myself twenty minutes to walk to the Gaslight Brasserie, having spotted it during my walk with Paul. I made my way down Cordova and onto Water Street, past the steam clock, then two more blocks, and turned right onto Carrall Street. It was only a block down from there.
It was a lively place this Saturday; it looked full from the outside. I headed toward the back, guessing that's where the room was.
I asked a passing waiter, "Can you tell me where the private room is?"
"Right back there. See the guy at the door?" he nodded with his head.
It looked like a door to the bathroom. As I walked closer, I could see that it was marked, Private . There was a mean-looking man standing outside. A GOG bodyguard, maybe; he looked French.
"Hi," I offered, feeling him out.
"You're expected?" he asked, serious.
"Yes."
"And?" he asked.
"Newton," I confirmed the passcode.
He offered a forced smile of recognition, then opened the door.
Here goes nothing .
I entered a small room with a single, round wooden table surrounded by chairs. The walls were brick. There were no windows. I could see the pingers. Pingers were electronic devices that measured manmade energy, like bugs, cell phones, wires, recording devices, cameras, or anything that transmitted or received a signal. Two of them sat opposite one another against the walls to the left and right of the entrance,
Just then the clock woke up, interrupting Paul, as a crowd suddenly appeared---materializing out of nowhere. Fantastic blasts of steam were released as chimes began to play. The crowd's attention was on the clock as it tooted its little tune. Ending the spectacle was a deep foghorn sound.
"I feel like I've witnessed a piece of history," I remarked.
"Well...I hate to burst your warm-and-fuzzy bubble, but it was actually built in 1977."
I laughed.
We walked on, Paul pointing out old buildings and their place in Gastown's history. We stopped for dinner at Finch's; it was a small French café that reminded me of the small neighborhood cafes in Paris. The café was shaped like a wedge on a Y corner, and we sat near a window. Paul had a baguette filled with Brie, prosciutto, roasted walnuts, and tomato. I also had a baguette, but mine was filled with Brie, avocado, red onion, cucumber, lettuce, and tomato. We sat and talked as we ate. Finally, we walked back to the Pan Pacific. When we got to the hotel elevators, I turned to him.
"Thanks for dinner, and for being my tour guide. I had a really nice time."
"It was my pleasure," he offered sincerely.
"Do you think we can keep our meeting here a secret between us? I really don't want to be the target of office gossip, especially since I'm a new employee at AlterHydro."
"No problem. I can understand that. But just so you know, Ann, I'm pretty good at keeping secrets..."
The elevator opened, interrupting Paul, and people streamed out. I thought I recognized an Asian man who passed by me as he got off the elevator. I turned to get a better look at him and could only see his back. I felt that I knew him, but I couldn't recall from where.
Paul got into the elevator, and I followed him, distracted.
"So I'll see you on Monday," he offered formally.
"Yeah."
We stood in silence.
The elevator opened on his floor, and he got out.
He suddenly turned and held the elevator door, looking at me saying, "Thanks for going with me, Ann."
"You're welcome...I had fun. Bye," I warmly offered with a little wave of my hand.
He reluctantly removed his hand from the door, and it closed.
I rode up to my floor. I had two hours before the GOG job, enough time to soak in the tub.
Chapter 7
BRITISH COLUMBIA, CANADA
The Year 2012
After my bath, I ran the iron over my clothes again and redressed. I left myself twenty minutes to walk to the Gaslight Brasserie, having spotted it during my walk with Paul. I made my way down Cordova and onto Water Street, past the steam clock, then two more blocks, and turned right onto Carrall Street. It was only a block down from there.
It was a lively place this Saturday; it looked full from the outside. I headed toward the back, guessing that's where the room was.
I asked a passing waiter, "Can you tell me where the private room is?"
"Right back there. See the guy at the door?" he nodded with his head.
It looked like a door to the bathroom. As I walked closer, I could see that it was marked, Private . There was a mean-looking man standing outside. A GOG bodyguard, maybe; he looked French.
"Hi," I offered, feeling him out.
"You're expected?" he asked, serious.
"Yes."
"And?" he asked.
"Newton," I confirmed the passcode.
He offered a forced smile of recognition, then opened the door.
Here goes nothing .
I entered a small room with a single, round wooden table surrounded by chairs. The walls were brick. There were no windows. I could see the pingers. Pingers were electronic devices that measured manmade energy, like bugs, cell phones, wires, recording devices, cameras, or anything that transmitted or received a signal. Two of them sat opposite one another against the walls to the left and right of the entrance,
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