No Inner Limit
Page 36
Inside the barn workroom, Joshua laid out the three different colored stick-on labels on one of the benches. Yellow would be for expectant mothers. Blue the version that excluded the cactus flower but elevated hemp and kava. The red label would be saved on the premise. It would contain the limpet and peyote, and would be saved for those unfortunates suffering from cancers. He would enlist the drawing ability of Namanda to mark each of the labels accordingly.
His cell phone rang. Incoming call on the old phone. Dr. Jamison Vance.
“Hello Joshua, how are things there?”
“Well, some things have changed a little, but not much is all that new. Adele and I were just talking about you, and I was going to call you before long. Did the NIL arrive?”
“It did, about four hours ago, and thank you. I would have called you then but I was waiting for the Woods Hole Oceanographic update on the radiation levels near shore. I just now obtained it and read through it. I’ll fax it to you, but the important part you will be pleased to hear is that the Becquerel levels in the near shore to southern California and the Baja are safe. Very safe, with less than one thousand Becquerel count per cubic meter. That’s under the threshold the EPA sets for safe drinking water. The cesium-134 show absolutely no increase, and only a very small fraction of increase in the level of the longer living cesium-137. There is debris starting to wash ashore, north of here, Alaska down to the Oregon coast. Debris from the tsunami just now making it to our continent. None of it is testing radioactive. Joshua, I think you are in good shape to keep using the limpet.”
“That is excellent news, Van. Best news I’ve heard today. Wonderful.”
“Will you need to use what I inherited from my brother?”
“I don’t think so, at this time, at least. Something else is working along those lines, but it may not be a permanent fix, so we will have to keep the lines open.”
“OK. Just let me know. I have already given out one jar of NIL to a family who has a son bedfast at home with the measles. We’ll see how it goes with him, and I’ll get back with you on that.”
“Please do. And please do send the fax to me. You have a great evening, Van. Good to hear from you.”
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Namanda and Shreya were beautifully dressed, elegant actually. Namanda wore a long sleeved turquoise silk blouse, and pleated tan slacks. Shreya’s blouse, of silk, had a chartreuse background that floated medium blue lotus blossoms. They sat at the lounge table, having just finished the last round of NIL for the day. Joshua had given Namanda a felt marker to letter the yellow labels. He watched her craft her penmanship. Her skin, soft, glowing, the color of coffee overly creamed. Joshua had to admit, she was the most beautiful female he had ever seen, or probably ever would see. He fought back melancholia. It would be a hollow day when he would say goodbye to her, perhaps never to see her again. There was nothing for her here. She had the tools to scale important, and challenging heights; to become a significant someone, a game changer. He loved her. He woke himself from the saddening rumination.
“Amit has made it safely to the mission in St. Louis. Paul texted me that he is safe and sound.”
Namanda and Shreya high fived each other and giggled.
“We are going to go to Autry’s house to watch the television interview. We’ll leave when it starts to turn dark.”
Namanda smiled as did Shreya. They weren’t talking. There was no response from either. Both ladies were far away, yet so near, and the air was so thick with romantic currents that a machete wouldn’t slice through them.
Joshua rose from the table, unable to stay in the setting. He was woefully inexperienced in this type of consuming emotion. Yes, there was Kitty, back at Purdue, the only female he had ever kissed romantically, but that was a half-life ago, and this time it was deeper. Gut stirring. He excused himself, telling them he wanted to shower and change, and then it would be time to leave.
In the cottage bathroom, he placed the flat of his hands on the sink. He wondered if Mary Magdalene was much older than Namanda. He shook his head at the pointlessness.
The stressors of today were like a rotating carousel, with each passing scene lending to his uneasiness. Amit leaving, a stranger in this country with little command of the language. The Police were more than asking questions; they were searching, and suspicious. The television interview, though nontoxic, charged his nerves. Autry’s brush with the State cops bothered him. Avian flu virus reaching out with deadly tentacles. Adele’s bland undercurrent….the possibility of a sell-out. Then Namanda, and the futility of even thinking about it. Dark thoughts, an infrequent place to visit for him. He was reminded of a scripture…… ‘My peace I leave with you. Let not your heart be troubled, or be afraid’. That memory helped, yet the portent of an impending tragedy was inescapable.
+ + + + + + + + + +
The Tennessee State Trooper slowly cruised the rest stop. There, seated on a concrete bench next to the concessions, was a blonde woman, apparently by herself. He checked the photograph provided to him. No doubt, it was the Dobbelaere woman.
She held her breath as the cop approached on foot. She had that sinking feeling.
“You need to come with me, ma’am. I am going to save you some cab fare.”
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Credit card usage over the phone, ma’am. And the exact location the cabbie was to come pick you up and take you to Knoxville. That’s where we’ll be going, to the airport. So you see, it’s not a bad thing. Saved you some money.”
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not at all, ma’am. At least not with me you’re not. A U.S. Marshall that will be your airplane seat neighbor might have different ideas. I am just detaining you. It’s for your own safety.”
The cop loaded Tracy’s luggage into the trunk of the patrol car. He didn’t handcuff her.
“Where will I be going? I mean in the airplane?”
“That I don’t know, but the Marshall will tell you that information. There’s more good news, too. Your ticket is already paid for. You are getting a free ride.”
Ankur placed a call to Ashok Banerjee, the RAW operative in the middle Tennessee area. He instructed the op to hightail it to the Knoxville airport and await the arrival of the Dobbelaere woman. She would be arriving by Yellow Cab within the hour. If capture was unattainable, use lethal means to dispose of her. He suggested using a needle. Potassium chloride. Walk briskly by her, stab her in the neck. Disappear. Just don’t get caught.
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Namanda shrieked, then just about fell over laughing. She had not seen Joshua in blue jeans and a flannel shirt, all handsomely parked under a beige, floppy brimmed Panama.
Joshua smiled. The shower and change of venue had improved his somewhat flummoxed outlook. “OK, pilgrims. Let’s saddle up and ride.” Then it dawned on him that the John Wayne imitation, performed as poorly as it was, would not have registered with two Indian women even if it were Oscar worthy.