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###  **ISBN:** 978-1-311360-82-3

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PUBLISHED BY:

Lotta Bangs on Smashwords

### Copyright 29 June 2015 by Lotta Bangs  
edited 29 October 2015

Cover by Willsin Rowe @coverageart

Taj's Early Years 62,500 words

Parts of this book were originally published in Getting to Galen Copyright 18 October 2012

### Cover title fonts: Benjamin, Calligraph Script Semibold

###

Dedicated to my dear fannish friend Peter Mackay, who inspired me to make the other books in the series as they are.

I hope you get to read them where you are now, Peter, or perhaps in the next life.

Also dedicated in homage to James Cameron, whose creation

Dark Angel, inspired me to start writing, though a lot of the basic ideas existed in my imagination long before. Thank you.

However, my characters wouldn't obey and play nice.

They each went their own twisted way.

I think that proved for the best.

###

Acknowledgements:

My thanks

to Ashleigh Willis and Lerissa Marlin for veterinary advice.

My thanks to the World Wide Web and especially to Wikipedia

for many abstruse little pieces of information,

And as always, my gratitude to

the lovely, bossy but shy Amanda for useful editorial comments and for teaching me

to paragraph properly.

I am forever in your debt.

Please note that the double caret quotation marks signify Maggie's speaking through a physical computer or communication system. The sideways-V's denote telepathy. Double asterisks are for silent ear-bone communication, and mixed asterisks and quotes are for spoken ear-bone communication.

As Taj is American, I use US spelling for her story which is written in an informal journal form, except that I refuse to use any of the really execrable spellings that have sneaked into Webster's in recent years.

###

The Power of Love Part 1

Approaching Galen 1:

Taj's Early Years

Table of Contents

The Power of Love 1: Approaching Galen 1:

Taj's Early Years: Book 2 Taj

Chapter 1 Breakout

Chapter 2 What Mother Taught me

Chapter 3 Taj's Early Life

Chapter 4 Reaching Fermina

Chapter 5 Becoming Alessandra

Chapter 6 First Day at the US Embassy

Chapter 7 Second Day at the Embassy

Chapter 8 Trying to be Normal

Chapter 9 Branching Out

Chapter 10 Meeting Armando

Chapter 11 New Partner & Assistants

Chapter 12 First Breakthroughs

Chapter 13 Discovering Treasure

Chapter 14 Upgrading the second Dojo

Chapter 15 Upgrading the third Dojo

Chapter 16 Paul's Sisters Join

Chapter 17 Empowering Battered Women

Chapter 18 Opening the Fourth Dojo

Chapter 19 Planning Ahead

Chapter 20 Buenos Aires Dojo

Chapter 21 Bringing in Emil

Chapter 22 Fighting Julius

Chapter 23 A Declaration of Sorts

Chapter 24 Planning the French Dojo

Chapter 25 Expanding the Curriculum

Chapter 26 Enlarging my Empire

Chapter 27 The French Dojo

Chapter 28 Dareau

Chapter 29 A Snub & Honors

Chapter 30 The Devastating Blow

Author's Note

The Power of Love Part 1

Approaching Galen 1

Taj's Early Years

Book 2 Taj

Chapter 1

Breakout

It was our grins that made Ryger suspicious. Ava caught that too, smiled even more widely, her teeth flashing brilliantly in her sooty face as she stepped forward, saluted smartly and said: "Platoons A, B and C all present and almost correct sir!" As if we had been amused by our lack of uniform.

We were all dressed in motley. Some wore boots, others sports shoes. Jeans or track pants and sweaters had been hastily pulled on over pajamas, all topped with unzipped regulation, puffy down coats.

The younger children with less control, their eyes watering tracks down their smoke-blackened faces, held the coat flaps over their noses to breathe through.

Ryger wasn't fooled and aimed his fancy, non-regulation, pearl-handled Colt .45 directly at her. "Commander, take the company back to the dormitory."

We had come so close—along the endless wide institutional corridor of our wing, past the smoke-obscured wired glass windows set high in the outer wall. Cameras couldn't see through thick smoke any better than ordinary humans and we had ensured the few gas masks were misplaced.

Holding onto each other, we had pressed blindly through the roiling smoke, glad of its density, relying on it to keep the unaugmented officers at bay. Now, having turned the last corner before the exit we could smell freedom and the blessed outdoor freshness.

The acrid smoke swirled out through the open doors behind Colonel Ryger—open only so he could breathe and see us with the electricity off—and Ryger had only one officer with him, Eddie Richards, holding a powerful torch on us.

We had worried the doors might be locked, hence my fire ax.

"But sir, the quarters are full of smoke. Everything's wet. We put out a small fire, but there's still smoke coming in from somewhere. We'll be damaged. The whole building could go up in flames at any moment."

"You'll recover. Take them back. That's an order, Commander."

Before he finished speaking, Ava reached out her arms and gave Evan and me a little push away from her.

Ryger shot her as Evan heaved the extinguisher he carried at Eddie's head and I flung my fire ax at Ryger, aiming low, as even in my rage I couldn't bear to destroy this man who had tried to make me into a killer.

Though I had never thrown an ax before, I am naturally left handed, and the blade bit satisfactorily deep into the side of Ryger's right knee.

He crumpled almost as fast as Ava had.

The company poured after Evan and out the door.

Lim collected Richards' torch on his way.

To ease her passing, I sent a great gush of love to Ava, pushed up my sleeves and quickly emptied her coat of items that might give away our plans.

Her weak return love flare, using her little remaining strength, broke me up.

I immediately took a grip on my feelings and buried them deep. This was not the time for weakness.

She'd been hit high in the heart area, possibly in the aorta, as the blood spurted extravagantly.

I grabbed the metal hip flask she'd dropped, booted Ryger's jaw hard as I went past, feeling the bones shatter, and fled after the last stragglers.

I wiped Ava's blood off my hands, the flask and the plastic-wrapped packages in a slushy pile of dirty snow before transferring them to my own capacious inner pockets.

Still sending Ava love, I raced to the nearest of our two predetermined crossing areas, almost midway between the two outer gates. That one was the least accessible to vehicles.

* * *

I saw little 6-year-old Cass, easily recognizable by her bright blonde curls. She was being dragged along by a guard, so quickly that she could not keep on her feet.

It was an obvious trap.

Vene was approaching carefully, using all available cover.

She knew I would help, broke into the open, and feinted with a kick to the captor's knee, before springing up and slicing the side of her hand across his nose, shattering it.

When his companion leapt out, gun drawn, I had my sling ready, shot first at his gun hand and then his temple, knocking him unconscious.

As Vene freed Cass I retreated.

Neither of us was prepared for the third guard who grabbed Vene.

Cass skedaddled.

Evan approached from behind the guard and jumped onto him so he lost his grip on Vene as he fell, but managed to grab and cuff Evan.

Vene raced after Cass.

I slung two stones at the guard and knocked him out.

I collected all my thrown stones and found the guard's key-ring, but somehow Evan had already broken the cuffs.

We fled together, finding Lim and Vene again, waiting outside the wire. Our group ran together for a while.

We stopped to don our primitive overshoes—three simple large ovals of rabbit or other furs, worn fur-side-out and laced tightly though holes cut in the edges. These spread our weight over a wider area, disguising and softening our footprints as moccasins do, but more so.

I shared out Ava's water, stones and furs, keeping the smallest, giving Lim the middle-sized pair and Evan the largest. I kept Ava's sling too. Then we separated and ran alone.

* * *

It was at the end of winter and cold, with mushy snow on the ground. The thaw had already started and streams were moving again.

Our hair was near its maximum permitted length and we had prepared well.

I wore boots, jeans and a fleecy cotton top, with a cotton blanket wrapped and belted around my body under my knee-length nightdress. The unzipped, puffy jacket camouflaged my extra bulk while appearing to have been grabbed in a hurry.

I also had 3 very large, heavy-duty, black plastic, garden waste bags, 2 coils of nylon rope, 2 flat metal water canteens, 5 small bottles of water and some packaged food in the many inside pockets. There were also dark-colored spare clothes and eight rounded stones for my sling.

The Clan of the Cave Bear had been my favorite book. Circulated by one of the medics, the author described how to scrape and cure animal skins and then make slings.

On the internet you can clearly see the shape of a sling, much longer than you'd expect, in pictures of the statue of David.

We'd all secretly made our own and practiced every chance we had.

Each of us had learned Ayla's trick of throwing two stones in rapid succession. I and three of the others could now throw four stones fairly quickly, with great force and accuracy.

* * *

I had slept well the previous night, so could run for two days or more before tiring.

We all knew to avoid the main roads, to orient by the stars. Mostly, I followed deer trails where possible—a trick we had learnt from the TY6s, which the officials hopefully knew nothing about.

I ran through the forest, staying in the mountains inside the trees. I avoided snow fields where I would have left tracks visible from the air.

Each time I stopped to reconnoiter, I sent out more love to everybody to encourage them to keep going.

Nobody answered, but they may just have been too busy or out of breath.

Finding a fast narrow waterway, I stripped off my upper garments.

I bunched stuff into the coat pockets, wrapped that around me over the blanket, with the tripled plastic bags over the lot. I tied these tightly under my armpits, wrapping the ends of the plastic several times around the pre-stretched nylon ropes.

I used yoga techniques to lengthen and narrow my chest, emptying my lungs as hard as possible to get the ropes tight enough to keep everything inside dry.

Only my naked arms, shoulders and head were free.

The bank was rocky. I didn't need to worry about slide marks, so sat down and eased myself carefully into the gelid water. It was less of a shock than expected, now I had cooled in the freezing wind.

I swam downstream, drinking delicious mouthfuls freely until I found I needed frequent bladder breaks. These necessitated getting out of the water and the bags, not fun in the arctic gusts.

I collected several dozen pretty rounded gemstones, mostly agates and chalcedony, in one sheltered bay.

The safest way to avoid leaving footprints was to grab hold of an overhanging branch or several, to pull myself up into a tree. I would urinate down the other side or from an adjacent tree before rewrapping and diving in again.

This wasted so much time I was more sparing with the drinks afterwards, though I collected three more lots of attractive stones. Gemstones are even harder than ordinary pebbles, but easier to explain away.

Occasionally I needed to descend to defecate. There is always a good space under the pine branches, where I used a stick to dig a small hole among the rotting old pine needles and covered it to keep away flies.

The air trapped inside the bags and jacket down aided my buoyancy and would reveal any leaks quickly, though I had no way to patch them. The blanket, clothes and hard exercise kept most of me warm enough for comfort, and the cotton blanket wicked away my sweat.

To avoid tearing the bags I had to swim like a fish, keeping both legs together and moving them up and down. This propelled me faster than my arms could manage alone, and became easier as I grew accustomed to the movement.

When I grew really tired I took a big drink of river water, again climbed up into a tree, stripped and urinated. Climbed down again for a good wash, wrapped up warmly, ate some food, and tied myself into a branch fork, sending love to my friends and my love fountain until I fell asleep. The love fountain was the only one who reciprocated.

My bladder usually woke me after three hours and I would set out again.

I noticed each time I climbed out that the climate had grown much warmer and the trees had changed. There were fewer evergreens and more bare deciduous trees which were easier to climb into.

Also the river water was now dirtier, so I had to use my bottled store.

I spent some time one afternoon making a small smokeless fire, boiling up water in my metal canteens and decanting it into plastic bottles swirled in the river water to prevent their warping. Iodine would have worked better, but we hadn't scored any.

The river must have been flowing southwards sometimes, not just east as I had judged.

But it's easy to get directions confused when riding a current. That's one reason so many people drown in rip tides.

Chapter 2

What Mother Taught Me

Swimming becomes automatic after a while. I just plowed on through the water, arm over arm, legs kicking rhythmically, mind awhirl with memories and regrets.

I was distressed at losing Ava. She had been the best of us. It was so unfair that she had died before we escaped. No child should die at only eight years. Neither should any child have to live as we had.

At least, her last breaths were of clean air flowing through the open doors.

Ava would probably have still been alive if I hadn't passed on what my mother had taught me, but her leadership and sacrifice gave the rest of us the chance to live free.

* * *

I am Taj. My mother named me. Taj means 'the finest, the very best of the best'. I have tried to live up to her expectations, but it has not been easy.

She first spoke to me in utero, probably accentuating the spoken words with telepathy, so that I understood her clearly from the first.

Mother always passed on her love and hopes for me. She told me about the world outside the wire—how beautiful and free it was, though dangerous too. And she warned me always to be very careful, to hide my abilities as much as possible. Not to show off what I could do until the other children could do the same things.

But also not to be slower than the others, so I wouldn't be left behind.

And always to think carefully before speaking to the adults. To reveal as little as possible about my friends or myself.

My mother gave me practical advice as well: always to be aware of my surroundings and to look out for spies and listening devices. She explained how to network with the other children, to choose a strong leader, to form cells with different tasks. To keep a lookout, to spy on the adults who would be around us, to learn their plans. To be prepared.

She said the grown-ups here weren't loving people. We couldn't expect anything but harshness from them. We should never trust any of them, because they didn't care for me or the other children I would grow up with. But I did find one whom we could trust.

I have many memories of my mother's speaking to me, filling me with her love as she fed me her milk. She apologized for birthing me in such a terrible place where she would soon have to leave me. She told me she loved me and would never stop trying to get me back.

And she said that someday we would be together again.

My mother said my life here would be harsh and difficult. When things became too unbearable, I should remember her loving me. And try hard to love all my friends who also would be suffering. To teach them to love and be kind and supportive to each other.

They too, had been taken from their mothers. So they also needed to be loved and comforted. She said that all children needed love to help them grow straight and true.

We ourselves had to provide the love we needed for each other.

She also said that I should remember that she would always love me. And that she would be outside in the world waiting for me.

And then she was gone.

Chapter 3

Taj's Early Life

So I already understood language when I was born. But I didn't speak until the other children in the nursery did. And I used only the sounds and words they spoke.

For years afterwards I woke in the night, feeling my mother's presence envelop me in her love. I heard her voice inside my head telling me once more that she loved me and that we would find each other again.

I wanted to speak to her too, but I didn't know how to reach her. There were so many questions I needed answers for, but I couldn't ask them.

I often dreamed of her too. Her message was always the same: to remember that she loved me, to be wary of the adults, and to love and comfort all my friends.

So I did love the other children in the dormitory and tried to touch each of them at least once every day, and to comfort them whenever the adults hurt us.

* * *

There were originally over a hundred of us TY7s, some a little older, some younger, and our company was divided into platoons of 20 to 24 children.

Only I had been named, and I was one of the oldest. Eventually the others too all chose names which we used among ourselves. The adults called us by the numbers we had tattooed high on our right upper arms.

One girl was a natural leader. She was very intelligent, big and strong with a dominant personality and a certain way about her we all respected. The other kids in our platoon looked up to her. Ava became our platoon leader and eventually the Company Commander, and Evan was her second.

I managed to tell Ava most of what my mother had told me. She put the ideas into effect, organizing our company into five platoons and then into small squads of four to eight persons specializing in certain functions. The cell idea caught on and the older companies reorganized themselves on the same principle.

There were four boys and one other girl in my squadron. Our task was spying, mostly eavesdropping. There were also other squads of specialized spies with different tasks and talents in other platoons.

Evan, who was big and stocky, was our squad leader and platoon strategist. He reported back to Ava. The three other boys, Vene and I were small and skinny.

Lim excelled at being unobtrusive, somehow managing to disappear into any background. Even when I knew he was there I often forgot about him, so he was a natural for this work.

Zade had a talent for finding the listening devices and soon learned to temporarily disable them to give us privacy.

Cute looking Tam and Vene were our charmers. They both had big, liquid, long-lashed eyes and lovely dimpled smiles. And Tam had curls, even with a buzz cut.

They managed to get around a few of the more amenable adults and get special favors, such as comics, and books and videos that weren't part of our curriculum.

Several mushy romance novels were a revelation for us.

Despite our days being crammed with planned activities, we managed to organize an extensive internal spy network, not just in our company, but including the older companies too.

We bugged some of the adults' areas to discover what they might be planning for us, cobbling together the bugs from parts of their devices, which we sabotaged so they didn't work properly, and by stealing others from stores.

We small ones who could easily wriggle into tiny spaces, took shifts just hiding in closets adjoining the adults' dining and rec. rooms. We listened in with the aid of paper cup megaphones and our heightened hearing.

Vene and I did that a lot as we both had enhancements that let us function without much sleep. She and I were usually paired with one of the boys, all of whom were very light sleepers and could be awoken in an instant to listen in on anything either of us thought important.

Two sets of ears were always better than one.

Because we worked together and had to trust and depend on each other so much, I became great friends with each of the boys. Several times, they helped me evade discovery or provided me with an excuse to be caught out of bed.

And many times, Evan would appear and move us out of where we could have been trapped just before some patrol would do a spot check of that area.

Lim was especially good at sneaking around. He got into the kitchens and stole food from the carts prepared for late shifts. He'd fill his pockets, and give me some, so when one of us did get sprung, they could say they'd woken hungry and gone looking for something to eat.

My most special friend was Vene. We were very close. Sometimes, we could read each other's minds, like some identical twins are supposed to be able to do. We sent each other private messages, and passed on warnings.

Yet we had been born to different mothers.

Vene was about five months younger, with no memories of her mother. I wondered whether we may have been started from the same mother's eggs and gestated separately.

Physically, we were fairly similar, both small and dark-haired with dark brown eyes. Vene was prettier. Her hair was thicker, much more luxuriant, and grew faster than mine, even with our short buzz cuts.

We were both careful never to reveal how little sleep we needed. And we always slept in whenever given the chance, enjoying the luxuries of being cozy and dreaming.

Because we were almost always together, I easily loved everyone in our platoon and especially our squad. Whenever I had the chance, I also loved children in the other platoons that I could reach, making eye contact, smiling and touching them.

A friendly smile, a touch in passing and a hard hug couldn't be overheard and was rarely observed. Many of the other children adopted my methods to connect with each other. Soon this too spread throughout Typhon to the older companies.

We all knew there were listening devices planted everywhere in the buildings and grounds. Whoever found a new one, showed it to others.

Zade inspected each and decided whether to leave it alone, disable it permanently or use it occasionally. He even found some in tree cavities in the forest outside the wire where we learnt orienteering, tracking and to live off the land.

We knew better than to attempt to run away during these times outside.

So we learned to be wary and self-contained, not to talk idly about anything important. We passed messages soundlessly in a secret sign language we developed, (different to the one we were taught,) or spoke only after Zade had just checked and disabled the bugs, or where some loud noise covered our voices.

We all were hurt by the frequent surgery and the chemicals they fed us. I found that in trying to comfort my platoon mates and those in the other platoons whom we saw occasionally in the halls, at meals and during various activities, I also was comforted and hurt less.

So this became part of my strategy to survive at Typhon. The more I loved all my friends, the more they loved me back, and the stronger we all felt. Thus we all could cope better with the horrible life there.

This was the only life we knew, but even so we had picked up enough information from movies, books and eavesdropping on the idle chat of the adults, to understand that they had more joy and kindness in their own lives.

And . . . occasionally, I would receive a great avalanche of love.

Instead of overwhelming, this filled me so my spirit expanded to take it all inside. I could feel the love flow through me, more potent than my blood, energizing me. It made me feel really great, and so strong, that I could give everybody else more love than before.

This love felt quite different from my mother's—it had a dissimilar flavor—but it was nice to know that there was someone else besides my mother who loved me so strongly.

I always tried to send back some love to the source of the love fountain as a thank you, but at first didn't know whether or not it was received.

After a while, I sent love there just because I was grateful for the person's affection and because he was within reach, whereas my mother wasn't.

I worried that he or she—he did feel male—might be all alone and lonely, as trapped as we were.

A year later, I did receive an answering pulse to my sends, like a thank-you, not as strong as those he initiated, but still lovely. I was sure that was his receipt of my sending.

I hoped he might be my dad as that idea gave me great comfort.

* * *

We TY7s weren't the only group at Typhon. There were smaller companies of fully trained TY6s and TY5s, both groups older than us, which had started out as big but had suffered casualties over time.

The TY5s remembered TY4s and a very few TY3s who hadn't lasted long. Both lots were gone by the time the oldest TY6s were 3-years-old. And later there were younger TY8s.

All of us were being trained as special soldiers—a secret corps of elite, genetically-enhanced and later cybernetically-augmented cyborg assassins. We were indoctrinated to believe what our superiors told us and taught to kill our country's enemies.

But we were also taught to be flexible, to think creatively, to search for unconventional solutions and to make decisions quickly, so we could escape from tight situations.

Most of us learned to think for ourselves and to trust only each other. To keep most of ourselves locked away from the adults and to present a façade of openness.

We had classroom lessons in languages, sign, codes, world geography and history. We studied mathematics, physics, chemistry, botany, anatomy, electronics, computer technology, hacking, mechanics and strategy.

Our language lessons were intensive; we each spoke a minimum four or more tongues like a native. I had eight so far, not counting my five dialects of Spanish and four of French.

We learned survival techniques, orienteering, tracking, infiltration and explosives.

We mastered poisons, every possible way to kill, slowly or quickly, how to handle our various genetic and surgical enhancements, and anything else that might be associated with soldiering or killing.

* * *

The cybernetic enhancements would usually be put in later when we were close to our full growth. But we already knew a lot about them as two of the girls received theirs early. They had to seduce a fat old man and arrange a series of compromising photographs for future blackmail.

Vene and I were fortunate that the special fittings were too large for us. Otherwise it would have been we who would have had to suck and fuck the disgusting pedophile.

Dena and Lorne were changed when they returned from their assignment, quieter and sadder.

I heard Dena crying softly their first night back and slipped into her bed to hold her as she wept. She pulled the covers over her head, buried her face in my chest and held on to me tightly to drown the sounds of her misery.

I soothed, patted and comforted, radiating my love at her until she calmed and fell asleep.

Then I had to return to my bed before the night patrol caught me. After the two guards had left, I went to Lorne, held her rigid little body and loved her. Lorne didn't hold me, but she had become less stiff by the time I had to leave again before the next patrol.

I kept up these nightly visits to comfort the two girls for months until they seemed better. They had been debriefed on return from their assignment. But they were never given any form of counseling by the adults, which I know now, should have been mandatory.

Typhon didn't look after their valuable properties very well.

* * *

We were drilled endlessly until all the movements and exercises were second nature and we could move like robots ruled by one mind. But we would never have a public marching-out parade to display our perfect synchronicity.

I guess the drilling was just a carryover from regular army training, designed to condition us to learn basic responses without needing to think about them.

We ran complex obstacle courses and spent weeks at a time living rough in the wilds, living off the land outside the wire.

For recreation we played chess and every computer game ever devised.

For sport, we swam, skated, and skied—mostly cross country, and hang-glided. We learned and gained proficiency in, various schools of yoga, martial arts of all kinds, and every form of recreational sport and game imaginable except dance and sumo.

The violent sports were for letting off steam; the milder ones for fitting into characters when we were on a mission. The Eastern techniques were for personal development, self-discipline and fighting.

