loose white gown, and tied to a large stake. She struggled against her bondage. Her lips were saying something, but I was too far away to hear. Behind the spiked swords, beneath the blindfold was Laura Bishop. Then my attention was centered on the armored knight lurking outside the ring of standing swords.
As I watched him, he hefted his own lethal sword and swung it around his head, never taking his eyes from Laura Bishop. Even from where I hid, I heard the swoosh, swoosh of his weapon as he wielded it around and around, readying for a strike. He planned to execute her.
Laura cried out, and my attention returned to her. She was wearing the same clothes she wore at the press conference, battered sweatpants and a soiled T-shirt. She was participating in some bizarre tableau of the Eight of Swords, a minor tarot card, but one with threatened violence. The violence could sometimes emerge from one’s inability to change an ethic or philosophy. There was nothing philosophic about the scene before me. It was lethal.
Like a heroic fool, I pushed myself over the top of the dune and bellowed at the knight. “Hey, stop! Look over here.” I skidded on my rear all the way down the dune. When I jarred to a stop, I clambered up and ran toward the knight. He was within a few inches of taking off Laura’s head. Her hair riffled from the air displaced by the swiping giant sword.
Without missing a step or a swing, the knight turned toward me, away from Laura. Like an automaton, he walked toward me, face hidden by his helmet’s facemask. I could see his eyes, though. They were lifeless and remorseless, committed to my destruction without an afterthought.
“Yeah, come get me, you piece of dreck!” I turned and sprinted down the beach feeling my toes desperately pushing into squeaky fake sand. I glanced behind. He was following me, leaving Laura safe for the moment.
I ran faster, then glanced back again. He was advancing at the same unyielding speed. I had time, and I didn’t want him to refocus on Laura. My need to save her overwhelmed any desire to save myself. That’s new, was my fleeting thought.
The cramp hit in the arch of my left foot. Pain steamed through my foot and ankle. I cried out, stopped, looked down at my foot, then looked up into the face of Elizabeth Stratton.
My slippers were on still smarting feet. My woven Afghani rug was under the coffee table between Elizabeth and me. No ocean, no sword-wielding knight, and no Laura Bishop. Had all that been real?
“Who’s the blonde, Senator?” I wasn’t about to give her Laura Bishop’s name.
She watched me, eyes narrowed, for several seconds. “So you really do have some uncanny ability. My advisor wasn’t trying to set me up. Describe this blonde you mentioned.”
“I don’t think I have to. But she has something on you. You’re worried she’ll go public with whatever it is. And you want me to stop her.”
“She’s not much of a threat to my campaign. I just want to know if she needs a small derailment. Since you are under the impression she has something on me, then it’s clear she needs to be…distracted. I think that’s where you come in, Ms. Rosten. Isn’t that what you do? Distract people?”
“With the proper inducement, I can sometimes send people down another path. I make no guarantees, but I usually achieve my clients’ aims.”
“And you do so without causing harm?” Her look of uncertainty told me more than anything she said.
“Depends upon your definition of harm. But I never physically threaten a subject, just realign a trajectory.”
“By what methods, may I ask?”
“That’s privileged information, Senator. What is the woman’s name?”
“Bishop, Laura Bishop. She’s an attorney in Seattle. I have a file here with her particulars.” She reached into her purse and drew out a little flash drive and set it on the table. “Oh, and here is my first payment to you. I’ll give you a second equal payment on completion of
As I watched him, he hefted his own lethal sword and swung it around his head, never taking his eyes from Laura Bishop. Even from where I hid, I heard the swoosh, swoosh of his weapon as he wielded it around and around, readying for a strike. He planned to execute her.
Laura cried out, and my attention returned to her. She was wearing the same clothes she wore at the press conference, battered sweatpants and a soiled T-shirt. She was participating in some bizarre tableau of the Eight of Swords, a minor tarot card, but one with threatened violence. The violence could sometimes emerge from one’s inability to change an ethic or philosophy. There was nothing philosophic about the scene before me. It was lethal.
Like a heroic fool, I pushed myself over the top of the dune and bellowed at the knight. “Hey, stop! Look over here.” I skidded on my rear all the way down the dune. When I jarred to a stop, I clambered up and ran toward the knight. He was within a few inches of taking off Laura’s head. Her hair riffled from the air displaced by the swiping giant sword.
Without missing a step or a swing, the knight turned toward me, away from Laura. Like an automaton, he walked toward me, face hidden by his helmet’s facemask. I could see his eyes, though. They were lifeless and remorseless, committed to my destruction without an afterthought.
“Yeah, come get me, you piece of dreck!” I turned and sprinted down the beach feeling my toes desperately pushing into squeaky fake sand. I glanced behind. He was following me, leaving Laura safe for the moment.
I ran faster, then glanced back again. He was advancing at the same unyielding speed. I had time, and I didn’t want him to refocus on Laura. My need to save her overwhelmed any desire to save myself. That’s new, was my fleeting thought.
The cramp hit in the arch of my left foot. Pain steamed through my foot and ankle. I cried out, stopped, looked down at my foot, then looked up into the face of Elizabeth Stratton.
My slippers were on still smarting feet. My woven Afghani rug was under the coffee table between Elizabeth and me. No ocean, no sword-wielding knight, and no Laura Bishop. Had all that been real?
“Who’s the blonde, Senator?” I wasn’t about to give her Laura Bishop’s name.
She watched me, eyes narrowed, for several seconds. “So you really do have some uncanny ability. My advisor wasn’t trying to set me up. Describe this blonde you mentioned.”
“I don’t think I have to. But she has something on you. You’re worried she’ll go public with whatever it is. And you want me to stop her.”
“She’s not much of a threat to my campaign. I just want to know if she needs a small derailment. Since you are under the impression she has something on me, then it’s clear she needs to be…distracted. I think that’s where you come in, Ms. Rosten. Isn’t that what you do? Distract people?”
“With the proper inducement, I can sometimes send people down another path. I make no guarantees, but I usually achieve my clients’ aims.”
“And you do so without causing harm?” Her look of uncertainty told me more than anything she said.
“Depends upon your definition of harm. But I never physically threaten a subject, just realign a trajectory.”
“By what methods, may I ask?”
“That’s privileged information, Senator. What is the woman’s name?”
“Bishop, Laura Bishop. She’s an attorney in Seattle. I have a file here with her particulars.” She reached into her purse and drew out a little flash drive and set it on the table. “Oh, and here is my first payment to you. I’ll give you a second equal payment on completion of
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