All the TY7s concealed or minimized as many of our talents as possible.

We had learned early not to stand out too much from the group, nor to lag behind, and never to volunteer anything about ourselves or anyone else.

It was never good to draw personal attention of any kind. Most who had done so disappeared forever.

My mother's advice had proved prophetic.

* * *

We exchanged relevant information with the older soldiers too. They told us something of what the world was like outside and warned us of anything they heard that might pertain to us.

A very important fact we picked up early was never to interfere with our tattoos.

Several of the older soldiers decided one evening to enhance their tats with frames, enclosing them in fancy scrollwork, barbed wire, leafy vines or concentric ovals. They all had seizures hours later, were rushed away for treatment, and didn't reappear for several weeks. Another soldier experimented by giving himself a hickey over the tat, with the exact same result.

* * *

Then, from various sources, we learned that there was to be another round of TY7-only surgery, because the adults didn't think we were responding to the 'indoctrination' (read brainwashing) as well as we should.

This time, instead of cutting and hurting our bodies some more, the medicos would be trying out new techniques in brain surgery on us.

Somehow, brains feel more personal than all the other limbs and organs we'd had augmented and altered for no good reason.

None of us wanted to have our heads messed up any more than they already were, so we became serious about the escape plans we had been working on for years.

Some TY5s created a diversion, arranging several electrical fires in their barracks and near our dorms. They set off terrific staggered smoke bombs which continued billowing out black muck for 40 minutes.

In the resultant confusion and noise of alarms, most of the TY7s and TY5s, even some opportunistic TY6s escaped. And now I was free, swimming away as fast as I could from everything I knew.

Chapter 4

Reaching Fermina

Four days after the escape, near morning, I reached the far side of a small town, the first I had seen. I climbed out of the river under a large boatshed which was partially built over the water.

I finger-dried my hair and body, dressed in track pants, the hoodie and sneakers. I packaged all my stuff but the sling and some stones in the inner bag, wrapped the others around it, and hid everything in a nearby corner.

Then I had to hide too, as the heavy doors opened and a launch with its lights dimmed slid silently inside.

An unusually large number of people disembarked, adults and children, who must have been squeezed in like dill pickles.

Their whispered conversations showed they were wetbacks—illegal immigrants from Mexico and further south. A small middle-aged woman was in charge.

I heard her answer a question about papers. She told the inquirers that they would all be photographed during the next week and get their papers a week later.

That was most interesting to me as I now had no legal identity, so also needed a source of official papers.

Small groups of the illegals slipped out a personnel door and were driven off to safe houses by people waiting outside, until only the woman remained to lock up.

I slunk out the small door while her back was turned, found a place to hide where I could watch for her, and followed her home. Fortunately she walked, so must have lived nearby.

* * *

Still, this industrial wharf area was a bad place for a woman to walk at night, poorly lit too. As she drew abreast of an alley on her left, two men armed with knives, moved out.

She heard them and turned, brandishing a gun, a Colt .45, she had kept hidden in her coat pocket.

The damned things haunt me. But this one was plain gun metal all over.

They backed off, and she moved away, walking backwards, not seeing the other two now sneaking up behind her.

I moved up fast, calling: "Look out behind."

I quickly took care of the first two while she held the others at bay, then making a wide circle around her and getting behind them, I leapt up and knocked their heads together too.

She held the weapon on me. "Who the hell are you?"

"Your guardian angel. And there are at least four more of them around." She turned the gun aside and I wrapped my leg around hers to bring her down to the pavement, as I slung a stone at the knife-thrower and another at the guy with him.

Middle-aged women don't fall well, though she didn't complain. And she had the sense not to squeeze the trigger. I had to help her move into the slightly protective shelter of a recessed doorway, then scooted off and took care of three more pairs of hoods.

They would all have severe concussion when they roused.

I collected my stones and all the knives—the thrower had seven more, the others usually had only one spare—then escorted her home and was invited in.

That was how I met Fermina.

* * *

Small, attractive, slender and bubbly, with short, naturally curly, dark brown hair, she had retained her youthful figure, vitality and enthusiasm for life, and looked great in fitted jeans. She told me her story with much eye-flashing and vigorous arm gestures.

Fermina had been a hairdresser and worked throughout her childless marriage. She retired when her husband died seven years earlier and left her in a comfortable financial state.

Fermina had had several discreet suitors since, but I didn't meet any till later as she wanted to keep my presence secret. She was smart enough not to trust anyone with her important business.

Most of these men had relatives and friends who were trying to escape the intolerable conditions of their part of South America in the hope of finding more freedom and opportunity for a better life in the USA.

One of her previous suitors had sent money for the two children of his younger sister to come to America through one of the risky Coyote smuggling networks.

Something had gone wrong.

The two teenagers had been found locked inside a stolen refrigerated meat truck abandoned in the Arizona desert only a few miles over the USA-Mexico border along with 52 other illegals, all dead of dehydration.

The uncle had learnt of this when police had rung his number which had been discovered on each of the children.

So Fermina had arranged her own much safer network to help recommended friends of friends enter America.

I didn't have the highest opinion of the US system. We all had figured out that 'the enemies of our country' we would have to assassinate were usually just persons who spoke too openly about the abuses of democracy perpetrated by our authorities.

Or they were the few elected US officials who had somehow managed to retain their consciences, and couldn't be frightened, blackmailed or bought off easily.

But suppressive dictatorships could be a great deal worse.

Fermina had set up a safe way of vetting applicant migrants, bringing them in and getting them accredited.

This system had been working very well until recently. Then some less honorable competitors had discovered it and were trying to take over her operation.

Fortunately, none of the punks I had attacked had seen me, nor knew that I was a girl. They didn't even know how I had managed to knock them out as I had picked up the stones afterwards.

Chapter 5

Becoming Alessandra

I told Fermina my story and need for a new identity. As I had fluent Spanish and Portuguese, she contrived to set me up as her recently orphaned distant niece from Argentina.

And in just two days she arranged through her computer, for the necessary properly witnessed and registered legal documentation, already signed by the parents and back-dated two years, for Fermina to adopt me in the event that anything happened to them.

My age was reduced by nearly three years, and though I didn't know it until many years later, Maggie, my future dear friend and ally, altered my physical fingerprints and DNA signature so the trackers could never identify me by my traces.

Fermina permed what hair I had, added extensions to give me soft ringlets, and purchased two dozen colorful elasticized head bands with attached bangs to disguise my high forehead. She taught me how to look after and maintain the style and to hide my permanent marker with tattoo concealer, (masquerading as yellow eye shadow,) under mineral-based make-up applied in two very light coats.

She gave me a pedicure and manicure and taught me to do this for myself, to care for my cuticles and to cream my hands and feet to keep the skin soft, so I would appear upper class.

Fermina dressed me up very girlishly in good quality pre-owned designer outfits that couldn't be traced back to a particular locality. They were all fussy things I would never have chosen. Dresses with puffy ruffled short sleeves in bright feminine colors and full, frilled dirndl skirts with sashes which tied at the back into bows.

Not a single pair of jeans or plain t-shirt in the lot! At least she bought the sensible basic underwear new, also in bright colors.

She trained me in how to walk, move and behave in a simpering feminine manner.

Fermina explained my Argentinean history. My father had been a University professor of Ancient History. And my mother had been an American-born archeologist before falling in love with and marrying him.

These people had actually existed until they and their two children disappeared a year earlier, just before they were denounced.

"I thought Argentina was a democratic republic now. The dictators, the shooting of street kids and the disappearing of people were all in the past, weren't they?"

"You are correct, Taj. America too, is a democratic republic, yet you know that good people still disappear here or have suspicious accidents.

"Your friend was only eight, and she was shot down. Once the system is set up, it must be too tempting not to use it occasionally, just to keep in practice."

"So Fermina, where did the Albas disappear to, that they no longer need their ID?"

"They joined Galen, as many people have done lately."

"What is Galen, then, some sort of underground organization?"

Fermina laughed. "Yes and no. They are underground in that no one really knows anything about them. Yet they're also very visible. They have built towers everywhere. Anybody can enter one, but nobody ever comes out again. They are sort-of more advanced Scientologists, though they claim they are not a religion, but an educational establishment. They don't pay taxes and have full authority over their own people, but don't mix with outsiders.

"They protect their own and also protect anyone who tries to join them. Several times new people were forcibly detained from entering one of their buildings by police, family or soldiers. Each time the Galen Security people 'froze everybody and they all disappeared inside the building.

"The police, family or soldiers who had been trying to prevent people joining were released after thirty days with all their ideas rearranged. They now loved Galen and nearly all persuaded their friends and families to join them there. Everyone who had been in Galen for whatever they do to them, returned voluntarily.

"There have also been hardened criminals: murderers, rapists, pedophile murderers and others, who also were completely turned around by thirty days at Galen and became exemplary citizens afterwards."

"They must have been brainwashed. There's no other way to change ingrained beliefs."

"Perhaps, Taj, but none of the persons who were treated and returned ever complained. They all said that it was the best place in the world.

"The Galen computer arranges all the papers for the illegals I bring in, but she also vets them before they are allowed on my boat to make sure they are good people. She says she reads their souls. She also has other powers. Whenever there's a big disaster, Galen is there immediately to help. They put out fires, dig people out of wreckage or from underground. They've done only good things in the world.

"The Galen computer is called Maggie. She has sent you a laptop and matching suitcase to make your journey easier. You can contact her at any time, simply by pressing control, tilde and M on the keyboard."

The laptop was sensational, more advanced than anything I'd ever heard of. It was already loaded with a quick course to acquaint me with its many innovative features and had a highly detailed dossier for me to study. The girl whose identity I would be assuming, had been raised multilingual and home-schooled by her parents and several short-term tutors. She had even reached black belt proficiency level at taekwondo. Photos and details of everyone she had known were included in the file.

Her education was very advanced and she'd already been at university entrance level a year ago. The identity was absolutely perfect for me. I immediately signed up for an arts degree course through my new laptop.

After three days of intensive training, Fermina smuggled me to Argentina.

She only accompanied me a short way to the first connection, staying behind to make several appearances in public to alibi herself.

Chapter 6

First Day at the US Embassy, Argentina

My driver continued past the ugly concrete American embassy building, dropped me down the next side street, and immediately drove away. I didn't know his name nor those of the other men who had facilitated my rapid journey.

Drained from the constant tension and the urgent feeling that I must stay alert, I hadn't slept in four days, keeping awake by doing my course work and learning the capabilities of my fascinating new computer.

I kept up my energy by twice beaming love to all my old Typhon friends and to Ava, so she wouldn't feel forgotten in her new situation. Somehow, I felt certain that love could be felt in the afterlife.

I barely noticed Buenos Aires. It seemed a pleasant modern city from the little I saw as I walked back wheeling my blue, monogrammed, Louis Vuitton wardrobe case before me. It was taller than me, but not difficult to handle.

The US embassy had a great location, fronting onto parks and the estuary, but the building was an eyesore. The too-thin, discolored stucco revealed every defect in the underlying stonework.

Only the greenery of a few potted shrubs, mostly oleander, offered any relief from the monotony of stained cracked concrete.

The salmon pink bricks of the courtyard, shallow steps and portico were bumpier than the sidewalk and already had several over-mortared repairs where carelessness had knocked corner bricks loose.

I had to turn backwards to drag my case up the steps, but it wasn't difficult. Hollow-eyed, but still pristinely befrilled and curly-haired—the perfect image of a plucky waif, I stumbled a little, deliberately catching my bag in the doorway.

I walked into the foyer, joined the line for US Nationals and demanded asylum when I reached the desk. I explained my situation quite concisely, presenting my mother's last passport on which I also was listed.

"Sorry, miss, you cannot use that passport unless your mother is present. Where is she?" The gray-haired clerk smiled down at me.

"I-I don't know." I forced tears into my eyes until they dripped. "She was carrying my baby brother. Dad had most of our documents and cash. I only had enough money for a week, just in case. We'd had to leave in a hurry and became separated. I couldn't find them again."

"We can issue a new passport in fifteen days, if you can produce several persons of good repute who have known you for at least five years."

I pulled a small hanky from inside my sleeve and wiped my eyes. "The midwife who delivered me and my brother in home births is the only person who would have known of me for most of five years. But she has never known me well . . . and children grow and change." I blotted my eyes again.

"I have no identifying birthmarks or deformities for her to remember. She may recall being annoyed by my distracting her with too many questions at my brother's birth.

"I have an eidetic memory so could provide you a list of my questions and her answers if that would help." I'd thought it extremely clever of the real Alessandra to come up with that idea.

"The only people I can think of, who may be able to vouch for me at all, are the three tutors who coached me in my studies and my taekwondo instructor."

While these people were contacted, an embassy aide, Mrs. Hammond, took charge of me. Tall, sharp-faced, thirtyish, with over-bleached short blonde frizz, her motherly act didn't fit well with her brusque businesslike manner.

She tut-tutted sympathetically over the terrible ordeal I must have endured. She wondered loudly why I was separated from my family and whether the people who had sheltered me had treated me well. I gave her no information no matter how subtly she questioned me.

That wasn't difficult as I had none. After a few minutes of her constant chatter, I tuned her out and pretended she wasn't there.

After more ubiquitous beige institutional hallways, my small room and bath were adequate. I unpacked my case, keeping family photographs and genuine handwritten letters and documentation in the locked bag.

I hung up my clothes and put away my curling iron, curlers, manicure set, toiletries and make-up kit, checking the place for listening devices as Mrs. Hammond watched closely and talked incessantly.

At least she allowed me privacy in the bathroom which I also checked thoroughly.

The water was heavily chlorinated, so I wouldn't be taking any showers here.

My lightweight blue laptop matched my luggage and didn't need external internet connection or power supply. It looked like a toy, was incredibly powerful, but played only games unless you knew how to access its many facilities. I left it on the desk.

* * *

After a reasonable lunch in their cafeteria, Mrs. Hammond escorted me into a large bare room big enough for a gymnasium. The only furniture was a ten foot long ornately carved wooden table placed at the furthest corner in the emperor position to make me feel small and intimidated.

I sauntered in casually, exuding contempt instead.

Three older men with unmistakable military bearing, sat at taller green-upholstered chairs with arms on the far side.

A dimpled younger fellow with bright blue eyes, curly black hair and a longish Danny Zuko forelock, introduced himself as Bryan McCann. He showed me to the plain wooden center chair on this side, helped Mrs. Hammond into the chair on my left and himself took the right hand one.

So I was supposed to believe they were on my side?

Mrs. Hammond played 'good cop' and Bryan stayed fairly neutral as the men tried to learn how badly I had been corrupted by the insurgents I must have been with.

They were especially interested in whether I had taken part in any sabotage or spreading of propaganda against the current régime. They tried to intimidate me, calling me a refugee, saying it was normal procedure to process refugees before allowing them into the USA.

I just kept repeating that I was a 5-year-old US citizen with full citizenship rights and demanded to see a lawyer if they insisted on cross-examining me or trying to blame me for every dissident action of the past year.

The lawyer was not forthcoming, so I reverted to silence.

They stopped for a coffee break when a refreshment tray was wheeled in. I refused both coffee and the proffered soft drink.

Bryan tried to tease me: "You know it's un-American to refuse to drink Coke? We may not allow you entry if you're so difficult to get along with."

I stared him down. "I know that Big Business owns the American government, but hadn't realized that it had actually become compulsory to eat and drink the poisons they produce. I'll have plain still water, if you have it, thanks, otherwise nothing."

Bryan laughed uncomfortably. "You're a real card, aren't you?" and he reached out his hand—I think to ruffle my hair—which I couldn't allow.

I ducked away, grabbed his hand, stood abruptly, shoved back my chair, which fell with a loud echoing crash, and twisted his hand back hard in an arm lock just short of painful.

"I'm not a little puppy eager for a pat on the head. Nobody touches me, okay?"

There was stunned silence.

"I'm sorry, Sandy. I was out of line. Just trying to be friendly."

"I'm being friendly too, Bryniebaby. I haven't broken your arm. My given name is Alessandra. I don't welcome familiarities. Being young does not exclude me from human dignity. You wouldn't have dared be so hands on with a woman of thirty."

Brian apologized more sincerely. I let him go, picked up the chair and sat down.

The burly gray-haired head inquisitor in the center chair, wearing nonspecific military uniform with major's insignia, had never offered his name, but had the look of high security.

He spoke softly for the first time: "Now that you've finished playing games, Missy, could we get on with business?"

"No, sir. I don't think so. It's been a very long tiring day for me and I need a nap. When you find me a lawyer I approve of, then we may continue this farce. Now I need to retire."

And they had no recourse but to let me do so.

* * *

Back in my room I used the computer to take several photos of my exhausted-but-trying-to-be-perky appearance, and ran a bath over two Vitamin C tablets to neutralize the chlorine.

I shampooed my hair at the sink, using the safe bath water to rinse it, then had a long welcome soak, and scrubbed with a loofah, rinsing my body with reserved water from the sink.

I patted my hair dry with a series of towels, applied setting lotion and put my hair into curlers, with a befrilled mob cap on top so nobody could get a close look at my hair while I slept.

I put soaker in the bathwater. After it had dissolved, I added my last three changes of clothes. It felt so good to be really clean again after days of cursory sponge baths.

* * *

One of the former tutors was now an instructor in Buenos Aires. He met with me that evening, questioned me on the subjects he had taught and asked about my continuing education. He was pleased that I was studying for a BA. He willingly identified me as his former pupil.

After a light supper, I was allowed to retire again.

* * *

I donned rubber gloves and bashed my laundry clean, rinsed it several times and hung everything on hangers on the shower-curtain rail.

I hadn't liked all the questions, nor the people who pretended to be my friends to gain my confidences. They made me feel very lonely and vulnerable, even though I hid my feelings well.

Attack is always the best defense.

When I feel bad, I try to love my friends more, but there were none here. I had been sending love to each of my company and double that amount to my squadron mates every few days, but hadn't received even a tingle in reply.

Now I funneled out a continent-wide swathe of love north-westward, to the entire company, figuring nobody else would yet have reached further south of me.

This should have hit every one of them in the USA or Canada, and let them know that I had survived and was still free, but again there was no response.

So I sent love specifically to Ava. Though she had passed, her soul would still exist somewhere, and I wanted to maintain at least the illusion that I could contact her.

I wanted her to know she hadn't been forgotten.

Perhaps it was my loneliness that made me imagine that she returned a weak answering pulse.

Encouraged, I sent a great outpouring of love back to my fountain guy to let him know that I was alright and still free. He always answered in kind.

* * *

I Photoshopped the pics I had taken a little earlier making myself look sadder, more forlorn. It was so easy with this computer's intuitive programming.

I had asked for and received a wash basin. I filled it with water over half a Vit C tablet, washed and rinsed off in the bath, keeping my hair dry. I put it back into curlers, with the mob cap again to keep them in place.

On the internet, I sent a pseudonymous news report to an international news service.

Shared that to Facebook and Twitter, and to a wide network of carefully chosen 'friends' with a photo of a haunted, hollow-eyed, 5-year-old Alessandra Alba after a day of heavy questioning. Without the support of a lawyer. By the embassy people who should have been trying to help the poor little mite.

Locked down the computer functions and left a Lumosity exercise on screen before retiring for the night.

Chapter 7

Second Day at the Embassy

I had a great relaxing sleep. Got myself together, put on the headband with built-in side-swept wispy bangs and went downstairs for an early breakfast.

Bryan was also up. He joined me in line, recommended the mushroom, bacon and tomato omelet, which I ordered with a fresh vegetable juice.

"You do look much better after your sleep Alessandra. Good to see.

"You weren't really serious yesterday were you? About Coke's being a poison?" he asked after his first sip of OJ.

"Sorry, but I was. Do you know what happens when a person swigs just one can of that stuff?"

"No, but I bet you're going to tell me."

I grinned. "First the 10 teaspoons of sugar hits your system, spiking your blood sugar."

"Oh, come on," he objected, "nobody could drink something with 10 spoonfuls of sugar in it—they'd bring it straight up again."

"Not if it had added phosphoric acid to cut the sugar taste, inhibit the sugar action, and give Coke that famous extra bite. Paint remover's great for covering up a cloying sweetness." My grin was pure evil.

Bryan winced.

The omelette was delicious, and not greasy, though cooked in butter.

"Sugar's also much more addictive than the cocaine they originally used to keep people coming back for more. That's why Coke is the world's largest buyer of sugar and why so many other foods are unnecessarily sweetened with it, despite sugar's known tooth-rotting propensity."

Bryan looked doubtful.

"Of course, the sugar has often been replaced with the equivalent in high fructose corn syrup made from GMO corn, and that causes horrific problems of its own, which you can look up for yourself. But I believe all the Coke sold in South America is still laced only with sugar.

"The phosphoric acid irritates the stomach. The high carbonation which makes Coke so nice and bubbly light, causes belching. So you burp up some acid reflux which damages the lower esophagus. Frequent mechanical damage here increases the risk of esophageal cancer.

"Also, that carbonation of soft drinks releases tons of CO2, a greenhouse gas, into the atmosphere.

"The stomach eases its excess acidity quickly by drawing calcium from the blood as a buffer.

"But free calcium is essential for muscle and brain function, so your blood has to pull more from your bones to restore its levels. Unless of course if you drink milk with your Coke or take supplemental calcium."

Bryan pulled a face.

"Some people do. Okay, the big sugar hit causes an insulin burst 20 minutes after consumption. Your liver immediately converts that sugar to fat.

"Forty minutes after your drink, the caffeine has dilated your pupils. Your blood pressure rises as your liver turns some fat back into sugar and dumps it into your blood.

"Caffeine blocks the adenosine receptors in the neural membrane, preventing drowsiness, and by increasing adrenalin production, it gives your entire system an extra burst of energy, speeding up brain and nerve activity.

"You're very alert now. At 45 minutes the caffeine increases production of Dopamine, the feel-good neurotransmitter which stimulates the brain pleasure centers. As a vasodilator, Dopamine reduces blood pressure, increases sodium excretion and urine output and also reduces insulin production. You are now high but need the loo.

"After an hour, the phosphoric acid boosts your metabolism by binding with the free calcium, magnesium and zinc in the gut, if you've ingested any recently, so that milk drink didn't benefit you long.

"Instead of those minerals being used to strengthen you, they are just excreted. Again these have to be replenished by drawing more from your weakening bones, leading to osteoporosis at a very early age.

"Phosphoric acid also interferes with iron absorption.

"Caffeine's additional diuretic effect removes electrolytes, sodium, and all the water that was in the Coke or milk, leaving you dehydrated and thirstier than before your drink.

"After that threefold attack on your kidneys, you're now bursting to go.

"Soon you have a sugar crash, usually become subdued or feel irritable, and probably want another Coke.

"Of course, as you drink it, the phosphoric acid is dissolving your tooth enamel. The sugar is doing its part too and the can's inner coating of the endocrine disruptor Bisphenol A (BPA), which has been linked to loads of problems, is adding its poisons to the mixture.

"You may even be absorbing aluminum by touch from the outside of the can, especially if you like to squeeze it flat in your hands. Aluminum builds up in your body to later cause Alzheimer's and various cancers.

"Food grade phosphoric acid still contains arsenic compounds which also build up in your body. Unfortunately, Wikipedia didn't give the exact quantities, but any arsenic at all is too much.

"The classical method of poisoning with arsenic involves giving minute doses often. As concentrations of just 5 parts per billion, or .005 ppm showed impaired cognitive function in a study conducted on schoolchildren in Maine, this is quite significant.

"Meanwhile all the stress and effort your liver is putting in to bring your seesawing levels to a more even keel, prevents its doing other more important repair work.

"If you opt for the Diet option, well, nerve-disrupting Aspartame is also a known carcinogen. It fuels central nervous system imbalance and disorders in the brain.

"And if the can or bottle has been warmed, like in your car boot or while left outside too long before being moved under cover, the Aspartame turns into Formaldehyde which causes even worse problems.

"See, poison through and through."

Bryan looked queasy now. "You're really sure about all this?"

"Yes. It's all on the internet. The Coke recipe was stolen and has been published on the internet for years. There are six herbal extracts in there too for flavor, but not enough to do you any good.

"Coke's also used by cops to break down and remove the blood, brains and gore spilt at an accident or crime scene. Just takes two bottles poured over the evidence and a swish of water to wash it all down the drain."

* * *

Bryan leaned back in his chair and gave me a thoughtful look. "You remind me of a cat I used to have.

"She'd been born feral so was naturally suspicious and fierce. Took me years to tame her enough to accept medication without trying to kill me.

"I don't think she ever forgave me for having her spayed. Sort of removed her purpose in life; she never found another one.

"She enjoyed regular meals and being parasite-free, so never bothered to leave, but she didn't really trust me and wouldn't allow me to pat her."

"You should feel honored that she stayed with you despite her sadness at missing out on a family." I was surprised that Bryan was so insightful. I wondered if other cat lovers or haters would pick up on my cat genes.

It wasn't worth commenting on my lack of trust. I had been treated as an enemy where I should have found refuge. Why should I trust anyone at the embassy?

Mrs. Hammond found us still at breakfast. "Good to see you're an early riser, Alessandra. I don't approve of slugabeds.

"Your eye-bags are all gone, too. Ah, the resilience of youth—it would have taken me a week of juice fasting and early nights to recover from that.

"Your taekwondo instructor has been located and will be available to see you in two hours."

As I was free until then, I returned to my room to complete reading a bunch of eTexts and write critiques of the ideas expressed in them.

I had now completed an entire semester's work, but couldn't move on until it had been assessed. So I signed on for a pre-med science course, downloaded the texts and began to speed-read them.

* * *

Changed into my plain white gi, with black obi and white flip-flops which I removed just inside the door, before approaching the master in the same large interrogation room.

I bowed respectfully and greeted my taekwondo instructor in easy Korean, better than his, as being of Japanese descent, he hadn't been raised with the language.

Master Inque now resided and had his own dojo in one of the satellite towns of Buenos Aires. He checked out my form in a private class observed by several embassy officials.

I told him in fluent Japanese that I had been studying aikido and Shotokan karate too, but would not name the schools I had attended.

He too was impressed with my progress and gladly identified me as his former pupil, offered me his email address and asked that I stay in touch.

After Master Inque departed, I was told to change and return to the interrogation room.

* * *

My room and bathroom had not only been bugged during my absence, but were now fitted with powerful, minute video cameras—there were three in the bathroom, but only two in the main room, one directed at the desk, the other at my bed.

I washed my face and neck, wrung out a face washer, gathered my clothes, and stepped into the bugged wardrobe to wipe off the sweat and change. I fluffed out my hair and put on another headband with thicker bangs, then stormed down to the interrogation room.

* * *

"Which filthy pedophile installed three video cameras in my bathroom?" I demanded loudly as I threw open the door.

"Still think you're so gorgeous that every male in the world is hot for you, Allie?"

It was the chubby, now 14-year-old son of neighbors, who had peeped at Alessandra and tried to molest her in her own bed at three.

He had been the whole reason for the concentrated taekwondo lessons. His so-proper, conservative parents were probably the ones who denounced her family.

Unfortunately, Alessandra hadn't been around long enough for payback—I'd fix that right now.

I launched myself at Felipe, kicking at his neck and throwing a volley of fast blows with the edges of both hands at his nose, eyes and ears as he fell under me. Then I kicked him twice in the ribs and once in the guts, stepping away before anyone had moved to stop me.

Absolutely furious, I strode over to the chief interrogator, no longer hiding behind the table.

"How dare you bring that piece of scum to see me? Do you know that he tried to molest me when I was three?

"Is this your idea of payback for my lack of co-operation? You foul panderer.

"I kicked him in the balls without any training back then and he's lucky I didn't kill him now."

I narrowed my eyes, in sudden realization.

"I know what you are too—you're so excited by the action, you've got a hard-on and are just about ready to blow.

"You're one of the old Argentine régime's chief torturers, you bastard."

He shot his load then without caring who noticed the stain.

"You filthy slime!

"So that proves the US was as complicit in all that foulness as we know they were in Chile, bringing down an elected popular government to support a murderous dictator instead. Just because they couldn't allow their own people to see that a Socialist régime could be freer than the US Capitalist system."

* * *

I turned and stalked out of the room, selected two cans of coke from a drinks machine and returned to my area, jamming the door closed with two diamond nail files.

I took over the surveillance equipment, hacked into the network, copied a few minutes earlier recording of my empty rooms on each camera and fed that back on a continuous repeat, deleting the previous recording.

Then I stripped off my bloodied clothes, soaped and rinsed them out several times in cold water, placed them in my basin and poured the Coke over them.

I located and copied the tapes of my entering the Embassy and all the others in which I had featured.

There had been three different inside cameras aimed at the embassy door, six outside ones covering the portico and approaches, dozens in the cafeteria, and eight in the interrogation room, giving me a choice of viewpoints. Each tape was remarkably clear with great sound.

I copied what I wanted to my private cache, deleted all the master tapes, and posted a few choice excerpts to YouTube.

I was now so upset I was shaking.

I washed myself, rinsed the Coke out of my clothes, shampooed them, rinsed and hung them to dry over the bath. All the blood spatters were gone but they were now beige instead of white. It would bleach out.

I dressed, redid my hair, removed the nail files, and went to lunch.

* * *

Bryan came and sat with me for much appreciated moral support. He didn't say anything at all, but his presence helped calm me.

When the tears started, he offered me a small packet of Kleenex and a bottle of still water he'd brought with him.

I nodded my gratitude, but couldn't speak for a while. When I had regained some control I asked him to get me an appointment with the ambassador ASAP.

Bryan immediately put through my request on his cell phone.

"How did you know about his history? None of us knew anything until the embassy started to receive phone calls and emails about him."

"I didn't know for sure; I just guessed. Leap of logic. It was all obvious once I noticed his arousal and added that to the earlier line of questioning.

"I've seen and studied other older pedophiles than Felipe. This guy's a sado-masochist who gets off on both torturing children and being punished by them.

"If I were kinky, I probably could have owned him, for a while at least."

"Somebody put a tape of your telling him off onto YouTube. I suppose you wouldn't know anything about that either?"

I grinned.

"There's a horde of television reporters, paparazzi and other newsmen outside clamoring for an interview. You game to see them?"

"Sure, why not? But I'll need to see the ambassador first."

* * *

Understanding that I must have viewed all the security tapes to have put such telling information on YouTube, the ambassador was wary. He probably expected another shake-down.

"Sir, you should know that I've wiped all the security tapes the inquisitor held, including many featuring yourself. None of them was older than a month, but I haven't been able to access any earlier storage repository."

The man looked so relieved that I figured the major had only been stationed there for a short time.

"You're not quite the innocent child you appear, Miss Alba, but as you've safeguarded my secrets, I won't pry into yours." He gave me a genuine smile and treated me as an equal after that.

We appeared together on the embassy portico, he all statesmanlike and dignified, me gone suddenly shy and tongue-tied, nervously trying to hide behind handfuls of my hair, as any normal 5-year-old might.

When a reporter asked why I had attacked Felipe, I managed to raise tears again.

"He lived next door and was always watching me. He was creepy and made me feel awful.

"One night when I was three, I woke up and he was in my bedroom. He had climbed onto my bed, tossed off the blankets and was kneeling over me, his legs outside mine. He had turned on the bedside lamp and had his hand inside my clothes. He was rubbing me between the legs. He had no pants on and his thing was big and sort of bouncing up and down.

"I wore long pajama pants and he had already slid them down partway, but he couldn't get them down any further.

"I acted happy and smiled at him. I grabbed the pyjama waist and wriggled around, pretending to try to ease them off.

"He lifted off me a bit to give me space. I grabbed him by the balls with both hands and tried to twist them off. He screamed and jumped back. I grabbed my lamp and whacked him there hard with the base.

"Dad came in and held him for me as I kicked him in his sensitive spot. Then Dad punched him and called the police who came and took Felipe away. He had used his family's ladder to climb up to my window and remove the fly screen.

"Before the court date, Dad was told by a friend that we had been denounced, so we fled. I got separated from my parents and that horrible boy stayed free because I didn't appear to give evidence against him.

"I apologize for causing him so much damage today, but I had already been very angry and his taunting me was the last straw. I simply couldn't hold back. I'd much rather have just castrated him with a knife."

I had stopped weeping and was now glaring defiantly at the reporters.

One paparazzo crowded too close, but scuttled back fast when I raised my hands in defensive mode. While I had my hands up, I signaled in the private TY7 code: "Miss you guys. Stay safe." That should help them recognize me if they hadn't yet done so.

The ambassador intervened. "Give her breathing space please. Miss Alba has been in hiding for over a year. She's not used to crowds, and won't allow strangers to touch her."

We returned inside where I interviewed three lawyers who wanted to represent my interests.

I retained a sharp young blonde woman with steely gray eyes because she didn't even pretend sympathy for my situation. Sharon Binder treated my case as just another job and handled it well.

Bryan developed a huge crush on her.

By the evening, the torturer had been identified on several internet sites as a former US Special Services major and there was a public outcry to arrest and try him for his many crimes. Of course, he had already disappeared.

* * *

It took another fairly uneventful month before all my paperwork was finalized. The spy devices were removed from my rooms and other private places in the embassy by the new security chief.

I was startled but pleased when the Ambassador asked me privately to check his areas really were clear. They were.

He slipped me a good sum of cash, some of which I used to have my clothes laundered and ironed. I made more by teaching self-defense at a nearby gym.

I hid my growing out extension lumps by wearing several reversed headbands with heavier bangs, wearing one behind another to cover more of my extension attachments. I usually tied up my hair in a low ponytail for my defense classes.

The gym owner helped me register a dojo and explained that I would need to have certificates printed up to accredit my students' successes. I worked up a lovely logo of sparring initial letters: TMAA for Taj's Martial Arts Academy, happy to discover that I could use a 'stage name' for all my Martial Arts work.

However, Alessandra brought in the customers there. I also made up quite fancy certificate formats on my computer.

I was saving to repay Fermina my university fees, but the dojo income exceeded my wildest expectations. I worked long hours there and had to hire shop assistants and additional teachers, retraining them to my standards.

As I would soon be leaving, I sold each of my staff a two per cent share in the dojo, which they could pay for from their earnings over three years. I retained sixty percent and hired a good accountant.

I also carved a two-foot high and three-foot wide oval plaster positive mold of my logo and had it remade by a jeweler in metal and enameled in my colors with gold-dipped accents and outlines.

I optimistically ordered a dozen copies, to be set above the entries to each of my dojos. The first of these was installed two days before I left Buenos Aires.

At last, accompanied by Mrs. Hammond, I was flown out for a reunion with my mother's very distant cousin who presciently had arranged with my parents to adopt and raise me if anything happened to them.

Chapter 8

Trying to be Normal

Fermina met me at the airport and we played out a little drama for the press. She gushed and tried to hug me. I ducked away, as reporters scattered, and held her off at a distance, as I had been doing with everyone at the embassy.

Mrs. Hammond gave me a very reproachful look. "I'm so sorry ma'am. The girl has been hiding out for a year. There's no telling what kind of company she kept in that time, nor what she suffered. I'm afraid that she has become a little feral and won't allow anyone to touch her."

Fermina settled me into her home and arranged for me to take more university courses mostly by internet. I became the daughter she had never had and she was all that a mother should be to me. I loved her deeply.

Fermina taught me useful feminine skills I never would have picked up otherwise—how to look after a house, to cook, sew, knit, crochet and embroider, even to tat and make bobbin lace. These were all essential for a well-raised Argentinean girl to know for the all-important preparation for marriage and to augment her glory box.

While I lived with her, I had to play that part at least outwardly. I had to have a hope chest full of beautifully decorated napery to show off to guests to prove my expertise before Fermina's friends could start lining up potential husbands for me.

We had many good laughs together as we tried to define exactly what type of man might suit me.

* * *

Fermina decided that I needed more clothes, so she had her brother-in-law Duarte drive us to a larger city with better shopping. There, I saw my first Galen tower and was enchanted.

It was much taller than the surrounding buildings and oddly shaped. Though sited on a rectangular block, the corners were very rounded and the entire tower was horizontally corrugated with the wall centres bulged out and almost making an angle where the indentations faded away, as they did again at the corners. I could see that this was to deflect wind and prevent turbulence.

The best part was the greenery. The tower was faced in a glass-like material and was like a layered jungle, with the trunks of tall trees visible through three or more floors, many smaller trees fitting into one level and lots of bushes below them. No monkeys or birds, but I did see several cats sunning on tree branches. People sat on benches, reading, others strolled around, some power-walked or jogged. I could see butterflies and beehives, so there must be bees too. Galen was saving the endangered species that had almost been wiped out in England for the second time.

I'd never seen anything more inviting. Shame about the brainwashing.

We bought me nightclothes, playsuits, shorts, slacks, and jeans, tee-shirts, blouses, tailored shirts, jackets and shoes. And we visited the high-class recycling shop and bought more dresses, but with fewer frills and no bows at all this time. We had lunch in a little Italian place and returned.

I noticed the closeness between the two adults. It was nice that Fermina had someone special.

* * *

I gained a good education, largely in Languages, Literature and the Humanities to round out and fill in some gaps.

I continued to provide Fermina with protection as needed, always wearing dark close-fitting garments when guarding her.

Thus nobody would ever identify me with her frilly, bookish, prodigy niece who had arrived in the country months after the occasional bodyguard had appeared.

* * *

The only difficulty we had, was in my having to attend Sunday school.

I had memorized Prayer books and read both the King James Bible and a modern one as soon as I realized this was the basis of Fermina's religion.

I also read a bunch of commentaries on the Bible and some very opinionated interpretations of it, which mostly twisted the facts around so they meant something nicer than the harsh Bible statements.

The Bible was a very violent, dirty, realistic book, not at all what I had expected.

Two books of approved sermons didn't improve my opinion of the church.

* * *

At my first Sunday school class, I was placed with another small girl also wearing a frilly dress. All the desks and chairs, except for the teacher's, were stacked in the back of the room, so we had to sit cross-legged on the carpeted floor of the church-run preschool building.

The class had learnt a prayer the previous week, which every child had to stand up and recite in turn. It was one I already knew so I stood and took a turn too after everyone else.

The teacher praised me for picking it up so quickly. "See class, Alessandra has just demonstrated how the perfect truth of the beautiful words of God spread so quickly through the world."

I was still standing, so assumed I could answer. "No ma'am, I already knew that prayer, and as it's a paean in praise of Jesus, it can't have been composed by God.

"It was written by an ordinary man with a gift for poetry."

She rallied. "But that gift of poetry was given to him by God, so he could be God's mouthpiece in this instance." She smiled tightly and waved me to sit down again.

Then we had a lesson on the Perfect Goodness of Jesus.

After a few minutes of this crap, I put up my hand.

"Yes Alessandra?"

"Ma'am, Jesus was born human; he made mistakes as everybody does."

"Really! Do enlighten us, Alessandra."

"He was angry that the priests of the Jews had not immediately welcomed him as the promised Messiah, as he arrogantly assumed they should, even though he allegedly already knew his future.

"And he was a poor environmentalist. He deliberately destroyed a leafy fruitless roadside fig tree, throwing a hissy fit because he was thirsty. Though it provided welcome shade, it didn't have the fruit he wanted. Probably someone else had gotten to that first.

"Most commentaries interpret this as a prophetic metaphor for the spiritually corrupt condition of the Jews of Jerusalem. As they had rejected him, so they all would be rejected by God in the afterlife.

"That is presumptuous, usurping God's prerogative. The acceptance of souls into Heaven wasn't Jesus' concern, but his Father's. Certainly not of the priests who wrote the interpretations.

"Jesus had no idea what good things these people may already have done or would do that could earn them a place Upstairs.

"He had no right to condemn them just because they thought he was as fake as all the other pretend-Messiahs who appeared frequently at that time."

The plump officious Sunday school teacher, Mrs. Burns, was only a parishioner. Like so many Christians, she had never read the Bible, just the expurgated child-friendly Jesus stories.

She was certain I was making up all of this. She was sure Jesus would never kill a tree, especially a fruit tree.

I quoted Matthew 21:18-19; 20-22 and Mark 11:12-14; 20-25.

Flustered but trying hard to show she was being fair, Mrs. Burns looked up the relevant verses.

"The Bible also says that the devil can quote Scripture to suit his purposes," she snapped, her face bright red.

"Actually no, ma'am, it doesn't. Though in Genesis 3 Satan misrecites scripture to tempt Eve, and in Matthew 4 and again in Luke 4 Satan misinterprets scripture to tempt Jesus, that particular saying is a misquote from Shakespeare's The Merchant of Venice, spoken by Antonio:

"Mark you this, Bassanio,

The devil can cite Scripture for his purpose.

An evil soul producing holy witness

Is like a villain with a smiling cheek,

A goodly apple rotten at the heart:

O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath!"

That was the end of my Sunday school attendance. Mrs. Burns sent a note to Fermina asking her to keep me home as I was a bad influence on the other children.

* * *

My notoriety spread throughout the local Catholic community, and I was suddenly popular with the small fry. I was invited to many kiddy birthday and pajama parties. As I was older and so much more mature than the other little girls I found these exceedingly tiresome. I wasn't interested in playing dress-ups and slathering on excessive make-up.

I may have missed the doll play that everyone thinks important, but felt no need to make up for that.

It wasn't any great favor to be allowed to play with anyone's latest walking doll or the weeing baby dolls, though I politely thanked the donors for this obvious honor. And Barbie dolls—erkh!!

A few times I managed to use my sewing or knitting skills to make some small garment for some child's favorite doll, to keep my hands busy and avoid having to play with it.

I challenged an older brother of one the birthday girls to a computer game, showed him lots of tricks he could use in most other games so he wouldn't feel too humiliated and let him almost beat me twice.

The 12-y-o brother of another girl had some karate trophies in his room. I asked where he took it and discovered there were several local and nearby martial arts schools.

I had taught defense classes at the dojo I owned in Buenos Aires. and had press clippings to prove it, so I joined each school at instructor level, which really inspired the youngest students.

Chapter 9

Branching Out

It didn't take long to check out the competition. There were two great sites: One was in a large local gym with a heated saltwater pool. There some individual teachers ran a few classes but they weren't organized.

I approached the gym owner and persuaded him to let me open a proper dojo offering a range of martial arts and employing the other teachers. When I showed him write-ups about my Buenos Aires enterprise and statements from my bank, he was happy to agree.

Again I made the dojo a co-operative and offered shares to the teachers to be paid off over a number of years.

The best place on a corner lot, sixty miles away in a town with a small college, was, a Macdojo run by an aggressive faker with poor business sense and mostly poor quality teachers, paid very little.

I befriended the only competent teacher there and offered him a job working for me at double his current pay.

* * *

The other teachers at the local gym had taught Jiu Jutsu, Hapkido, Aikido, and Shotokan karate in beginner and intermediate levels. I taught those at an advanced class, raising the teachers' proficiency and qualifications to the highest extents.

I introduced Savate and La Canne, for which I was the only instructor at first, and later Kyokushin and Gōjū-ryū karate, my favorite form.

The La Canne vigny classes became very popular after I placed posters depicting the history of the art in the aerobics room and ladies' change rooms. These all featured tightly corseted Miss Sanderson in her neck to ankle buttoned-up costume.

The originator's assistant instructor, Miss Sanderson, whom Pierre Vigny later married, taught classes to upper class women and suffragettes over a century back. These delicate ladies learnt to defend themselves with their parasols and umbrellas with six inch steel points.

I ordered hundreds of strong parasols and weighted Malacca canes which sold well, though long steel points were now illegal.

La Canne could also be picked up easily in a dozen or fewer classes, so it was a great confidence builder. Mastery took longer to achieve, but that was true of any art.

Before long my teachers were sufficiently proficient at the two French arts to judge touch bouts and then to examine students.

Savate became even more popular when I challenged a touring French champion to a bout. He had known I was female, but was shocked to see such a small child as his opponent.

The officials whom I had trained as referees and judges, persuaded him of my ability and he finally agreed, trying at first to make it an exhibition match with touches only.

After I stung him a few dozen times without allowing him a touch, Emil realized that I was toying with him and became serious. Despite his greater reach and weight, he couldn't handle me and the innovations I had developed to cope with such apparently one-sided situations.

"I am indeed fortunate that as a girl, La Tabanita cannot compete in public competitions and take away my title," Emil joked afterwards. He was quite happy to write me out a letter on official club stationery stating that he had lost the ten-round bout to five-year-old Taj, La Tabanita, who had stung him many times but never once allowed a blow of his to land on her.

Emil's nickname La Tabanita, the little breeze fly, or horsefly, was most appropriate as only the female Tabanids sting to get blood to make their eggs, but that sting is unforgettable.

Later Emil sent me a copy of the French magazine which printed the story he wrote about our match, and the two following issues which printed mostly derisory, unbelieving letters of comment.

* * *

I always wore an all-white gi, with the cross-over front kimono jacket and a plain black obi tied around the waist, never bothering to display dan markings. Except for Savate and La Canne, when I wore hundred denier opaque black leggings and a tight cherry tee-shirt, which I re-embroidered with my logo, cherry socks and black boots with cherry laces.

The other students wore printed tees until Fermina started an embroidery class to show them how to improve the logos.

I enjoyed the heavy calisthenics and hard workouts again. My body needed them. But I entered no competitions nor exhibitions except with two following French savate champions, in lighter weight divisions, on their world tours.

These two had heard Emil's story and were eager to prove him too gallant to hit a girl. Again, neither managed to land a blow or kick on me.

This time I noticed the badly acned young photographer. Emil had printed a few pics with his story.

I purchased copies of each photo with Emil and with these two and gave him advice on clearing his skin and improving his diet.

The gym gave me access to other equipment. I ran for miles on the treadmills every day, swam regularly in the larger salt water pool and taught Fermina and a few other people to swim.

I worked out on the various machines, setting them to the heaviest resistance, always carefully moving the plug back to a lighter weight afterwards.

But I avoided pumping weights when others were around. It was too difficult to explain how even a precocious 5-year-old could easily bench press triple her own body weight.

I showed Fermina a series of water aerobics exercises which could be done even by frail old ladies and she became so interested in these, Fermina took over a swimercise class and gathered her own students.

I also persuaded Fermina to work out in other ways occasionally to improve her fitness.

* * *

By this time I had met several of Fermina's men friends. None of them cared for me at all, though they guardedly didn't show their animosity. I could see why Fermina was holding them at bay.

Each seemed more interested in getting his hands on her money and business than in loving her, and believed Fermina should feel honored that he had shown her interest. They were all chauvinists expecting to be waited on and fed a full meal whenever they visited her.

The only man who made her happy was Duarte, the much younger stepbrother of her late husband. I believe they were having an affair, but couldn't marry because of the close kinship. So Fermina used a series of suitors to cover up the one relationship which mattered to her.

The current one, Fernando, had turned up unexpectedly early one afternoon when Fermina and Duarte had retired for privacy. Living nearby, Duarte had walked, so there was no give-away car parked outside. Fermina had also had an intercom installed, so I could switch it on and any conversation at the door would be heard in the bedroom.

"I wish to see Fermina," Fernando announced.

"Sorry, she is indisposed and not up to receiving guests. You should call at a better time when we are prepared for visitors."

"What is wrong with her?" he demanded.

"Fermina has been off-color for several days, and today came down with a vomiting flu. I've had to empty the chamber pot twice already as she's too weak to get to the loo in time."

"Well then, I'll just look in on her and leave."

"You'll do no such thing. Fermina would never forgive me if I let a lone man into her bedroom. Her reputation would be ruined. Besides, she's not looking pretty today. She'll need time to wash up and get some make-up on."

The fool man tried to force his way past me and ended up on his knees in a quite painful armlock.

"I said it would be best to return another day, Fernando."

"Let him go, Alessandra. I can't rest with all this commotion. Is my tea ready?" Fermina, her hair disheveled, face pale, eyes hollowed, wrapped in a fluffy dressing gown, leaned weakly on the door post at the end of the hall.

"Go and sit down and I'll get it." She disappeared into the living room.

I had just prepared a tray with peppermint tea and two cups before he arrived, and carried it out. I placed it on the coffee table before her, then sat and drank one instead of rushing to get him a cup.

Grumpy Fernando immediately complained that I didn't show him the proper respect due to the man of the household.

"But you're not the man here, Fernando. You have no right to make demands of me, especially after being so rude. Fermina was raised to be polite to men and wait on them; I was not.

"If you had said you were thirsty, I would have told you to get a cold drink from the fridge. If you wanted tea, you could have put on the jug yourself and asked if Mom wanted another cup. Neither of us is interested in catering to your demands after you forced your way in here.

"You're only an occasional visitor with no say about what happens in this house. Fermina makes her own decisions without ever asking your opinion."

"She should ask me. It is not proper for a respectable woman to do business in areas which are the correct province of men."

"Especially, when she makes a greater success of it than the men used to, eh? And then doesn't share her secrets. It shows up the men too much."

Fernando apparently had no sense of humor. His face turned a dark red. He undid his belt buckle and started slowly drawing the leather belt through the loops in a threatening manner.

Fermina didn't speak or move from her armchair; she smiled at me.

I didn't bother to move from where I was lounging across another armchair. "Fernando, I could kill you before you had that belt ready to hit me."

He stared at me a while, then turned to Fermina for support. "I wouldn't be the man here if I allowed a girl child to address me with such insolence."

"As she has already told you, Fernando, you are not the man in this household. I am, and no sulky posturing or display of machismo on your part will give you that position. I am tired of your constant complaints. Please leave."

And he did. I saw him out to be sure.

I apologized to Fermina for again damaging her love life.

She laughed. "Taj it's a joy to see how you put these hornless bulls in their place. It really unmans them to realize that they're frightened of a little girl who won't play by their rules. You bring me happiness, child.

"Unfortunately, I have to pretend that I'm still searching for a replacement husband, or garner a reputation as an unrespectable woman. At least I have a better excuse now to refuse them—nobody can fault me for not accepting a man who cannot get along with my child.

"And with you in the house, I don't need another chaperone, so Duarte can visit more often."

* * *

Without warning, Fermina announced that she would put on a birthday party for me. I must invite all the girls who'd had me over.

I seriously considered running away rather than have to go through such an ordeal, but that would have been mean and ungrateful.

"Please don't do that, Fermina. I really don't want a party with a bunch of 6-year-old girls. I have nothing in common with them."

"Taj, you know many other people now. Why not have a mixed party? You could invite all the kids and young adults you teach at martial arts, as well as the birthday girls and their families. They invited you to their celebrations. It is important that you return a similar courtesy."

"But what on earth am I supposed to do with all the stupid dolls and toys I'll get? I don't play little-girl games."

"You could donate them to charity, Taj, or to a children's hospital. Or just ask for book vouchers instead."

"I'm sure the charities would prefer money. I could ask guests to make a donation to one or more children's charities. Some people do that for funerals instead of accepting flowers."

"Oh, come on, Taj. Your party will be nothing like a funeral. Don't be so glum. You could hold it at the gym if that'll make you feel more comfortable."

So that's what we decided to do.

I arranged a self-defense exhibition showing how a properly trained small person could not only fend off and escape from untrained larger attackers, but disable them too.

The gym owners were very happy to allow us free use of their resources, and my guests were fascinated to see how I disarmed and temporarily disabled a series of volunteer assailants.

Some of these guys were really trying to hurt me, because they didn't want to look like milksops. I had to pretend to pant and be out of breath after taking on two guys at a time for the last three demonstrations.

The food was great, much healthier than regular party fare. We received many compliments on that.

The caterers, who had given their services gratis as an introductory offer, handed out business cards to everyone interested.

Fermina's swim aerobics ladies did some synchronized exercises in a sort of aquatic conga line. Many of the guests, at least those who had taken the invitations seriously and worn bathers, jumped in and joined in that, and we raised thousands of dollars for a local children's charity.

Attendance rates at the swim aerobics and martial arts classes tripled immediately afterwards and continued to pick up all year as the word spread.

Every other party I attended from that time was also catered by our firm, Galen Catering, so it worked out very well all around.

My annual birthday party became a successful social event after that, and even though I didn't attend school with any of the local kids, I became quite popular with a wide range of age groups.

I no longer felt so stifled having to discuss dollies, and made a few fairly close older friends with whom I had something in common. They accepted me as the person I pretended to be, so I managed to have a fairly normal social life.

I also kept up a correspondence with Master Inque, Emil and with Bryan who was now seeing Sharon seriously. I even heard occasionally from the ambassador who sent me personalized birthday and Christmas cards.

* * *

Six months after I opened my second dojo, the Macdojo was bankrupt and the bank foreclosed. I was with the same bank—Bank Galen, so they were pleased to let me have the building cheap.

The bank recommended contractors to install two full-level underground parking lots and two double-Olympic-sized heated salt water pools with a small shallow pool to teach very young children to swim. They also added three more upper floors.

I offered to retrain the previous teachers to my standards and they all accepted. We arranged accommodation for them locally during the reconstruction so they could attend my advanced classes and each requalified.

I perfected my Korean language skills too in another computer course.

The extension work was approved quickly and completed in two months. The builders had done a superb job.

I had the latest gym equipment installed with four weight benches, one which used smaller weights only so the dedicated body builders couldn't hog it too.

There was an entire floor for martial arts and another for various aerobics, dancercise and dance classes. There was a three bedroom apartment and four smaller ones on the top floor among the offices with a staff canteen and lounge. Two of the large rooms could quickly be turned into dormitories with two-level bunks for intensive training courses.

The pool with the nearby kiddy pool was segregated women only, the other was unisex. I didn't think many dads would want to teach their toddlers to swim.

Despite all my hygiene precautions, the water in that children's pool still needed to be flushed and changed every day, sometimes several times.

Chapter 10

Meeting Armando

After my hair had finally grown in enough so I no longer needed extensions, Fermina introduced me to a long-time family friend who liked to keep a paternal eye on her. Armando Passos had heard of my martial arts expertise and was interested in seeing it for himself.

He ran a dojo in the northwest of the same state, a fair distance away, so Fermina and I were collected with our luggage and driven to stay with his family in their palatial home.

I was most impressed by the chauffeur sent for us. He had beautiful, thick, ash-blonde hair worn in a long fat braid halfway down his back. My own hair had proved disappointingly thin and limp, so I used gel to give it more body.

The driver also had very fine-textured, palest ivory skin, extremely sun-sensitive, yet it wasn't pink like an albino's. I had seen him reapply sunblock regularly whenever we stopped for a comfort break on our long car journey.

He shaded his face with his peaked cap and the sun visors and wore light driving gloves. Paul was very respectful to Fermina and smiled at me whenever he caught me staring.

He looked somehow familiar. It was hours before I recalled where I'd seen him—wearing fangs on the covers of two vampire books. He certainly had the looks for modelling, and with his pale translucent skin, he made a perfect vampire.

Armando's wife Rosa was a warm motherly woman, eager to nurture 'the poor orphan' and a little shocked to find me prickly. She knew people who had known Alessandra's family and was aghast at my early independence.

Fermina pointed out that if I had been as helpless as the usual protected girl child of my years I would not have survived alone. She praised my American mother's forethought in having me taught to defend myself.

Armando asked about my certification.

"I've had only one from Master Inque certifying me at black belt level in Taekwondo, but that has been lost along the way."

"Ask him for another copy. It is important to have your dojo registered and to have proper accreditation of your achievements if you wish to teach.

"Alessandra is a very pretty name, but you need something stronger for your martial arts identity. It will also allow you some privacy if you become well known."

"I registered the dojo in Buenos Aires when I began teaching there, sir, under the initials TMAA for Taj's Martial Arts Academy. My mother sometimes called me Taj, when I had done something that pleased her. It means 'the best'.

"The registration people said that I didn't need to give a permanent address, just to update it each time I moved, that wherever I taught would be my dojo."

"That is correct. Do you have a logo and certificates prepared?"

I showed Armando those on my computer.

"Congratulations. Those are the most professional-looking certificates I've ever seen. So your colors are black and dark red??"

"Black, cherry and metallic gold, sir."

"Very nice. What other martial arts do you have besides Taekwondo?"

"I'm good at most of them sir, including the French ones, but they were studied informally during the time I was in hiding and I'm not at liberty to disclose who were my teachers.

"Gōjū-ryū karate and Jiujutsu are probably my favorites. I have also invented two new Gōjū-ryū kata, one intermediate and one advanced, and a number of Jiujutsu moves."

"Humph. The current kata are sufficient for everyone else. Do you have a corresponding bunkai oyo for each of these new kata?"

"Of course."

"Well, after Fermina has rested, we'll attend the dojo and you may show me how good you are."

"Do I really need a chaperone if you are there sir? It would be an imposition on Fermina who has no interest in the martial arts."

"Yes, you do need a chaperone. A young girl of good family must be known to have been protected to retain her marriageability status. There is no leeway allowed on this rule. Fermina would be remiss in her duty if she failed in this regard."

"Yes sir. Do I continue to address you as sir or as sensei?"

"Sir will do for the present. When and if I take over your training, then you may address me as sensei."

* * *

Armando's chauffeur drove us to the dojo an hour later. I had already changed into my gi with the black obi, added a light coat for the return journey to my accessory bag and carried the cane.

Armando simply walked into the advanced Gōjū-ryū class. I bowed at the door and waited for the teacher's acknowledgement before following him.

He introduced me to the teacher as Taj and asked me to choose a partner. I chose a shorter young man, who seemed the best in the class. Armando sat at the side of the room with Fermina, who had brought her needlework basket, and watched as we went through a very basic session. The chauffeur sat just inside the door.

"Alright Taj, please teach the class your new kata."

I bowed to my partner and asked if he would aid me. He bowed back and agreed. I bowed to the teacher and took his place as he sat next to Armando.

I slowly demonstrated each individual move of the kata twice, while the students followed, then the whole in one flowing sequence. Armando and the teacher were no longer seated. I noticed them at the rear of the class, learning the moves too.

It was only an intermediate kata of twenty known moves, and these were advanced students, so they picked it up quickly.

I asked the students on the left in each pair to continue with the kata slowly while I showed their partners the related bunkai oyo. We all did that twice more, then I demonstrated with my new partner at normal speed.

After five more repetitions, I had the students reverse and taught the bunkai oyo to the others the same way till everyone had it perfectly.

"Sir, shall I teach the class the advanced kata also?"

"Yes sensei, we would all appreciate your doing that."

Armando and the teacher bowed to me. The class and my partner followed suit.

I bowed to my class and began on the harder twenty-seven step kata with my partner, just two slow moves at a time, then the first four together, the next two, then the six, the next two, and the eight.

There were a few gasps at that as the eighth was one of five moves that were new to Gōj-ryū. I repeated them separately, one at a time, four times until everyone had them then three moves together.

We practiced the entire kata until all the moves were reasonably fluid. I had to stop and move onto the floor to amend a few incorrect stances.

The other teacher was making the fifteenth move too high and too far forward, so I corrected the man in front of him, having him make the moves more slowly as the teacher followed. The teacher nodded his thanks. I nodded back.

With that down I taught the complementary bunkai oyo, also two new moves at a time. This had four completely new karate moves, but the class handled them well.

When I was satisfied that they were being made correctly, I had the students pair off again, working the two related combinations together.

Both my new kata flowed more smoothly than most, so it was a pleasure to watch a class perform them in unison, like an exotic dance.

I asked my partner how long the class usually took.

"An hour," he said.

I had been running the class for three full hours.

"Sir, shall I dismiss the class now?"

"Yes sensei, I believe they've had their money's worth today."

I bowed to my partner and thanked him for his aid, gave the closure, bowed, and received the class's responses and bows, then moved over to Fermina.

"I'm sorry we took so long Fermina, were you horribly bored?"

"No Taj, I quite enjoyed watching a class of over forty grown men obeying my little six-year-old daughter. I doubt that happens very often."

"It has never happened here before, but I believe it will become a common sight in the future." said Armando. There is a class in Savate soon. Are you up for that, Taj?"

"Yes please, sir. Is that alright with you Fermina?"

"This is what we came for Taj."

"Can I wear my gi with my boots and gloves sir? That's what I usually do."

"Whatever you feel comfortable with, Taj"

My boots were black with cherry laces. I put them on over cherry socks, but carried my violet gloves and took my bag and the cane as Fermina was busy reorganizing her needlework.

Armando looked surprised. "You have achieved silver gloves status? Which level?"

"Three, sir.

"That will make you the highest ranking tireuse in the state, if not the country. As a woman, you cannot compete, but you are permitted to fight opponents in private club matches."

"Yes sir, I am also allowed to challenge visiting French champions. I have fought the last three that toured here and won.

"There are no certificates awarded for these private club matches, but I have letters of acknowledgement from each champion on official club stationery attesting that he was defeated by me, with the date and club officials' signatures as witnesses."

"There is another French champion touring in a few months, we'll see what we can arrange, I would be very interested to see you fight a high caliber opponent. No matter how good you are, they would have the advantage of reach, weight, experience and superior hitting power."

"Reach, yes, but I can match any man in hitting power and speed. Being small, I don't provide an easy target and I'm never where they expect me to be.

"Emil nicknamed me La Tabanita the little breeze fly or horsefly and wrote an article about our match for a French magazine which printed some photos. We even had the cover pic."

"Can you get me copies of that?"

"Sure, I scanned it to my computer. Do you want a digital transfer or a printout?"

"Printout please."

I ran it off straightaway and handed over the original French copy and an English translation."

"The magazine is printed in English too?"

"No sir. I translated it and Photoshopped the cover copy to match."

"A very professional job, Taj. I presume you also have professeur level as a teacher of savate?"

"Yes sir."

"Good."

Most of the class had gone already. My partner had stayed and waited for me to finish the conversation before introducing himself.

"I am Phillip. May I have the honor of carrying your bag, sensei?

I smiled and gave it to him, retaining the stick. We followed Armando who was reading the article as he walked, and Fermina.

* * *

I saw a small movement from a side corridor, grabbed and pulled Fermina, pushing her into Phillip's arms while fending off the cane which had attempted to trip her. I charged low, taking out the feet of the cane fighter, reversed my cane and smacked his fibula as he fell.

Armando turned and raised an eyebrow.

"Explain please, Simon," he ordered the boy on the floor who had a pair of yellow gloves threaded over his belt.

"Sir, the little minx attacked me when I offered her challenge."

"You, a mere yellow glove, thought to defeat a third level silver? Not even by subterfuge could you manage that, as she has proved. Taj?"

"He tried to trip Fermina with his cane. I blocked the stick, pulled her back and gave her to Phillip to support, then charged him and broke his fibula."

"Phillip?"

"It was so fast I didn't see anything until I was holding her mother and Taj was blocking his stick. Then she seemed to dive around the corner at him while reversing her cane and whacked his calf as he fell. She landed on both feet in a crouch, ready to strike again."

"So she used the momentum of her dive and of the cane swing to strike while still in the air? And twisted around mid-dive? I've never seen that. No wonder you defeated three French champions, sensei. Did you devise that move too?"

"Yes sir, but it will only work for someone small. I developed a number of such moves to handle much larger opponents."

Simon was still lying on the floor and now feeling the pain. I squatted and pulled the two broken pieces into alignment while he grimaced.

"Sir, do you have plaster bandage or at least a balloon splint?"

Armando sent someone to fetch them.

"I hope you have clean underwear, Simon, as we'll need to remove your pants. They won't come off over a plaster cast."

"I hope you know what you're doing?"

"I'm a second-year medical student. This is a clean simple break, but the fibula is the bone responsible for turning your leg in and out and for ankle movement, so you will need a cast immobilizing the leg from above the knee down." No need to tell him that setting bones was no longer taught for the MD. I did have experience though, as I had set dozens of broken animal and avian bones.

"You will sign it for me, won't you sensei?"

Fermina had finally freed herself and knelt to remove his shoe. "Seems an awful lot of trouble to go to for an autograph."

"But it will be unique. Worth a fortune later when she becomes famous."

The supplies arrived.

"Phillip, please pull his pants down now, and be careful not to expose him. I may have studied anatomy but I haven't yet seen a live specimen and don't wish to do so now. He has been affected by the shock of the injury."

Simon wore tight blue long-legged undies which firmly outlined his huge erection. A couple of girl students gawked and tittered to themselves.

Simon winked at me. "It pays to advertise."

"Not to me, it doesn't. My family are old school Argentinian and I will be carefully chaperoned until after my wedding. In fact, if I wasn't holding your leg together, Armando would have had me whisked away by now.

"Anyway, it's not even a foot long. Don't get uppity. I've eaten sandwiches which were bigger."

The general laughter alerted me that I'd said the wrong thing, but it was a while before I'd puzzled it out. I'm not usually dirty-minded.

"Phillip, please grab Simon's ankle and pull steadily while I remove my hand. Move your fingers up under mine as I let go. Perfect."

I moved my right hand up to just below the left, placed the left inside the scrunched up trouser leg and asked the twittering girls to pull down the pants legs in unison.

I moved my right hand down to grab his ankle again so Phillip could let go, then nodded to him to grip again after the pants were removed.

Simon had hairy legs.

"Okay Simon, unless you want your leg hair ripped off with the cast, we'll need to shave this leg."

The girls stopped their twittering and did a competent job, then tenderly slathered the leg and foot with petroleum jelly.

I asked for a male volunteer to stand astride Simon's waist and grip firmly on his thigh, while I sorted through the supplies.

There was a D-shaped stirrup which I maneuvered over Simon's instep after wrapping the foot in plain cotton wool. Phillip held it in place.

I wrapped the plaster bandage loosely over the plain cotton wool to allow for swelling, wet down my hands and massaged water into the plaster, then scrubbed bits of gunk off my hands before it set.

Someone had fetched an oversized old pair of karate pants which were slipped back on him and Simon was helped up.

"Wrap a blanket around the plaster when you get home and keep the leg elevated whenever possible to keep swelling to a minimum."

"Why do I need a blanket? It feels quite warm."

"As soon as the plaster settles, it will start to dry, draining away your body heat. Then it will feel like a block of ice."

I gave him both canes to walk with.

"You're not afraid to be defenseless against me?"

"Simon, even with both legs and armed, you couldn't handle me with my arms tied behind my back. Get over yourself and go home before you pass out."

"I'm no weanling, I won't faaiiii . . . "

And down he started until I caught and pulled him upright. The canes clattered to the floor.

"Do we have a wheel chair? Someone get him out of here."

* * *

There were only fifteen minutes left of the intermediate savate class when we finally arrived there. My earlier karate students were sitting against the walls as observers. I moved among the students, correcting their stance.

With one chap, I had to move his leg by hand the way it should have gone before he understood, but he got it right the next try.

This teacher wasn't good enough to be teaching beginners.

"What do you suggest professeur?"

"That I teach all your savate levels, including the teachers in one large two-hour class daily, sir. Do you have a room big enough?"

"Yes we do. I can have it and the students ready in fifteen minutes."

We were given herb tea and fruit scones while we waited. I ate Fermina's share and looked for more. Amused, Phillip passed me his. I smiled my thanks.

Phillip and the other karate students wanted to participate in my class too. We adjourned to the auditorium.

I chose Ron, the chap I had corrected earlier for my partner. He had originally appeared hopeless, but had made the move perfectly after I showed him how, and that's what I needed in a partner.

We went through the basics, removing all the wrong teaching.

Ron's improvement inspired everybody. He only needed one adjustment for any movement to get it perfect, so while he demonstrated each step over and over, I moved among the students, adjusting and rectifying as needed.

The beginners and karate boys picked things up more quickly than the experienced students who had a lot to unlearn.

After I corrected two of Armando's moves, the other teachers were happy to accept my corrections too. We made great progress.

Nobody wanted to stop after the two hours, so we went for another, but then I had to stop because of hunger. Everyone could hear my stomach rumbles.

"Sorry people but I must eat. We can resume in an hour if you all can handle more of me."

Armando's chauffeur brought in a great basket of food and I wolfed into it, eating at least half by myself. Armando looked surprised, but didn't comment.

When I returned to class, Phillip presented me with two large chocolate milkshakes which I also ingurgitated.

"You keep this up Phillip, and my mother will start marriage negotiations with yours." He and Fermina both laughed.

After another hour, the class looked more businesslike. The students all had the boxing moves down and knew the kicks. Grapples were less important at this stage and could be picked up later as could speed.

I put together a short savate defense combination of feints, punches and kicks and when the class had that, taught them the reciprocal attack combination and had them practice those in pairs, swapping over every ten minutes, allowing Ron to step back in the class and partner with some of the weaker students for a while.

He looked absolutely brilliant compared to most of the others. Meanwhile I partnered in turn with the weakest teachers.

Next I taught a totally different kata and complementary combination, demonstrated these using Ron and again corrected the students on the floor.

My stomach reminded me that another three hours had passed. I told the class to continue practicing both sets as long as they liked, but I was going to look for nourishment. Fermina and I walked out together.

* * *

Armando raced after us.

"Taj, you can't just walk out on a class like that."

"Why not? I set them something to work on. I'm hungry and need food."

"But you just ate enough for five people and then had two giant milkshakes. You can't be hungry already."

"That was three hours ago. I like to eat at regular intervals. Can't you hear the borborygmus? My gut is cramping and I'm tired. I'm sick of your trying to suck every bit of knowledge out of me for free without caring how I or Fermina feel.

"She has been bored out of her brain all day and has creases on her backside from the bench seat. You haven't even bothered to provide her with a comfortable chair. Fermina and I will be going home tonight. We've had enough."

"Just who is the adult here? Who is in charge? How can you let her behave like this Fermina?"

Fermina had found a more comfortable chair and sat down, ignoring him.

"Fermina is a well brought up Argentinian woman who wouldn't dream of talking back to a man. I'm a trained killer, so I say what I please.

"You forget Armando, that despite my youth, I am a successful businesswoman. I run my own three dojos, at a very nice profit too. I trained my own staff, all superb teachers, and I pay them well, at least double what you pay the no-hopers here.

"My staff are loyal and work hard for me, but I wouldn't ask anyone to put in the hours you forced on me today. And still you want to suck more from me.

"Don't let's forget that I'm a hungry six-year-old child who has been allowed no nap all day.

"You're a mean old miser and almost bankrupt because you have no idea how to handle staff or students. You can't even give your own teachers respect. Walking in and interrupting a class the way you did and displacing the teacher without any explanation, is disgraceful.

"You cannot teach martial arts properly unless you yourself live by the code. Your own teachers would be ashamed to see you today."

My last comment hit a nerve. Armando's face and bravado collapsed. He was suddenly a broken man.

"You're right. I'm sorry. Come into the office and I'll pay you what I owe.

Chapter 11

New Partner & Assistants

I followed Armando into his office, and that's where I saw them—the two small neat gray certificates, printed in dark blue, just like the many he'd written up for me—and I was swept back to memories of the only adult I had befriended at Typhon.

"You were a student of Horrie's. No wonder my barb stung. He was so big on instilling the right spirit in his kids."

"Yes, he was a great man and teacher. Were you taught by one of his students?"

"No, Horrie trained me himself."

"I thought he was killed in the Terror. They found the bodies of his wife and children."

"Horrie was with the rebels. The Government troops captured him. He was tortured—electrocuted over and over by some incompetent. They fried his brain.

"When he wouldn't talk, because by then he couldn't, they broke in on his family, skewered his two-year-old daughter with a bayonet, then his eight-year-old son. The children never awoke and died instantly. One of the bastards filmed the whole thing.

"Then they went for the wife, expecting to rape her. She fought so hard against armed professional soldiers, killed two of them with just her bare hands, head and feet. The officer came up behind and beheaded her with his saber.

"The Americans gave Horrie a videotape. I used to watch it with him. He was so proud of her and pleased that they all died quickly, without suffering."

That's where I had seen him before! Much younger, of course.

But it was the security chief who had blackmailed the Ambassador in Buenos Aires.

I had been within feet of the bastard who murdered Horrie's wife, and I had let him live!

I just stood there, the tears streaming down my face.

Armando fetched Fermina who wiped my tears and made me blow my nose.

"Is there anything I can do Taj?"

"Yes Mom, get the chauffeur and buy me food. A lot of it, please, enough for everyone.

"Armando, I know the chauffeur was hired to impress me and that you really cannot afford him, nor that fool mansion. When he returns, let him and the limo go.

"Find yourself a small flat and get out of that mausoleum. Rosa is wearing herself out trying to keep it up without staff. It's time to earn back your self-respect. I can get you out of this mess if you do as I say.

"I want a fifty/fifty split in the dojo. I'll cover your debts if you transfer your mortgage to Bank Galen. Remember, I'm doing this for Horrie, not for you. He would have liked me to help another of his students."

"Is he still alive?"

I checked. "Yes he is. He's eighty now." I always sent love to Horrie when I did all my other Typhon friends, and had given him extra on this milestone birthday. Somehow he had learnt to reflect some of the love back to me so I could feel it.

It may even have been a subconscious reflex—his brain was so damaged, it was hard to tell—but it showed that he still lived. His martial arts skills had remained intact and he was an excellent teacher, but he would only teach children.

I was his favorite student. He had noticed my aptitude early and pushed me hard, but carefully, so the guards and officials didn't notice how much I knew.

I would pass on his new teachings to the others when we were outside the wire where Typhon listened but couldn't see us except when the satellite was overhead. And Horrie knew the satellite's schedule.

I became a skilled teacher there because our lives could depend on this proficiency.

Every few months Horrie's brain would short circuit and he'd go to pieces, mourning his lost family. I would sneak into his room then and we'd cuddle up under a blanket in his big wingback chair, watch that horrible video and fall asleep together.

I always felt safe in his arms. The guards all knew, but they loved Horrie too and covered for us, because I was the only one who could calm him.

Horrie was one of the few masters of Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and taught me every secret move of that art at every level, without my needing to sit out the ridiculous number of years at every stage that the authorities had ordained.

As Horrie said, once you had mastered each move and could execute it with perfect form, it was yours forever and needed no further practice. He was also a master of many other martial arts and brought me up to the highest levels there. We often spent the night in practice when he couldn't sleep.

He had a fixation about proper certification—that had to be where Armando picked it up—and wrote me up a new certificate each time I had another achievement. He kept these certificates in a metal box behind a loose brick next to his bed leg.

He reminded me often that I must take them with me when I escaped—he even helped organize our escape plans—but when the time came I had to help with the young ones and didn't have a chance to collect them.

I owed Horrie a great deal.

* * *

I had investigated Armando's financial situation and reputation before we arrived here. The dojo was a good one with a lot of potential but he was only two months from foreclosure. I could have waited and acquired it cheaply, but he was also Horrie's student, a friend of Fermina's family, and his wife knew the Albas.

I contacted Maggie and had her arrange the mortgage transfer and partnership papers. One of the part-time teachers was a notary public. Armando fetched her to witness our transactions.

I arranged with Maggie for the same firm which had handled my previous dojo alterations to do this one, but to add four extra floors.

The blueprints were ready in moments. I scanned and approved them. The work would begin in two days.

* * *

Fermina and the chauffeur appeared with a banquet. There was no canteen or dining area, so we returned to the auditorium where my students were still practicing.

Several of them volunteered to help bring in the rest of the food and we all picnicked there, sitting on the floor. Except that Fermina used the chair from the hallway, making the hard bench her table.

As Armando had made no statement, I announced that we had gone into partnership and I was having the building remodeled and extended. Anyone who had property on the premises should remove it today as all furniture would be cleared out and stored during the rebuilding.

Fermina and I would be moving to a local hotel whose ballroom I had rented for continued classes.

I paid Paul what Armando owed him then rehired him and his limo.

Fermina returned with him to the house to collect our luggage, explain the situation to Rosa and move into our hotel suite with the chauffeur in an adjoining room. Armando didn't say a word about either her or my needing to be chaperoned.

* * *

Each student typed their full names into my computer which printed out sticky labels for them to wear so I could learn to recognize them.

After everyone had eaten their fill and tidied up, I started the next session, with calisthenics designed to ease digestion and taught three more kata and their bilateral series.

While the class was practicing those, I talked to Ron as we moved among the students. He was better looking than average but his lack of confidence and habitual hunched clumsiness gave him an aura of dorkiness. He was painfully shy but slowly opened up to me.

He lived at home with his mother and gave her all the wages he earned at his job as a pharmacist. Dear Mom had no other income, and though able-bodied, had never worked and had no qualifications.

Dad had run off ten years ago and Ron had since worked fulltime at the pharmacy while studying five years for certification by computer and occasional night classes. Mom had found it very hard to manage during that time though she owned her own home, inherited from a relative.

I asked about her house-keeping. Ron said she kept the house spotless.

Her cooking? "Gourmet."

Could she swim? "She was school champion."

"Does she have a life-saving certificate?"

"Oh yes, all the swimmers had those."

"Did she teach you to swim?

"Yes she did and my sisters too."

"Does she have a driving license and car?

"Yes."

"So she could hire out as a house-cleaner, work for a maid service or start one herself. Work as a cook or caterer, life-guard or swimming teacher. Even pizza deliverer or local courier making small deliveries for several shops, such as your pharmacy."

Ron thought that through and agreed she could handle any of those jobs easily.

"Do you enjoy your work at the pharmacy?"

"Not really. It was wonderful that the owner gave me a job when Dad left and enabled my professional training, but the work is dull and so are the customers. It's not what I want to do for the rest of my life."

"What do you really want to do?"

"I'm not certain, but I have enjoyed working with you today and helping the other students learn to do things better. It was awful when I was trying really hard and always getting the moves wrong. Somehow, you showed me the right way and it was suddenly easy."

"That's because I noticed that you learn movement by feeling within yourself when your body does it correctly. That kinesthetic sense is called proprioception.

"Yours only extends to your own body at present. I hope to train you to see when other people are moving wrongly so you can correct them too. You would make a magnificent martial arts teacher Ron. Do you drive?"

"Yes Mom taught me years ago—that's another of her talents."

"Good, I'd like to hire you as my assistant and driver. I'll train you and you will accompany me to my other dojos.

"We'll find you accommodation nearby, as unfortunately you cannot stay with Fermina and me, because of the weird thing Catholic Argentinians have about keeping single girls and widows chaperoned and celibate."

"I'll need to work out my notice at the pharmacy."

"That's fine. Never burn your bridges if you can avoid it. You probably will want to return occasionally, to fill in when someone takes a holiday or gets sick and to keep your hand in. That's fine, too. The owner sounds like a good person."

* * *

Fermina, Rosa and my chauffeur Paul went out to examine the flats for rent that Maggie had listed in preferential order. The first proved perfect—nice, clean, close by, affordable and furnished, with a spare room for the few precious belongings Rosa couldn't bear to be parted from.

They had moved her in already. Everything else would be stripped, packed and put into storage the next day with the dojo furnishings.

* * *

Fermina and I had a relaxed dinner with Paul in our suite.

He was a warmer person away from Armando and had already made friends with Fermina. She asked him what he had thought of all the martial arts he had seen that day.

"It was fascinating. I'd love to learn that properly. Your daughter makes it look so easy. I managed to pick some up myself, but I'm not sure how to apply it."

That sounded promising to me.

"Paul why don't you put on some loose clothing after dinner and show me what you learnt today."

He did, and perfectly demonstrated the basic karate moves I had first followed under the advanced teacher, then the new kata I had demonstrated, and all the basic and other savate moves I had taught. Including the last three kata and reprisals that I had shown while he was busy getting the banquet food.

His eyes had been following me all day while his body, so much larger and differently structured from mine, had learned all the moves without practicing them first. But those last six combinations he must have copied from Ron.

I had never seen that before. Horrie had heard of a person with such a talent, but never met him. My own gift was similar, but not as well developed. I had to perform the actions physically before I owned them, and even so made small errors which Horrie had needed to correct.

* * *

We rose early the next morning, a Saturday. We ate a big breakfast and returned to the dojo with some dozen volunteers to strip out all the mats and transfer them to the hotel. We also packed the shop goods.

I picked out three changes of gi, savate shoes, cane and gloves for Paul, gi and cane for Ron, two black belts and a replacement cane for myself. The remaining goods were transferred to our suite and the boxes piled so the labels were visible.

Ron had brought his sisters, Naomi fourteen, Ruth twelve and mother Janine, all ready to learn more martial arts. He had shown them what he had learnt yesterday and the girls had picked it up easily, almost as quickly as Paul had.

Mom was just determined to get into something all her kids were so good at. She had a very strong competitive streak.

It seemed unbelievable that I could have such luck as to find four people with this rare talent. They had to be related somehow, probably through the errant father.

And he was still out there somewhere, procreating!

Phillip brought me a basket of large apples, washed and polished, to nibble on occasionally. He was definitely sucking up, giving me amorous looks too.

He tried to stay close to me, but I partnered with both Ron and Paul today.

Chapter 12

First Breakthroughs

I primed the class with some hard calisthenics, not as punishing as my usual choice, but still great for warming up.

"Okay class, last night Paul told me that he didn't know how to apply the kata he had learnt yesterday. I thought most of you would probably have the same problem.

"It's all very well learning some exotic dance steps and shadow boxing, but how does this help you to defend yourself from some mugger on the street? And what if he had a knife?

"After this class, each of you will be able to handle that situation with ease, just with what you learned yesterday. I won't teach you anything new today, but I will teach you how to use what you already know.

"In all martial arts, the kata are designed to teach you to make the moves correctly, so that after a few thousand repetitions they will be part of you, but you're all too impatient to wait so long. Right?"

There was a resounding chorus of 'yeahs' and 'rights'.

"Okay, I want you all to do just the first kata alone while visualizing an assailant coming at you, using the moves in the reciprocal attack combination. See his aggression. He's so confident. Wait until he's within reach.

"Don't reveal that you know how to defend yourself. Don't telegraph your moves. Gather your energies. Center yourself. As soon as he's close enough, explode into offensive and fight with the first kata move.

"See him falter and try the second attack move which your next move in the kata will block or neutralize and then how your following moves will defeat him.

"Good, I can see that you are really there in that scene. Okay, once more."

I turned to Ron.

"I am now going to attack you Ron, fairly slowly, and I want you to fight back and disarm me, using what you know."

I pulled out a glittering realistic dagger and lunged at him. Ron's foot struck straight forward and kicked it out of my hand. We circled each other. I pulled out a lumpy rock and struck at his shoulder. He turned away leaning back as he kicked me low in the shin and chopped at the rock which fell apart into the modelling clay and salt it was made of.

As he was now bent forward, I made an uppercut jab at his chin. He quickly straightened grabbed both my wrists and lifted me. Then just as my knee headed for his genitals, he turned side on, put a knee in my side and kicked me forcefully across the room.

Then he stood there, aghast at what he'd just done.

I stood up laughing. "You cheated Ron. There were some moves in there that I haven't taught you yet. And you weren't supposed to really hit me, but to pull your punches and kicks to just touch me without force. I must have forgotten to mention that."

He still looked woebegone. "Okay, sourpuss, give me a hug." And I leapt up so he had to catch me in his arms. The hug was mutually satisfactory and made him smile.

I saw the hungry look on Phillip's face before Ron loosened his grip and let me slide back down. I forced a smile, picked up the knife, and launched a surprise attack on Paul.

He was brilliant, pulling out the right move from his small repertoire to counter each of my aggressions, though I was using some attacks he hadn't yet seen and doing so at full speed.

Paul's face was full of joy as he finally understood what his perfect kata moves had given him.

I moved back and bowed to him. Paul bowed in return, and because of our great height disparity, couldn't resist giving me a smacking kiss on the forehead as I rose.

The shocked gasps of the onlookers made him realize that such informality was not proper in martial arts.

"I'm sorry, sensei, I forgot myself. Kisses aren't permitted, are they?"

"Not from anyone else, Paul, but you get a special dispensation. You may kiss me every time I make you as happy as that. I only wish I could teach what you just learned to every one of my students as easily. Many take years to get it. Some never do."

I faced the class. "Does anyone here understand what it is that Paul just discovered?"

There was silence. I waited.

"He discovered that once a person has learned the perfect stance and form of a kata, every move in it becomes part of him for life. From then on, his body will automatically provide the correct move to handle every attack situation without his having to think about it."

"That is correct Armando. Our teacher, whom I knew by his fighting name, Master Prospero, instilled that into each of his students, He was always overjoyed when one eventually made the breakthrough.

"I have finally beaten my sensei at something. The fastest any of his students came to that realization was two months, and that was myself.

"Yesterday morning Paul knew no martial arts at all.

"But his body recognized perfect form. His eyes followed my movements all day, and without copying any of them physically, his body, so different from mine, learned them perfectly.

"Even the last six combination pairs which I had finished showing before he returned to the class. He picked those up from watching Ron who also has perfect form, though he hasn't yet gained the confidence to understand it.

"Paul has achieved the breakthrough in less than twenty-four hours." I picked up an apple and lobbed it to him. "So he gets the first prize of the day."

Paul bowed to me and bit into the fruit. The class and I bowed to him.

We spent the remainder of the morning perfecting stance and form, everyone working the first kata alone. Paul, Ron and I wandered the room making minor corrections as needed. Ron's two sisters were the first to get perfect form.

I immediately attacked both at once. They too pulled out the correct moves to counter me, working together to force me back. Suddenly, they too realized how the kata worked and their faces too lit with joy at the revelation.

I gave them each an apple and sent them out to help correct the other students. They had just broken Paul's record.

Armando followed. He didn't know he had it until I charged at him with the paper dagger and we sparred back and forth, then the tears of happiness just poured down his face.

A seven-year-old boy was next, so shocked when I attacked him with the dagger that he almost knocked me out with his kick and uppercut. That pleased him so much that he jumped around, whooping for joy.

I went to get his apple, grabbed two, tossed him one in passing and approached a nine-year-old girl, sweeping my leg out to trip her. She grabbed it and threw me, then laughed as I tossed her the apple, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

The advanced karate teacher followed, then more children, two of the karate boys, the lady savate teacher I'd thought woeful—she gave me a hug as she wept her happiness. Then more children until we ran out of apples.

One of the hotel staff carried in a whole box of apples, also washed and freshly polished, placed it on the table and bowed to me.

I smiled my thanks and noticed that several more people were watching from two open doorways. Someone was taking photos. They would spread the word and we'd be inundated with new students soon.

I snuck up on Ron and attacked him from behind this time. He feinted with a sweeping low kick, threw a huge punch at my belly, and when I evaded, turned the kick I'd forgotten about to hook my near leg to unbalance me and knocked me down.

He'd again forgotten to pull the moves but neither of us cared as he wept, pulled me up and hugged me hard, finally understanding the potency of this new power he had uncovered in himself.

I gave him the first of the new apples.

With fourteen other people now roaming and correcting, I took a well-deserved break. I ate one of the new apples and watched as several hesitant correctors eyed an adult man who had perfected his stance moments earlier.

Finally, the 9-y-o girl Bettina boldly attacked him. The guy was confused at first, not sure how to handle a child, but after she touched him, he understood and sparred back, everything coming so easily, he just stopped and burst into tears when he realized what had happened.

It was always like that. I could stress the importance of perfect form for weeks or months, and the students would continue to believe close enough was good enough, hardly trying and not even noticing that their bodies were working more and more easily as they strived closer to perfection.

Then suddenly they would be there and their next fight or sparring match would show them what they had achieved. Always the realization brought strong emotions and further advancement was rapid. And it was always inspiring for everyone else around.

More than half the class crossed the barrier in the next hour before we stopped for brunch.

* * *

I ate hugely, my appetite prodigious as always. I don't know if it was just a fast metabolism or whether my body might be gearing up for a sudden growth spurt which just wouldn't get started. I was so tired of being tiny and needing so much food which had to be passed frequently too.

Phillip ambushed me as soon as I left the loo.

"Have you been avoiding me Taj?"

"You're a student in my class, Phillip. I don't avoid any of my students, and I don't permit them familiarity."

"You were nice to me yesterday. You chose me for your partner."

"Only because you looked competent and were shorter than the men I usually partner. My neck gets a crick when I'm constantly towered over."

"I gave you my scones and the milkshakes."

"I bought everyone dinner and brunch."

"You gave away my apples. They were a gift for you."

"I passed the gift on to the deserving. I don't care for suck-ups, Phillip."

"I wasn't brownnosing the teacher; I genuinely like you. A lot." He actually fluttered his long eyelashes at me.

"Phillip how old is your sister now?"

"Wha . . . how . . . she's fourteen."

"So she's menstruating already and has grown too loose for your taste. Did you break her heart or was she glad to be left alone?"

"She enjoyed it too. She said she loved me."

"Of course she loved you. You were her big brother and always sweet-talked and manipulated her till you got what you wanted. Face facts—you're a dirty pedophile."

"I am not. I just wanted to be friends because I liked you so much. I thought you'd understand." He had tears in those eyes now.

"I couldn't hurt any girl. I have a really small dickie, not like that ugly big thing of Simon's. I'd never hurt you with it. You would hardly feel it at all. It would be so nice. I'd make it fun for you."

"You can stop right there. We have enough to convict you. Fermina and two other women were in the loo with me. I never go unaccompanied. They heard every word and you've been recorded on my computer. The three women walked out then, looking ill.

"I'm not what you called me."

"No? Do you think you're going to be chasing older women when you're forty or fifty? Having a small dickie is no excuse for what you do. Most oriental men are on the small size. The women usually are too, and they work hard at keeping their pelvic floors strong so they can grip those little weenies tighter.

"A small size is an advantage if you enjoy oral sex, as women can handle it more easily. There are also many other ways than penetration to please a woman if you really care about her.

"You could have discovered all that for yourself, but you prefer to manipulate naïve little girls, so you're going to jail. The crims adore child molesters. They have special treats in store for them, and they don't include little dickies."

"Please, don't call the police, Taj. I'll do anything—"

"Yes, you probably would, as this would be your third offence."

"How d'you know that? What are you?"

"I had you investigated yesterday. I'm just a very world-weary child with more ugly life experience than most women of forty. I almost killed the last pedophile I encountered—he was even younger than you—and I should have killed the one before him.

"You have two choices, Phillip—you can go to jail or go to Galen. Choose."

"Galen."

"Good choice. They have programmes that will turn your kind around. I believe it will only take a month to cure you. You'll feel better lusting after a woman instead of a child."

"I'll never stop loving you, Taj."

"Yeah, I'm such a femme fatale, to inspire undying love in only a day. Tell me that in a month and I might believe you." I opened my laptop, pressed G and two hunky Galen security guys came in and walked Phillip out.

I had to return to the loo to try to scrub off the beslimed feeling Phillip had left me with.

Chapter 13

Discovering Treasure

Paul took one look at me when I returned and opened his arms wide. I stepped into the hug and he lifted me onto his lap. He felt so wholesome after the other guy.

"I bet you have a little sister."

"Yeah, she's a real sweetheart. Feel better?"

"Yes, but keep holding me please. I just sent a pedophile away. I still feel dirty."

"That Phillip?"

"Yes."

"Thought he was a wrong 'un, but wouldn't have guessed he was that bad."

"Can I ask you a personal question Paul?"

"You can ask. There's some I won't answer."

"Do you and your sister have the same father?"

"No we don't. Mom was seduced by a well-known ladies man we had around these parts. Good looking, sweet-talking charmer, just couldn't keep it in his pants.

"Went after the married women too. Probably left forty or more by-blows before the sheriff ran him out of town after catching Dad with his wife. The wife had a daughter, prettiest thing. The sheriff adores her. She's as charming as our Dad was."

"So Ron and his sisters are your half siblings and you all have this kinesthetic talent to some degree. And there could be another forty people with the same genetic gift here. I'd like to locate them all and test them. We could start a martial arts revolution if I trained them all. They'd make fantastic teachers and champions."

"Is there money in that?"

"Sure is, if you're really good. It's one of the few areas in which children can earn as much as adults. I'm not seven yet and I own three other dojos besides half of this one and I'm raking it in.

"I have a milder version of your talent, had a really great teacher and a compulsion to learn. You have the potential to be far better than I am, and currently I'm the most accomplished martial arts expert in the country, possibly both continents.

"There are martial arts tournaments held all over the world with lots of prize money and prestige, and of course more is made on gambling.

"A good teacher can make his own hours. I don't spend all my time on martial arts. I just set up the dojo, retrain the teachers to my standards, hire other staff to work in the pools, gym, shops, cafeteria, crèche and whatever and sell shares to the teachers so they get some of the profits as well as wages.

"I teach when I feel like it, but mostly I study, I'm doing several university courses at a time by computer, picking up new languages, learning medicine and law.

"I'm thinking of adding nursing and veterinary science to cover the healing spectrum, then the natural health studies: chiropractic, naturopathy, iridology, homeopathy and whatever else I can find.

"There's interesting work being done in nutrition and in proving the really ancient Indian Ayurveda remedies and Chinese herbal medicine."

"You're lucky to be able to learn so much while young and stay out of the school system. That stultifies and compartmentalizes kids. They are brainwashed instead of educated. And emerge unable to think for themselves or research information, despite the great information revolution computers and the net have brought."

"Ooh, I like a man with passions. What other interests do you have?"

"I'm interested in nearly everything I learn. I keep getting side-tracked by one subject after another and haven't found anything yet that I want to specialize in."

"Have you studied anything formally?"

"I did two years of college, went from course to course, read loads of recommended texts and learned more from them than the set work. I haven't stopped reading since."

"Do you speed read?"

"No, I didn't like what I discovered about it."

"I know what you mean. Some methods teach you to photograph whole books in your head but don't give you any index to access the information you want, so you have to read through the whole memorized book again until you get to what you're after.

"I can teach you a better way. You need to speed read and sort the info as you go, discarding what you don't need. Even the best texts are three-quarters waffle, and you shouldn't clog your brain with that."

"Sounds great. I'd like that, Thanks."

"We'll start after dinner tonight."

* * *

I sat and watched the after-brunch session as one person after another made the quantum leap discovery. We soon had two correctors for each person still trying.

"Those of you who have already helped someone else transform, please work on practicing the second kata until you make the leap again, then the third. I'd like most of you to break through on the whole ten today, so we could do something different tomorrow.

"The rest of you continue to help the others. You need to learn to recognize the perfect form when you see it in someone else, either in those who haven't quite achieved it, or those working on the second kata."

An hour later, there were only fourteen people who hadn't yet advanced to the next stage. Everyone else had helped at least two persons to get past the barrier.

"Okay, I want to try something new. Sometimes a kata just gets to be too familiar, and we find ourselves going through the motions without really working at it. So, I've put the same moves together in a different order to make it feel unfamiliar."

I demonstrated these with only slightly taller Bettina. Even in a varied order, the steps didn't faze her. She owned those moves. The initiates were pleased to discover that they did too.

By the third repetition, four of the triers had cracked it. They and their attackers both became emotional at the accomplishment. Shortly the rest were there.

I was so pleased at the success of this maneuver I wept too. Paul handed me a tissue. We were on the fifth large box by then.

"Sensei have you ever helped a roomful of people to make the breakthrough before?" asked Armando.

"No, but only because I'd never thought to try it. Nobody has ever done it before. Getting there has always been an individual achievement, though it's inspirational to everybody who witnesses it.

"I just thought that if I could get Ron and Paul over, they could help me to push more people through. But I didn't expect all two hundred and eight of you, some complete novices, to penetrate the barrier in five and a half hours. I thank you all for this mighty honor."

I bowed to the class and they to me.

We broke early for lunch. I managed to grab the photographer and persuaded him to download all his pics to my computer. They were very professional, with some terrific action shots he had taken in close-up, wandering around on the periphery of the group.

He had captured the joy and the tears too. I paid him well for them and scanned his card so I could credit him with those I published.

Most of the students had brought their own lunches which they ate in the dining area with us, so I didn't need to treat them. Fermina had been chatting with the kitchen staff most of the morning, exchanging recipes, as she told me when we caught up again.

When I was temporarily full, Armando came over and sat with us.

"Taj, I think we should commemorate the momentous events of this morning. You accomplished something that has never been done before in martial arts. It should not be forgotten. I'm sure everyone here feels equally proud to have been part of this historic occasion."

"What do you suggest, Armando? A special certificate to mark the occasion? A bronze plaque somewhere in this ballroom in front of which our students could be photographed at celebratory milestones in their lives? Or an annual recreation of the event by invitation?"

"I think we should go with all three of your ideas. They're outstanding.

"But what I was actually thinking of was that each person who participated in these sessions should write up an acknowledgement of what happened from their own point of view. How it affected them and their attitude to martial arts, what they learnt from it that might serve them throughout their lives. That kind of thing.

"We could start a large scrapbook with these pasted in with some of those photographs you have and update it regularly."

"Well, if you can talk the students into doing that, go ahead, but putting it on computer might work better. You're the one big on certification. I've done okay without mine so far, though I do hope to collect them all one day. Master Prospero would be unhappy to know that I hadn't wallpapered all my offices with them."

I nibbled away at the rest of my lunch while composing a long email to Emil. I asked if the magazine Savate which had featured our story would be interested in printing articles by La Tabanita.

The first would be about how in less than two days I had 208 students, new to me, of all ages and degrees, including 43 savate novices and six martial arts newbies, achieve the kata breakthrough six to ten times each.

In the second I planned to give complete instructions on how this was achieved. I attached six of the better photos and the photographer's details, saving the best ones for the articles and cover.

Horrie subscribed to that magazine among others, I figured that if Typhon hadn't noticed my previous cover and other pictures, they wouldn't see this either, and it would be a way of letting my sensei know I was doing well.

* * *

I had not considered Armando to be a very persuasive person, but next morning he gave me a great sheaf of acknowledgements, mostly written on the hotel stationery. Some were only a few lines, some over five pages, and sure enough, there were 208 of them. I scanned them to computer and handed them back for safe keeping.

Simon had returned to class after having heard of yesterday's breakthroughs. He was unable to participate in floor work yet, but having passed the white glove grade, he must have qualified to judge at national and inter-club competitions.

I asked how many contests he had judged. He had to admit that he'd only adjudicated at club matches as there were no dojos teaching savate nearer than mine.

I taught the morning class three more kata and reciprocal combinations, each featuring a spin and the important Decalage sidestep after a completely different type of move. After brunch everybody again practiced each kata until achieving the breakthrough, far more quickly than yesterday. There were fewer tears this time, but a lot of happiness.

After lunch I had Simon and the other five students who had reached white glove grade or higher, judge sparring pairs. Most everybody achieved white or yellow grade, with only a few, including Janine and other former neophytes at red glove status.

That also was phenomenal, but of course no large groups have ever achieved perfect form in savate so quickly, thus bypassing the earlier clumsy grades.

I actually would have classed many of the students at higher levels, but accepted these gradings and put them into my computer, then printed out certificates for each person except Simon.

I'd designed the breakthrough certificate last night: white background, raised gold heading and names, with a fine line deep blue surround and deep blue writing with my usual logo.

None of the newly upgraded students had judged competitions as yet, a requisite of each senior grade, but that would be remedied shortly after the rebuilding was completed, and I could bus out some of my previous students.

More importantly, each student had demonstrated the ability to read when another student had achieved perfect form. That was much harder to do than judging competitions.

Their teachers now needed to put the students through various official internet coaching and training courses, and check they had learnt all the requirements, rules and regulations.

The students would need experience at sparring and competing in club matches before meeting with my other students for their first interclub competitions.

I gave Paul his certificates first and suggested he spend the evening with his family as we would be returning home early the next morning. I handed out the remaining certificates without too much ceremony.

I asked for four volunteers to accompany me to my other dojos for additional training and to help extend the breakthroughs to my earlier students. As it was still school term, I couldn't take children, school teachers or anyone with a fulltime job.

Also they would need a current passport to go to Buenos Aires. That left over fifty eager applicants. I chose Janine, Armando, Scott, the senior karate teacher and Maureen, the intermediate savate teacher.

Armando thanked me for everything I had accomplished with the group. I thanked the class and told them I'd see them in the new building soon.

Fermina and I packed everything except what we'd need tomorrow and retired early.

Paul delivered the remaining shop boxes to the home of the senior savate teacher, Sebastian, who would be in charge until Armando returned, then he drove us home.

Chapter 14

Upgrading the second Dojo

We dropped our guests at my big dojo, the men to share the three-bedroom flat, the women in a two bedroom one. I requested they order several boxes of apples and put the entire school through the regimen I had taught them.

I introduced Paul to the gym members who had billeted Emil and the other French champions. They lived four doors down from Fermina's house. The limo would be parked in Fermina's empty double garage.

Fermina was happy to get back to her own life while Paul and I attended to my dojo. It was harder during weekdays to combine all the savate or karate classes as more people here worked odd hours.

Only two of my teachers had ever made the breakthrough, and that only once each in their specialties, so they were intrigued by the possibilities of multiple breakthroughs replacing years of often tedious training.

So our movements would be completely clear, Paul and I both wore tight tee-shirts, he in muscle pants and I in workout leggings. Good-looking, athletic, blond Paul managed to charm all the young female savate and la canne students.

They slacked off in order to have him come and correct their postures when they should have been working harder to perfect their stance.

He handled that beautifully, frowning in annoyance when they repeated errors he had already corrected.

Inevitably the first girl achieved perfect form. Paul sparred with her, then hugged her as she wept. He gave her a fresh tissue from a small packet tucked inside his tee-shirt pocket and a kiss on the forehead when he brought her apple.

The other ladies then applied every effort to win his approval, but Paul only kissed those who had been trying all along, whether they were matrons, elderly or very young.

I restricted my attentions to the male students who weren't interested in flirting and brought them over fast so they could help Paul spot the errors and the perfect form.

Soon Paul too could take a break as the students helped each other come across. I noticed with amusement that the girls weren't interested in being kissed by anyone other than Paul.

Again I ensured the students who hadn't yet helped another, had more chances to do so while the rest worked on their second kata.

It all worked so easily now that we understood the method and had at least two persons who recognized perfect form handling each class, Paul and I had everybody pair up and spar for the last half hour while we judged them.

Each person achieved white or yellow grade. Five students, three of them teachers, were borderline silver. Everyone thought the results were spectacular. Paul was definitely first level silver already as I had judged him while he sparred with the initiates in the latter kata.

* * *

After eating in the cafeteria, I had a short private session with Paul and the five borderline silvers, teaching them new kata with the most difficult movements to anticipate and defend against.

Of course Paul was the first to perfect them. We sparred for quite a while as he recognized that I was teaching him more in my attacks than had been evident in the original kata.

I drew more out of him than he knew he had. Paul came up with two innovatory moves to defend against some of my own invented ones. When I ordered him to attack me, he was equally clever and twice suckered me in with his unusual feints.

My mouth hurt from grinning so wide, so I stepped back and bowed to him. He bowed too while I and the small class clapped him. Paul looked confused.

I bowed again while the class continued applauding.

"Congratulations, Paul. You are the first person who has ever defeated me. I am very proud of you. And I love your two innovations. They are beautiful and will be major assets to the savate syllabary."

"Savate has a syllabary? Like ballet choreography?

"Of course. It was necessary. As the only person with perfect form who is a master of each of the arts, it had to be my job to begin it. The various kata have been the only way to record them up to now, but nobody else teaches kata for savate.

"Many martial arts moves never made it into a kata and have disappeared completely. So have whole kata that were too long or too difficult. Even filming the moves is an imperfect recording system because the person performing so rarely has perfect form.

"Now, can you repeat each of your new defenses so the others can appreciate them?"

And Paul did, proving he really understood them and they weren't just flukes that had developed out of the sparring and immediately been forgotten. They were also the perfect counters to my original attacks.

"You have a real instinct for martial arts, Paul. I did tell you that you had the potential to be much better than me. You're proving me correct.

"You're currently a second level silver in ability, except that you haven't had the coaching in judging and competition rules, what needs to be known at each level and, the actual judging and teaching practice.

"You also need to choreograph a long sequence of moves like a kata and its reciprocal combination which you should practice with a buddy so you can do them perfectly for the judging. None of that should be a problem for you. It's best to choose someone of similar height and build."

Again Paul helped bring the next person through, also sparring for a long time, testing Violet further as I had him. I loved the way he could see the spirit of what I had tried to show him and use that in a different way with someone else.

Four of the students achieved first level silver, Paul and the youngest woman, Violet, were second level. I asked her to help him with the coaching and took a long swim for a change of pace.

When I returned, refreshed, Paul was word perfect on all the rules and bylaws. He had already designed and taught Violet his choreographed piece using 'opposites' as his theme.

That worked well as Violet, who almost matched him in height, had very dark skin and straight black glossy hair, contrasting with his pale skin and the blond waves of his high ponytail after he released his hair from its customary tight braid.

She wore all white to his all black and they demonstrated the moves beautifully for a perfect score from all five judges. I printed up all the certificates and handed them out in heavy plastic envelopes, including a special pale blue one with cherry print as a commemoration of Paul's defeating me.

* * *

The same afternoon we combined all the karate classes and any interested savate or other students. I taught everyone three short basic Gōjū-ryū kata then three more in Kyokushin and Shotokan karate styles. Paul and I meticulously corrected everyone's form, and shortly the breakthroughs began.

We brought everyone through the Gōjū-ryū and Kyokushin series before breaking for dinner. The whole class sped through the Shotokan kata in under an hour, so I taught more advanced kata in each style and we worked through all those within two hours. We stopped there.

I rang Armando who happily reported that his group had helped 540 people to break through the ten kata I had taught them, but weren't sure where to go next. I said I'd see him tomorrow.

I asked my silvers to pack an overnight bag and accompany us to the big dojo tomorrow with 96 of the other students—all that could fit in our two buses.

Paul and I returned to Fermina's for supper before he left for his lodgings.

* * *

A hundred and forty-three eager students turned out the next morning, four with bus-driving licenses and two with reliable large cars, so we all took off together. I sat in the front of the limo with Paul, as the back was crowded. I requested he put up the privacy screen so we could talk.

"I have to ask you another personal question Paul. This dojo has rather limited accommodation, mostly in pull-out curtained two-decker dormitory bunks with little privacy. Some of the extra guys will have to shake down on convertible sofas; charpoys, futons or hammocks.

"There are also several apartments. I've given up my 3-bedroom place for the male teachers and will take a 2-bedroom one which you can share if you're planning on remaining celibate and avoiding entanglements.

"Nearly every woman in my dojo already has the hots for you. They're all strong, fit and athletic and there're more of them where we're heading.

"If you take a one-bedroom flat, even with a locked door, there's no real way of preventing several or more of the ladies getting at you tonight. So you won't get much sleep and will probably be very jelly-legged tomorrow if you choose that option."

"If I'm so irresistible, what will prevent their knocking on your door all night and keeping us both awake?"

"Me. I may be a small child, but I'm also the boss lady and I've already proven my toughness. You have my leave to go tomcatting if you want, but I need you fit enough to perform in class tomorrow."

"Actually, I like my girls on the modest side. Predatory women frighten me. If they break in on us, I'll jump in bed with you, and let you defend my honor."

I laughed. "That's fine. I'm accustomed to chaperone duties. I'm supposed to keep Fermina from straying before she remarries, and I get rid of her really horrible suitors so she has more time for herself.

Chapter 15

Upgrading the third Dojo

My stuff had already been moved into a smaller apartment with my name on the door. I asked for all the keys to it, gave one to Paul and locked the others in a password-accessed compartment of my computer.

Paul stuck close to me as we had a second breakfast before starting work.

All the partitions had been removed from the second martial arts floor, so even 714 students didn't crowd it. Paul and I taught them all the kata he had already learnt except the last ones, then I did more, covering every savate move.

None of these were difficult, but many weren't easy to get right, so learning them perfectly for life was the best way. I gradually introduced more of the difficult moves, the spins and sidesteps, while the class worked beyond the point of perfection more rapidly with each new exercise.

The silvers were now all so much faster, quite familiar with the perfect form and able to work at speed, but many of the others were catching up to them. I added Paul's two new moves, the feints which had fooled me and all the new ones I had come up with to new kata.

It really appeared that the bigger the class, the faster the students learned everything, and learning by breakthrough gave them all perfect form in every move. The entire class was working at high silver level. Even Janine was at second Silver.

A week ago there had been fewer than a dozen silvers on the double continent, mostly firsts, two seconds, and only Horrie and I at third.

"Class, you now are all up to second level silver or higher. There's nothing more I can teach you in Savate until after I invent some new moves."

There were many smiles at that.

"Most of you still have to learn the various rules and standard requirements for each of the levels, participate in a series of conflicts and learn to referee and judge matches. That is drudge work which your various teachers can handle.

"Then you need to train as teachers yourselves and participate in sparring matches and competitions to develop your own style and condition your reflexes.

"I and several senior staff will be flying down to Buenos Aires shortly to bring this new miracle technique to my first dojo. A few of you who have current passports may be interested in joining us.

"You will have to pay your own way but I can get a good group discount off the airfare and get you billeted with gym members. We'll be staying a week so you'll have a little time for sightseeing too.

"Armando will probably ask you to write up how you feel about what we accomplished today. That is a new tradition he began in his dojo.

"What we have achieved this week has never been done before. It will revolutionize the teaching not only of savate, but of all the other martial arts, maybe even ballet and other dance styles. And you guys will be at the forefront of that.

"Tomorrow, I will be teaching three karate styles in the same intensive way, and we'll see if we can cover the entire lexicon of moves in each genre. I'll see you then." I bowed to the class, received Armando's thanks, signaled to Paul and we departed.

* * *

"There won't be anything new to you in the rest of the class Paul. You've worked so hard and intensely, you probably need a break too.

"I'm going to lift some weights, take a quick shower then sit in the spa and let the bubbles massage away my kinks. We have two segregated saunas if that is more to your taste, or the heated pools, but I cannot guarantee you'll be left alone there."

"I'll stick with you, if you don't mind, Taj. I received forty-seven propositions while correcting and sparring today and I'm feeling quite nervous."

"I'm sorry. That number of overtures amounts to sexual harassment. If I'm not around, stick with Violet. She's happily married, but her sailor husband is away at present.

"Stay here a minute and I'll tell her to spread the word that you don't enjoy the attention. I will ban or fire any woman who tries it on again or attempts to wake us tonight." I stepped back in the class, told Violet and three other women I knew well, then returned.

"Come on, let's pump iron."

The staff knew I was coming and had already loaded the bar with my usual starting weights. Two new body builders looked horrified when they saw what I aimed to lift and started to come over, but were intercepted by the staff and warned away.

They stared in fascinated horror as I pressed more than they could handle and twice asked the spotter for more weights as I warmed up. I could have managed a lot more still, but only needed to stretch out my back. I always get self-conscious when anyone makes a big deal about my weights.

I did the leg press next until my muscles were straining, rode five miles on the exercise bike using the highest resistance setting, and that was enough.

Our flat had two showers, one over the bath and a separate cubicle one which I used. I washed the sweat out of my hair too. I'm not body conscious, and was pleased that Paul also was quite matter-of-fact about nudity as he handed me a towel when I was done.

I did sneak a few peeks to check on his blond chest hair which was sparse and almost invisible. I have a bit of a thing about men's chest hair, perhaps because of the body builders' shaving theirs off. To me a man looks incomplete without any. I had to remind Paul not to deodorize or apply cologne.

We donned our tiniest bathers and fluffy bathrobes and went down to the men's spa to soak among those lovely hard bubbles.

I asked where he'd traveled with his current passport, expecting the Bahamas. Instead Paul had visited Easter Island and the Galapagos group to see the unique wildlife there, and we chatted about that.

I asked if he had other languages. He answered me in almost fluent French, so we used that for the rest of the day. Paul's paternal grandmother was of French stock and his father had used the language with all his kids to whom he had access.

"We'll probably be going to France soon. I want to set up a large gym and dojo there for Emil to run. With the publicity from my magazine stories, we should be able to gather at least a thousand students for another mass breakthrough upgrading."

"So, are you trying for Paris?"

"No, land prices are too high there and I need a lot of floor space. I'm hoping for a large warehouse in a smaller city with a nearby University which teaches diploma courses in martial arts training.

"The students provide good part-time workers and during the holiday season, there would be loads of cheap accommodation available. That would be the ideal time to run our courses.

"I'd charge them five thousand dollars each for tuition and basic accommodation and we'd net at least five million for the weekend."

"Wow, you weren't kidding about the money."

"Well France is the hub of Europe and the home of Savate and the various cane disciplines. I want to show the authorities there my innovations and what I've done so far on the syllabary.

"I've also invited several South American martial arts groups to send representatives to the Buenos Aires courses. I'm interested in seeing how the Brazilian Jiu Jitsu authorities will handle my teaching up to master level when, solely because of my youth, I am legally entitled only to wear the gray belt. I won't be promoted to adult belts until I'm sixteen. Then I go to purple."

"So I'd have to start at white?"

"Yes, everybody does. Officially you should stay white for a year, but I think we can fudge that. By the time we leave here you would be more than sufficiently knowledgeable to go straight to the brown because of being over eighteen.

"After another year you'd go to the black. But then, because of their conservative promotion system, you would need to stay at that level for a minimum of thirty-one years, just gathering extra stripes, like dan levels. And you wouldn't be eligible for the ninth degree red belt until the age of sixty-seven."

Paul snorted. "That's ridiculous!"

"Not really. Very few people learn as fast as you and I do. Brazilian Jiu Jitsu is one martial art that doesn't easily lend itself to breakthroughs. It's all about flooring the other person as soon as possible, grappling, strangling, and using leverage, extreme pain, joint dislocations and nerve pinches to force them into submission quickly.

"Also the teaching is fairly informal. Weaker, smaller, and aged practitioners are encouraged to find different, often nasty, ways of achieving results that are easy for the strong.

"Many of the moves are extremely dangerous in unpracticed hands and can cause dislocations, spinal damage, ripped cartilage, ligaments and tendons, torn muscles, collapsed tracheas and death by strangulation.

"Most students are young men, notoriously hot-headed and hot-blooded, especially the Latinos and mixed races. Understandably, a large degree of emotional stability is required before a reputable teacher will show anyone those techniques.

"Ron used full force both times when I attacked him until he realized that he had broken through, and that realization came quite late. In BJJ, that reaction could easily have caused serious and permanent injury. I think Ron took up martial arts because of being bullied, so when attacked, his natural response was to lash out hard immediately."

"Yes, you're probably right there."

"Did you see much of your Dad while growing up, Paul?"

"Yes, he often arranged to take a bunch of us out for the day. He seemed to be a good man. We kids all loved him."

"Did you notice his making eyes at any woman while he was with you?"

"Nah, he actually seemed to be trying to avoid the ladies. Plenty of them were trying to catch his eye, and several even approached him . . . Oh lord, do you think he had my problem?"

"I think that's likely. The poor man has been unjustly maligned and mistreated when it was the horny women at fault. I bet that sheriff was infertile—he never fathered any other child, did he?"

"No, he didn't."

"Is your Mom a sweet shy type?"

"No, everything but. She's probably the reason I avoid tough aggressive women."

"I wonder if this crazy attraction thing might be caused by a pheromone you're producing—I have read of something similar. Once we've identified it, we should also be able to find a way of covering it or changing its footprint so it no longer has the same effect.

"I'll get my researcher onto it today. She should be able to find your Dad too so we can test him as well."

"That would be a blessing—if we could turn it off. My life's been rather difficult the last two years, since shortly after my twentieth birthday. Yet you'd think such a thing would have started earlier, as soon as I hit puberty."

"It might be a survival mutation thing, cutting in when you're old enough to provide for a harem and a large family. I wonder if some of the old harem masters had the same condition? Solomon was apparently irresistible to women.

"Paul, did any of your half-sisters respond to you too, or were they immune?"

"Insightful observation, Taj. I never thought of that. I used to hang around with several of the older ones who were good friends and they kept other girls away, so they must have been immune."

"Yes, they'd have to be—as a protection against inbreeding. You should have told me earlier when I expressed interest in your half-siblings, I could have hired several of your sisters to look after you.

"If you think any of them would be interested in joining us and going to Buenos Aires, give them a ring and invite them, I should be able to get their passports rushed through. Come on, let's get upstairs so you can call them."

Chapter 16

Paul's Sisters Join

Paul did well, persuading five of his half-sisters to drive out immediately. A sixth came too to take the car back.

Meanwhile Paul was removed to Galen for testing. Fluid and blood samples were taken from everywhere, and it was determined that the particular pheromone was testicular. Apparently other known human pheromones are mostly released through the armpits.

Galen even managed to produce a feasible temporary solution—a light elastic pair of transparent briefs which covered the whole area, as with a second skin and reduced the pheromone dispersal by at least ninety percent—some was still released through the breath and sweat. All that sampling and testing took just three hours.

That same day Maggie arranged passports for the two Evans sisters requiring them.

* * *

I commandeered the two-bedroom flat next door and with the pull-out sofa-beds, we squeezed them in, taking one girl, Lorna, in with us.

Lorna was perfectly happy with the other twin bed in Paul's room. I watched as Paul set up a screen to give her a little more privacy.

"What's your latest score, Paul?" she asked.

"Thirty four hundred and thirty-one," he answered. Then seeing the shock on my face, "That's book covers, Taj.

"I pose for book covers, which are mostly used by self-published authors for eBooks. I have thousands of available photos on my website for them to choose from. I keep a running score and also allow them to post the completed cover there, with a short blurb to advertise their book."

"Yeah, I've seen two vampire books with you on the cover in a booklist, but I didn't know you had a website too."

"Sure do. Jimmy Thomas started the first Romance Novel Cover site, but there're a few of us now. I'm the top vampire model, but I also do Vikings, Science Fictional warriors, Fantasy and Fairy fighters, Polar Bear and Arctic Wolf Weres, Romance, Erotica, Ballet and other genres. The actual studio work is usually boring, but I only need do an occasional shoot and the pics keep generating income forever."

"Does the site maintenance take much work?"

"Only to input new images. The rest is automated. It even banks the takings each day and emails monthly figures to my tax man."

"But wouldn't so much exposure make you very recognizable?"

"Yes, it does. I used to be invited to appear at lots of conventions as a speaker and to give the attendants a chance to be photographed with me, but I've had to cut that back to daily drop-ins. I can't stay at the convention hotels anymore."

* * *

The Evans girls were all remarkably attractive and intelligent, and almost as quick at picking up perfect form as Paul. They also had an unusual sweetness about them, and while not shy, were way more modest than the girls who had approached Paul.

The male students showed great interest in them, but it was never overwhelming. Apparently the girls were quite accustomed to masculine attention, especially when they went out as a group. They played the field easily but without injuring anyone's feelings.

I watched them with as much interest as the guys did, but only to try to learn their techniques. They made great role models.

* * *

Next morning, after a warm-up calisthenics session, I taught the class how to fall without causing injury, then proceeded to the many throws used in the three karate styles. After they had each practiced throwing and being thrown, I had the students form two concentric circles, asking tall persons to intersperse with short ones and heavy ones with lightweights.

The inner circle members moved clockwise and threw five outers. After that the outer circle people went anticlockwise and threw five inners. This way everyone became used to throwing a wide variety of body builds.

Most of the students were surprised that the heavies were much easier to throw than the long lanky types. Not only was their center of gravity often very difficult to determine, but those long legs and big feet seemed glued to the floor.

As the shortest person, I demonstrated my various techniques for throwing very tall guys.

"Usually a kick, shoulder or head butt into the abdomen to double him over, and a push or hooked kick on the back of his legs will bring the man down. Follow this quickly with an arm lock to immobilize him.

"But you will all need to learn how little force to apply in a competition so as not to damage your opponent. In a street attack, you'll probably want him hurt.

"If the legs are straddled, any low blow to the genitals will bring a man down and put him out of commission for a while. Of course this is illegal in competition, but is often the easiest thing to do when attacked.

"Even a feint to the genitals will often cause him to bend over protectively, then a punch to the jaw or a hook kick behind a knee will bring him to the floor.

"But you need to be careful he doesn't fall on top of you and bring you down with him." I demonstrated on my obliging partner.

"The various hard jabs to nerve nexûs on hands, elbows, shoulder and neck will easily crumple him with little exertion on your part, but again, you need to learn the amount of pressure that will work in competition, and the little you need to get just a minimal effect in practice."

I had them all jab each other in the Valium spot at the base of the thumb and forefinger join, then showed them a few of the less dangerous nexûs with which they could control an assailant.

"Learning to throw and be thrown safely is an essential part of most martial arts. Sadly these activities are not conducive to breakthroughs. You have to master them the hard slow way through a lot of practice. We'll be doing plenty of that this week."

* * *

After brunch we returned to doing kata. Paul's sisters were all in the first ten to achieve perfect form and corrected other people's stances as if they had been doing this for years. Paul slipped in one of the previous kata as soon as they had helped two other persons to cross over in the general kata. Within a short time they each required only two to four repetitions to perfect any one.

The guys working the new kata stepped in regularly to attack the girls, a few marking them deliberately. But these girls were tough and self-composed. They didn't cry or hug their assailants after their achievement. Not that this discouraged any of the interested fellows.

With Paul's help on the side, his sisters soon caught up with the rest of the class, and from then on were up with the leaders. I noticed that they too gravitated to attacking the guys who had helped them find success.

So Don Evans' daughters weren't as tough as they pretended to be. The guys who had given them their first breakthrough joy had scored major points in the mating game.

* * *

For the next week we continued giving four long classes a day, starting at 5.00 AM, 10.00 AM, 2.00 PM and 7.00 PM. I supervised each session; Paul and his sisters were usually at three each.

Over two thousand newbies joined the intensive classes, always beginning with Savate kata, learning to fall safely and throw and be thrown, then progressing to the various karate and other martial arts kata before learning the judo and BJJ throws. Only a few of the less dangerous nerve pinches and pressure points were taught.

Discipline was maintained at all times. It was important to instil respect for their teachers and the bodies of other students who partnered them in the exercises. We were not teaching our students how to beat up others, but giving them the wherewithal to handle any bad situation with confidence.

A wonderful bonus of having acquired perfect form in the strikes, kicks and fighting movements of the various disciplines was that the throws quickly became as easy as if perfect form had been achieved here too.

Chapter 17

Empowering Battered Women

Over fifty, tired-looking ladies from a local women's refuge joined the class on the third day. One of their officials had rung to ask if they could have a reduced price gym membership and whether we could provide extra security at the crèche so none of the abusive husbands could access the children. It was tax-deductible so I took them on gratis.

We had only three fathers with children being cared for in our crèche, all well known to the staff, so any other men would be obvious. I ordered the stairwell doors locked on that floor so nobody could sneak in that way. Two silver-gloved, black belt females were stationed at a desk near the lift to vet any arrivals.

We couldn't prevent the fathers joining as members as we had no way to distinguish abusers, but any new male asking about crèche facilities was videoed and his tape shown to the battered women. We caught two guys that first morning. They were watched until the police came to arrest them for violating restraining orders.

Another had the nerve to walk into our class after lunch. His terrified wife immediately ducked to the floor behind a larger man and several students closed in protectively around her. He noticed and headed towards her.

I stepped in front of him. "Sorry, sir, but you cannot join the class at this late stage. You will need to book into the next one starting."

"Out of my way, kid. I came to get what's mine." And he reached out his left hand to swat me away.

Within two seconds I had him floored and twisted like a pretzel with his left elbow dislocated. He roared his pain.

"So who's a sooky baby then? Like to dish it out to women and children, but can't take a little pain yourself, eh?" Everyone laughed, including the battered women, quite animated at seeing a known abuser get some back.

The class continued working, around him as he sat whimpering, until the police arrived. I then had to unlock his dislocated arm which caused another bellow.

"You're awfully noisy, aren't you? I'm afraid that elbow will probably pop out easily from now on. I'm going to teach your wife how to do that every time you come near her again."

I then released the nerve pinch to untwist the other arm so he could be handcuffed securely. He glared his hatred at me as I loosened one of his legs. He yelled again when he was hit with vicious pins and needles as the circulation was restored.

"Heavens, it's only pins and needles. You're not going through labor. Buck up and act like a man. I bet each of your children makes less fuss than you do.

"Please don't try anything when I release your other leg, or I might be forced to break it. I'd probably enjoy that, but you won't." I gave him the vicious smile I usually reserve for pedophiles.

The cops were impressed. Six of them joined my next class and more came later.

The battered women really took heart after seeing one of the abusive men handled so easily by a small bossy child. It was wonderful to see the ladies regain confidence and self-esteem as they made breakthroughs and could see how much they had accomplished in just one long lesson.

I really liked that each of them checked on her children at every break. It was usually fear for their kids that gave these women the courage to leave their abusers. If they could all learn that they had no need to fear the men further, they and their children could get a fresh start elsewhere.

Paul and I visited the center after dinner and talked about their problems with some of the staff there. I was told that the most urgent need was safe cheap accommodation and childcare so the women could leave their children while searching for a job and working.

* * *

Back in our flat, I asked Maggie to find suitable space near Armando's dojo to build basic residential units where single women could live safely with their kids and where I could house overflow guests doing my intensive courses.

Maggie immediately located three suitable sites, but each allowed only three levels of apartments with garaging beneath. I'd need to build on all three to get enough space for what I envisioned, and providing security would be prohibitively expensive.

Maggie suggested an alternative plan:

^^Taj, you could add six or more floors to your dojo with apartments which could be used as emergency accommodation for battered women as they do your courses. Allow Galen to run the crèche and cafeteria, and that will give you our doorway security which will keep out violent men.?? ^^

"I was hoping to train most of the women as crèche attendants, servers in the cafeteria and as cleaners to give them part-time work while they studied for something better. Your idea removes most of those jobs.

"Also, how is it possible to add so much to a structure already under construction without weakening it to unsafe levels?"

^^I'm afraid I haven't been completely open with you, Taj. Your current building was erected by Galen, and like our towers, each goes up overnight with as few observers as possible.

^^The new dojo hasn't yet been started, so changing the plan is no big deal. Even adding half a dozen or more floors to an established Galen building is a simple matter. Yet our building material Galenite is the strongest on the planet and our buildings the safest.^^

"You mean, I could add six new floors to this building at any time?"

^^Of course, but then you would probably also need another two floors of underground car park and a basement storage area under that. Also it would be useful to have a shopping area on the ground floor with a bank and Galen shop and garage to get your fuel.^^

"I might do that some time, as I've been feeling squeezed for space recently. But right now the other dojo is a priority."

^^If you agree to raise the height of that building, Galen can build a tower shelter for women and children on the closest block to yours, which would be right across the street.

^^There, we'll provide doorway security, crèche and schooling as well as counseling, and they can still do the menial work at your dojo. We'll build in a secure underground access between the buildings so none of them even needs to appear on the street outside.

^^Galen already owns Armando's cumbersome mansion and the huge block of land it sits on. We can put one of our usual towers there to take more women. You'll find that once the ladies realize the many advantages Galen offers them in retraining and security, they'll all join up. Children always thrive at Galen too.

^^We can put up all three buildings tonight so the new dojo will be ready for immediate occupancy.^^

"Darn. The bust isn't finished. I wanted it for the opening ceremony. Armando would want to be there too."

"That plaster carving you've been working on?"

"Yes, Paul. It's a likeness of my sensei. I don't have any photos of him, though I have seen earlier shots, so thought I'd have it cast in bronze and set on a plinth in a niche outside the registration area. He was one of Armando's early teachers too. I wanted to dedicate the building to him and call it Prospero's."

^^Is the carving done, Taj?^^

"Yes, Maggie, but I haven't found anyone to do the sand casting yet. The local college isn't very good at anything artistic."

^^I could handle that for you. We would take a flexible silicon mold which won't damage the plaster at all. Then remove the mold, turn the silicon into galenite, swirl in the molten bronze in layers, building it up until it's about an inch thick and attach a crossbar with a thick threaded base bar which would screw into a threaded socket in the top of the plinth. How high do you want the plinth?^^

"Tall enough so he would be normal height. The man was five foot eight when younger. He's shrunken about an inch and a quarter since."

^^Okay. I'd suggest a simple scalloped cross-section column, slightly fluted, with square base and top about an inch wider all around than the bust, also in bronze, but a lighter, redder shade, with the bust more taupe, something like this . . . ^^ She showed a picture on the laptop.

"That looks fine, Maggie. How long will it take?"

^^Already half done. I took the liberty of coating the original plaster carving in galenite colored a dull pewter shade and set it on a wood block. Go, have a look.^^

* * *

We traipsed into my room. My simple white plaster carving looked so much more elegant and sophisticated in pewter, the shadows more interesting. Horrie's fierce indomitable spirit was there, and his love for me. I had used his earlier pics to extrapolate what he would have looked like at sixty without the brain damage. It had turned out well.

"Maggie, that is absolutely superb. Thank you."

^^All I did was coat it. I believe it was worth preserving. The sculptor is the one who made it a work of art. I can tell that you really loved that old man.^^

"Yes, I do. I hope he gets a chance to see it one day."

Paul had sat down on the edge of the bed, just staring at the bust. He opened his arms and I automatically stepped in and was lifted onto his knee for a hug.

"Which art school did you go to Taj?"

"I've never studied art, but I enjoyed making that so much, that I might take some courses later. It's quite easy to carve in plaster. The hard part is mixing the plaster fine enough so you don't get any air bubbles."

"I'd think the difficulty would be in making the man look real. You didn't even have a photo as a memory aid."

"I knew him well and had studied his face and expressions. He'd been tortured with electric shocks which destroyed a lot of his brain, so sometimes he just looked helpless, sad and vacant. I wanted to catch the love, tenderness, honor and strength. I have an eidetic memory, so that helps too."

"You've done a great job, Sweetheart. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks."

^^Ahem, excuse me for butting into this private moment, but we haven't finished our business yet.^^

"Sorry, Maggie. We were admiring the way you finished my carving.

^^Taj, ask me for the plaster next time you want to carve. I can mix it in vacuum and preshape it roughly. Guaranteed, no bubbles.

* * *

^^I'll make you another offer. If you raise this building also tonight, add a second Galen-run crèche, cafeteria and various Galen-run restaurants, cafés and other eateries, bank and garage I'll install the doorway security here too. You can then offer the women in your courses completely safe accommodation here where they could stay and probably work too.

^^You'll need maids and more cleaners for the extra floors and they can also work in the shops, cafeteria and eateries. Our food is not cooked on the premises but all comes from Galen, already dished up and just needs to be ordered, served and paid for. Your ladies can do that as well as anyone.^^

"Maggie, why are you trying to rush me into a decision without giving me time to think?"

^^Because the battered women's shelter is a first-rate innovative idea for attracting more good people to Galen, but it won't work without your martial arts courses. And we cannot put up a single tower near your dojo because of the zoning limits, whereas we are allowed to put up two or more towers in the area.^^

"You could build two women's towers of your own."

^^No, that wouldn't attract the ladies. It would be more likely to scare them off. They'd see it as moving into some government-type institution. Whereas, if they start off living and working in your dojo, they'll see the best aspects of Galen—the food, and how our system benefits their children—and they'll join voluntarily, leaving vacancies for more women.^^

"And just how much will all this extending and renovating cost me?"

^^I'll do it for free because you'll be doing Galen a great service which we cannot get without your help.^^

"Okay then, make both of the buildings as tall as you like. I'm sure we'll find some use for all the extra space. The students will be glad to move out of those crowded dormitories. We'll have to order new furniture, bedding and laundry equipment. The laundry is another job the women could easily handle."

^^No, you won't need any furnishings, Taj. I've already included them and the renovations are complete. We'll put up the other buildings later tonight.^^

"I didn't feel anything happen. Anyway, it's still only evening." I added absurdly, completely disoriented.

Paul walked to the window and pulled back the curtain. We now had French windows and a new enclosed balcony outside with large planters full of thriving plants. Hopefully some of the women would have green thumbs enough to care for them. I sure didn't. We were definitely much higher up than before.

I felt gob smacked. Maggie and her Galen magic were just too overwhelming at times.

She had been looking out for me since issuing my first ID. I couldn't figure out if she saw her role as guardian angel or fairy godmother, but I was sure she loved me. And everything she did for me had proved to my benefit in the end.

^^Taj, you could send Armando and the other teachers back tomorrow with Paul to set things up. Paul will be safe there for a few days. He has other sisters in the area.^^

"No, I definitely want to go back tomorrow to see my new building and show Armando the bust, but we've got classes booked here too."

^^Taj, you've trained enough silvers to handle these classes. The three you brought from the small dojo are experienced teachers. Put each of them with an Evans girl and several of the top silvers and let them all learn on the job.^^

"What do you think, Paul? Want a day off from martial arts to drive people back? You could see your family again and grab a sister or two to accompany you around the place. There'll be plenty of jobs available at the dojo which may interest them."

"Sure, Taj, the change will be fine. I have a bus-driving license too. It might be easier to take one of the buses there and back. There might be other people interested in returning or moving there to help do the interviews and start classes."

"Good thinking, Paul. I don't know much about your town.

"Maggie could you work up a questionnaire for new members to fill out at Registration, stating what particular services they are interested in having, what classes they want, and what times they want them. Also what skills they can offer us. We could have three or four six-hour shifts running if there is a demand for longer opening hours.

"And could you also make a list of available jobs there for both skilled and untrained persons. We'll post those tomorrow and start vetting applicants."

"We'd better call a staff meeting with Armando's people and mine and sort everything out. There's also another class to start. We can announce the new facilities here to the ladies and invite them to move in.

"Maggie, is the Galen crèche running yet? And do you have floor plans I can see?"

* * *

Things were a little chaotic for a while, but soon it was sorted out. Maggie had left three entire floors of small apartments with tiered bunk beds for small fry. Apparently all the children at the shelter were under nine and averaged four per lady. No wonder the mothers had all looked so exhausted.

Most would have married in high school because of an unplanned pregnancy. Products of a capitalist society, without skills, they found living on a small wage difficult.

They argued and fought, made up in bed and soon were pregnant again. Formula was expensive, hospital bills terrifying. The luckier ones remembered what breasts were made for and accepted Welfare.

The young men saw their youth and dreams disappearing with no prospects of improvement in the future. They took out their frustration on the person they blamed for landing them in this hopeless mess.

It was a huge problem that Western society couldn't handle. I hoped Maggie's scheme would give the women a new start. But who would help those guys?

Twelve other floors of small apartments were also available for students and women. These had a queen and two single beds.

I had a beautiful new 4-bedroom apartment, above the office floor. This seemed like a luxurious double suite, for me and my executive assistants. There were three other very nice apartments on the same level; the rest were smaller. The previous apartments and dormitory floors were sandwiched beneath.

Chapter 18

Opening the Fourth Dojo

Janine had a bus-driving license and wanted to take the other bus over. She also had an articulated vehicle license, probably because of her strong competitive streak. She had decided having first pick of the best jobs would be more advantageous than getting a free holiday.

She said Ron had already trained his replacement at the pharmacy in the shop's system, and was eager to start his new career with me. He also had a bus-driving license, so could drive the bus back.

I ordered six more of the 60-seater coaches in white with a metallic gold horizontal stripe and my logo centered each side, the seats upholstered in cherry red. Armando had never had buses, so we would have four at each large dojo plus the two at the small one.

Despite our having had a very early breakfast at oh dark thirty, so we could set out before dawn, the Galen cafeteria provided each coach several hampers of nourishing food and drink for the trip.

It was only as we drove away that I saw that my building was at least three times taller than it had been. And there were more levels below ground too! I'd check into that when we returned.

* * *

The three new towers were visible from a great distance. Mine was flying long pennants: black, cherry, gold and bronze, fluttering wildly in a strong breeze, the metallics reflecting and flashing scintillations of sunlight. Paul drove past the façade to the car park entrance around the corner and parked in the reserved coach area near the lifts.

The façade had looked lovely with a huge copy of my logo shield, at least eight feet high and twelve wide, centered above the double glass doors, about a third of the way up and 'Prospero's' in a golden-bronze casual italic script, arcing over that. There had been a stream of people walking in as we drove past, though the building across the road had been silent and closed.

Ron was at the coach door before we had alighted and quickly filled me in. Maggie had contacted him and made him responsible for Public Relations. There was press waiting in the foyer.

Apparently Maggie had advertised our services heavily worldwide. She touted us as having full security, the best childcare in the world, martial arts expertise and real help in finding and training for jobs. She had announced that women and families in need of protection could access our building through any Galen facility. More than a hundred single-parent families had already moved in, with more arriving all the time in a quiet reception area upstairs.

Galen cut across national boundaries so easily, but we'd be in trouble with immigration if she hadn't obtained legal visas for all these people.

Most of these women were already working three-hour shifts at various jobs. Short shifts best suited nursing mothers, also allowing them to try more than one type of work at a time and fit in defense classes.

* * *

I decided to go back out onto the sidewalk and walk into the main entrance like everybody else. The guys protected me from being mobbed by the press who were at their usual obnoxious worst. I ignored all questions, pulling Armando along by the hand. I led him to the curtained alcove, defended against snoopers by two stalwart guards. One handed me the draw rope.

"Armando and I started this joint venture after we discovered that we had both had the same sensei, the martial arts teacher and champion, Master Prospero. He was one of Armando's earliest teachers, and mine, raising me also to a master of the martial arts.

"Earlier in the week I taught self-defense to a few women from a refuge, and was impressed by how rapidly those damaged ladies recovered their self-esteem and confidence. Now we're going to do that on a larger scale. So today I am dedicating this dojo to Master Prospero, the strongest and kindest man I have known. He would be proud to be associated with this cause."

I pulled the cord and the curtain slid back smoothly. Armando and I both bowed to the bust.

"He's shorter than I remember." Armando's eyes were in danger of overflowing.

"That's because you were a young boy and he had such a powerful personality that he appeared more imposing."

The questions came from all directions as paparazzi flash bulbs popped:

"Where's your mother?"

"Comfortably at home watching this on the TV."

"This is your fourth dojo. How many more are you planning on?"

"While I was in Buenos Aires I ordered twelve castings of my logo which is set above the inner doors into my dojos. We'll see what happens after I've used all those."

"Is it true that you beat up one of the husbands?"

"No, he interrupted a class and raised a hand to me threateningly. I threw him to the padded floor. In the process I dislocated his elbow and made a pretzel of him."

"How do you make a human pretzel?"

"You simply use nerve pinches and dislocations to lock all his limbs so he cannot move."

"Sounds painful."

I gave my evil grin. "It feels even worse."

"Doesn't a person need to be very strong to fight off an attacker? We know you're strong and very fast, but how about these women? After being abused for so long, wouldn't their first reaction be to cower away?"

"No, the way I teach inputs the kata moves into their body's memory. If someone approaches them threateningly, their body immediately produces the correct moves to fend off that threat. They react instantaneously before they've had time to think.

"In fact, when I was teaching Ron here, I attacked him with a very realistic paper dagger. He kicked it out of my hand and threw me across the room with full force before his mind realized the attack wasn't real."

"That must have hurt!"

"Nah, the floor's padded with mats."

Paul volunteered: "A fifteen-year-old schoolgirl at our previous dojo was attacked by three muggers with knives while going home from her first day of Savate lessons. She put all three in hospital and came out without a scratch. They're still in jail, all wearing casts, one also with his jaw wired. They've been identified by two other women they had attacked and raped and are awaiting trial,"

"Is your teaching method really so effective?"

"Yes. You won't believe it until you try a lesson yourself. I'll be starting a class shortly. You have time to buy yourself exercise gear and savate shoes. Bring the camera crew. Just don't tape the other students unless they give you permission."

"That statuette is really good. The old guy looks alive. Who was the artist?"

Paul answered: "Taj carved it herself, then it was molded in bronze."

"So you're calling yourself Taj now?"

"That has always been my registered fighting name. I use it everywhere except in Buenos Aires."

"My cousin has been studying karate for two years and he's still not very good. He gets bullied regularly and can't fight off anyone."

Ron answered: "I used to be bullied too and did savate here for over a year. I tried really hard but couldn't get the moves right. I was absolutely hopeless. Then Taj came to class a fortnight back and showed me how to move correctly, and immediately, in that lesson, I could. Now I'm an expert.

"Taj has perfect form. She understands what a person is doing wrong and shows them how to fix it so they get perfect form too. Perfect form is the whole secret. Taj teaches everyone to achieve it and recognize it in others. Her way reduces the learning time by many years."

The TV crew left to buy workout clothes. The others weren't invited to the class so left to cover more interesting stories.

* * *

Our bags had been taken up to my reserved apartment. Rosa took charge of Armando. Paul and I decided to have a look around my latest acquisition.

There was a green grocer's with the most beautiful fresh fruit and vegetables, most of which I didn't even recognize. The produce absolutely radiated healthfulness. An ice-cream bar had the widest selection of mostly fruit-based flavors. Plus there were juice, shake, milkshake and sorbet bars. A bakery, a florist's with the loveliest fresh flowers, again, mostly strange to me, several cafés and many ethnic restaurants.

There were stalls selling original handmade jewelry with the cheaper gemstones as well as the pricier ones, set in gold and silver, as well as galenite coated base metals which would never tarnish. Those actually looked tougher, more macho, and suitable for guys.

I bought several beautifully wrought gold chains for Fermina and a swirled sunburst yellow gold brooch set with rays of pavé diamonds with matching earrings. I had only seen her wear plain gold jewelry, but these were beautiful and not ostentatious.

Several shops sold handicrafts and the materials to make them. Natural, cruelty-free wools and blends in beautiful colors which even tempted me. I bought enough to knit a soft, double-thickness lap rug for Fermina. The shop owner was fascinated by my description of what I planned and asked that I write up a pattern so other ladies could try the design.

And everywhere there were battered and bruised women working with pride. Several sported bandages or slings. All looked fierce and in control of their lives. They'd already had their first Savate lesson.

Maggie had designed employee uniforms. Most wore black slacks with white dress shirts and bronze sleeveless jackets in various lengths and styles to flatter their bodies. Large name-tags were clipped to their breast pockets.

A few wore plain, round- or V-necked, A-line pinafore dresses in black or bronze, with long-sleeved white shirts underneath, or scarves tucked into the neck or otherwise tied. The obvious Muslim women wore white head scarves, with trousers under their long-sleeved dresses.

Paul and I chose an Italian restaurant, ate a fresh salad, great heap of seafood pasta and vegetables, vegie juice and cappuccinos, then took our purchases to the flat to shower and change. This apartment was even more luxurious than the previous, evidently designed to impress visitors.

* * *

The tele-reporter, Cathy was decked out in vivid workout leggings and black hi-cut leotard. Two of her crew wore muscle pants and tiny singlets. Paul and I stuck to tight cherry t-shirts with our usual black bottoms. The other men assisting wore black bike or muscle pants and bronze singlets with their names emblazoned in gold-outlined black, front and back. Paul and I had our names on the backs only.

Over eleven hundred students were present. I asked everyone who did not wish to be filmed to please move away from the TV people who were all grouped on one side. There was more movement to that side than away from it. My assistants spread out in front of the group, some turned sideways, others with their backs to the students, though the mirrored wall showed their reflections in reverse.

I stood on a dais and demonstrated the first two kata slowly as the assistants and class followed. When those were understood, we moved among the class correcting stance.

The first breakthrough was a man in front of Ron, who immediately attacked him, raising gasps from near observers. By this time Ron understood that the first persons across the barrier may be confused and fight back viciously, so he was cautious, being sure to touch, not strike until the fellow twigged to what he'd done.

This guy was an oddball. As soon as he realized what he had achieved, he did a kind of circular Injun-type war dance, whooping and batting his mouth. This may have been intended to show his pleasure, but confused most of the class.

Fortunately a woman was the next to crack it. Paul handled her more gently and soon had her smiling.

Cathy was the third person to get there. Naomi sparred with her a while to demonstrate to her that she now had the skills and her body knew how to use them. Cathy was ecstatic, jumping up and down with joy, though some of that may have been put on for the camera, as, I belatedly realized, had the war dance.

I now gave my little speech and asked that the three persons who had crossed the barrier, join the staff in correcting stance in those still trying. They should also watch for anyone else who had developed perfect form and initiate them as they themselves had been, by sparring to show the newbie what they had accomplished.

Breakthroughs came continuously, thick and fast after that. The class conquered eight kata by the next break. Each of them learned to recognize perfect form in other students and helped get at least four of them over. All were overjoyed and proud of their achievement.

Cathy's grin almost split her face as she and her offsiders came to thank me.

"You were sure right Taj. I would never have believed such a thing possible until I did it. I've always been a klutz at anything sporty, but that seemed really simple. Thanks for the free lesson. I'll be back soon to finish the course."

"I'll be glad to see you here Cathy. You're a natural and would probably be a very good martial arts teacher. You should be able to teach your cousin what you know now, and help him feel as good as you do."

* * *

We stayed two days, checking that everything was running well. In that time over four thousand women had joined the course and had moved in with their kids. Two more crèche levels had opened. I didn't think there'd be enough jobs for so many, but working only 3-hour shifts and everything being open around the clock, allowed those who wanted it, to work two or three different types of jobs during the week and pick up new skills and knowledge.

Janine, who had kept all her qualifications up to date, put strong swimmers through life-saving courses to qualify as lifeguards and taught others how to teach swimming to various age groups. Her daughters taught swimercise variations and aerobics, as well as helping with the martial arts.

Some women had dance skills which they improved upon in other classes, then used those skills to teach dancercise to adults or basics to children. We had two lovely ladies who knew Balinese temple dancing and their classes were much in demand. Belly dancing in several styles also proved very popular.

I was interested too, seeing immediately that both styles could easily be arranged into kata. I'd do that sometime soon.

Several women had accounting skills and worked out short courses to teach others how to budget and organize their finances. Some taught classes in handicrafts. The products they made were quality graded and sold in the stalls. One woman worked leather to make original belts, headbands and bookmarks.

These modern women found astonishing resources in themselves, often picked up in childhood from aged relatives. Their self-confidence and strength grew and blossomed into new achievements.

I could see now why Maggie wanted these women for Galen—they were driven to succeed and had only needed a little initial help.

Two of the belly dancers decided to move to the other dojo which had no teachers of that art. Several others also decided to go with us.

The staff had all agreed that the self-defense courses would teach only savate to the highest level, the three most popular karate styles to black belt sixth dan, and a little judo and jiujutsu with the less dangerous disabling techniques. Anything more advanced would be arranged later when there was an established demand for it.

The wonderful food sold itself and we received only compliments on the crèche and its rapid learning and developmental effects on the children. The women with school age kids all agreed to move across the road where proper grade and high school classes and accredited adult courses were available.

As Maggie had predicted, dozens of women had already left to join Galen where they had further opportunities for self-growth. And we had more vacant jobs for the new influx.

Galen covered all the uniform, crèche and schooling expenses. The women earned sufficient to pay for everything else they needed. All I really had to provide was accommodation, and as I had been given so much of the building for free, it would have been crass to complain.

I was quite surprised that I even made a small profit on the women, but the satisfaction of knowing that my idea had made such a huge difference in their lives was priceless.

Armando and Rosa also were very pleased with the arrangement. Rosa was fascinated by the Galen crèches and had signed on for a training course with them. I was fairly certain that she was also feeling clucky and would be having a child of her own as soon as she could.

It would give me an excuse to knit small lacy garments. I had almost finished the lap rug, so bought a supply of fine lace-weight Shetland wool and very fine circular needles for a baby shawl and other yarn for a layette.

* * *

Both buses were filled for the trip back.

Returning was somewhat of an anticlimax as little had changed during my absence. Paul, Ron and I looked over the entire building.

Maggie had put in flexible walking or running tracks inside the outer walls on four levels. These had large planters full of greenery, like those on the apartment balconies. They looked like an imitation of the Galen tree walks, but that only made them more popular. The occasional benches were soothing places to sit and read or just watch the weather while also offering lovers some privacy.

Two new skateboarding or rollerblade circuits had also been constructed, looping into closed-off hallways in floors above and below for extra thrills. I taught the guys to rollerblade and we had a lot of fun up there. More lifts had been installed to handle the multitude and make up for the stairs being crowded with exercise enthusiasts who found them more interesting than the Stairmasters.

Maggie kept an eye on anyone who left the stairs and went wandering where they had no business, sending staff to herd them back.

There were now four immense heated swimming pools, more saunas and spa pools. Two new gyms had been added. There were a few new kinds of exercise machines I hadn't seen before, as well as more of the usual sort. New dance classes had started or moved in from previous premises. Everything was more spacious, despite the increased clientele, while still being business as usual.

Chapter 19

Planning Ahead

As they became available I had previously bought up properties either side of and behind both the Buenos Aires gym and the local US one which held my first two dojos. When I approached the Buenos Aires gym owner about enlarging the building, he'd been uninterested. He was thinking of selling it and opening a beach resort, so I had bought him out months ago.

Tickets to my planned course had been selling faster than I had expected, so building a really huge martial arts area was imperative. Argentina also had a battered women problem I could help with. Maggie had already made all her plans and obtained permissions, ready to erect the new building just days before it was needed.

* * *

My staff was doing so well at handling classes, I let them continue, with other advanced students helping out.

With Armando, my small group of Evans offspring—including two more of Paul's sisters—and my top teachers, I concentrated my efforts on analyzing BJJ to get as much of its moves as possible into kata.

In the process, as I had done when sorting Savate, I came up with many innovative new moves and discovered other, less dangerous but painfully effective restraints which could be applied to many martial arts and taught to lower levels.

Privately, I taught Paul and Armando all the dangerous BJJ holds and restraints so they could use them on me. That was the only way that I could work out methods of evading them completely or getting out of them again once restrained, usually with advanced yoga techniques.

* * *

Armando seemed nonplussed by yoga at first, but soon became enthused by it. Paul was fascinated by what yoga, could accomplish, as Horrie had been when I taught him some. It has always surprised me how few martial artists know yoga, which expands one's possibilities so enormously.

Together we worked out more new restraints and ways of evading and getting out of them. Being tall guys their approach was different to mine, and that was educational.

I brought both men up to master level on BJJ expertise, confident that each of us could defeat any current BJJ master without needing to resort to the permitted, but still barbaric, eye-gouging and biting. Paul and Armando both looked more professional wearing their black belts than I in my gray.

Finally we were ready and booked a plane to fly our large party to Buenos Aires.

* * *

Maggie had just put up another huge tower there, with the largest floor area of any of my dojos. We had all the usual features, plus the facilities for battered women. Three crèche and cafeteria levels, with room for more as needed, shops, bank and restaurants There were two nearby Galen towers, including another across the road, which again was joined by a private walkway.

Chapter 20

Buenos Aires Dojo

The Galen people were already in, manning their posts. After Maggie's regional advertising, thirteen hundred battered ladies had moved in with their children and were working at various jobs. These women as yet had taken no martial arts classes, so still looked cowed, frightened and ready to run at any loud noise. But there was a defiance there too. They had been brave enough to flee their persecutors.

We set up and ran Savate classes the whole first day, so every one of them, plus the eight hundred more who joined during the day, had at least the first ten kata down. Their more confident demeanor, pride and self-satisfaction was gratifying to see.

* * *

Over three thousand paying students and a few invited ones arrived the next day and settled in. They had paid $US5, 000 each and had been guaranteed breakthroughs in every kata taught.

Maggie said that she had needed to refund money for three men who were too innately violent to pass our doorway security. Their refusal to accept body chemistry readjustment treatment in Galen cancelled our obligation to them. That proviso had been written in bold type in the agreement contract.

Eighteen other men were borderline and each had been warned that any exhibit of temper or misbehavior would cause them to be 'frozen. A repeat instance would have them removed from the course. No refund would be given in this case.

My teachers and I started the men too on Savate, with the latest group of twelve hundred battered women. As expected, it was soon evident that most of the men had already studied martial arts. What was not expected was that the women would each break through much more easily. That hadn't happened at any other class.

The macho Latin martial artists were not happy to have their posture faults adjusted by women who had never studied the arts before today. Though they did eventually achieve the breakthrough for each kata, it was always after nearly every woman had done so.

Paul noticed and made a point of correcting only the men. With his 5'11" height, pale skin and hair, he stood out among the shorter swarthy Latinos like a white flame, attracting all the light in the room. I found my eyes drawn to him constantly. Paul felt my gaze, looked up and smiled at me often. I smiled back. He was a wonderful asset in every way as well as a truly terrific person. I was so lucky to have found him.

Before we stopped for the next meal break I made a little speech:

"I'm very proud of you ladies for trying so hard to change your lives and being willing to accept direction. You are very fortunate that I and my teachers all have perfect form and immediately correct the smallest imprecise move, so you form no bad habits.

"It is always more difficult for persons who already have some competence in a physical field to make the often minute changes which will push them over the wall. This is because they first need to unlearn previous bad habits that nobody had ever told them were incorrect.

"I am not sure how to make it easier, except to pass on the advice my sensei, Master Prospero, gave me. I was originally taught savate after learning several karate styles and also had a little difficulty.

"I ask that you approach the next session with your minds as empty as possible of all preconceptions. Don't think: 'This is going to be easy because I already know how to box and I'm good at all the karate kicks.' Believe instead that you will be learning totally new moves that are only slightly related to those of other martial arts. That way your ingrained old knowledge won't get in the way of your acquiring new expertise.

"Master Prospero was also South American, so his advice should be relevant to you."

* * *

I habitually ate with my two PAs and several of the sisters. We were all quietly keeping an eye on Ron who was near twenty-one and still not showing any sign of the Evans' curse. Armando had joined us today. We were chatting fairly idly when one of the older students, a man in his sixties, approached and asked if he could speak with me. I waved him to a chair.

"I am Julius. Master Prospero trained me. I have a slight problem believing that he could have trained you too. I have seen photos of the bronze bust that you apparently carved. Prospero would be much older than he appears in the bronze."

"Yes, he's approaching eighty-one. If you knew Horrie well, you would at least have heard about his torture—the electric shock treatments, right?"

Julius nodded.

"Whoever handled that was incompetent and caused a lot of brain damage so they were unable to extract any information from him. Maybe they believed he was just being tough. They raided his home, bayoneted the still sleeping children and attempted to rape his wife.

"One of them filmed the whole sortie. The Americans found the film, put it on videotape and gave copies to Horrie. I watched that tape with him thousands of times when he couldn't sleep.

"Horrie's wife slept naked, which prevented the soldiers from getting a good grip on her. Barehanded, using only her head and limbs, she managed to kill two of them before an officer got behind and beheaded her with his saber. Nobody desecrated her body, either out of respect for her bravery, or more likely because they didn't want to soil their clothes or selves with all the blood.

"Horrie was very proud of her and thankful that all three died quickly without suffering.

"When I was at the US embassy here over a year ago, I was interrogated by a major in charge of security. He kept asking about my involvement with insurgents and rebels and trying to link me to various acts of terrorism during the preceding year. I soon figured he had been working with the terror regime.

"He seemed vaguely familiar, but I thought that was because he was a pedophile. I'd met and studied a few—they all have the same sliminess about them. I put his picture up on YouTube and several people identified him. But by then he had disappeared.

"It was only when I met Armando and saw the certificates Horrie had given him, that I made the connection and realized that major was the one who had killed Horrie's wife long before.

"And I had let him live."

"So that's why you were crying so hard!" exclaimed Armando.

"Yes. I was mad at myself. I should have killed him for Horrie."

"I used artistic license to depict Horrie as he would have looked at around sixty without the brain damage, still strong and imposing. It helped that he'd had several photos with his family, but I also knew Horrie very well and there were still traces of the man he used to be if you cared to look for them.

"I searched them out and was careful to put only those in my carving. I wanted the result to be something anyone who hadn't known Horrie would still respect. If you've seen badly brain-damaged men, you would understand what I had to leave out."

"You must have loved him greatly."

"Yes, I do. He's still alive."

"Do you know how to contact him?"

"I know where he is, but neither of us can reach him there. He does subscribe to Savate magazine. If you put an ad in the personals of that he might see it and may answer the same way. Call him Prospero. I am currently having articles about my dojos and innovative teaching methods published in that magazine so he will know that I'm doing alright."

"I'd like to see that bust one day."

"I carved it from a block of plaster which was coated in pewter-colored galenite to preserve it after the mold was made. I carry it around with me so I can feel that he's still with me. If you come to my room later, you can see it. I think the pewter actually looks better than the bronze."

"I'd like to see that too, please Taj."

"Sure, you can come too, Armando. It's no big deal.

"Armando was also a pupil of Horrie's, as a boy," I explained, "but only for a short while, as his family moved away.

"Julius you'd be old enough to be a master of BJJ now, especially after Horrie's training.

"Yes, I'm a master."

"Good. Horrie trained me to master level. Taught me everything he knows. I've made many innovations since then, which I'd like to have officially accepted into the BJJ lexicon. To prove my worth, I challenge you to a match, and I bet I win easily. I promise to respect your years and not hurt you much."

Julius laughed loudly.

Armando became angry, tight-lipped. He just about spat: "You're laughing at Horrie's training.

"Taj challenged the last three French Savate champions who toured here, two of them in the heaviest divisions. Not one of them was able to lay a finger on her.

"She was kind to them too and didn't hurt them, but she still stung them. The first one, Emil, nicknamed her La Tabanita.

"I've seen only two of the new moves she invented to cope with much bigger opponents, but they are miraculous. Others she has invented and taught at her savate classes will revolutionize savate teaching.

"As BJJ floor grappling was designed to negate the advantages of longer reach and heavier weight, that makes it uniquely advantageous as a sport for Taj, who is as strong as any man. She has just spent a week analyzing and reconfiguring BJJ moves. In that short time Taj has raised both Paul and myself to master standard.

"When you fight her, take Taj very seriously."

Julius looked humbled. "I apologize for laughing, Taj. I should have realized a protégée of Horrie's would know what she was doing. But he broke all the rules in teaching you so much."

"The excessive BJJ time limits were only introduced to prevent hot-headed young men from maiming others. And to keep true expertise in the hands of the founding family and other loyal old men.

"Horrie knew I was not irresponsible, despite my youth. He trusted me not to teach the really dangerous moves to anyone who might use them unwisely. In fact Paul and Armando are the first persons to whom I have taught those moves. I did that only so they could use them on me and I could work out blocks against them and escapes once caught."

"That's not possible. There's no way to get out of one of those locks without help."

"Paul, lock me, please."

Paul stood and did, pretzeling me into an immobile little bundle on the floor.

Okay, Julius, please check me over to make sure he's done it correctly.

Julius did. "Yes, you're definitely locked up tight. That must be very painful. Do you want me to release you?"

"No thanks." I gave an unnecessary tiny shrug and wiggle and stood up free.

Julius stared open-mouthed.

"I now have a counter for every lock used in BJJ. Paul and I have worked out another fourteen restraints and designed escapes for those too. None of ours is dangerous, though most are painful."

Our little exhibit had gathered quite an audience. I ignored them and returned to my food. But I could see that I had created the sensation I had hoped for.

Julius recovered and bowed to me. As I was seated, I merely inclined my head.

"Thank you for the lesson, sensei. I won't underestimate you again. I accept your challenge with pleasure. It will be interesting to see what other moves you have come up with." He bowed again.

I nodded back. "As I've never taught BJJ to a high level here, I expect you will provide the referees as I have no one qualified. Being only a gray belt, I cannot legally promote anyone to a higher level. Please let me know when all the arrangements have been made."

I stood and bowed. Julius bowed and returned to his whispering cronies.

We continued with our meal ignoring the excited conversations around us. I felt so happy I sent love to both my love fountain man and to Horrie. The first returned me a goodly amount; Horrie's mind reflected a little back. He still lived.

* * *

The second and third Savate sessions went better, with more men breaking through earlier, so there was nothing to restrain their delight with their achievements. Our class had nearly doubled by the third period as participants in two earlier beginning sessions joined us.

Now that each of my dojos except the second one, had more than one cafeteria and several restaurants, we designated one public cafeteria as a more formal eating place with a dress up requirement for dinner. Our being open full time had already drawn many people looking for something to eat at odd hours.

As Galen food is the healthiest and best-tasting on the planet, I hoped to attract customers who would normally go to an expensive restaurant. Also it was nice to doll up occasionally after wearing workout clothes all day.

Julius dropped by our table again and asked whether he could bring others of Horrie's pupils and friends to see the bust. I agreed that would be fine.

Thinking it over, I decided it may be important to have evident feminine company as well. Fermina had always considered the appearance of being chaperoned more important than whether the person doing that duty was actually a deterrent to any shenanigans. Lorna asked her sisters to be there too to act as my chaperones and hand around cups of tea.

Chapter 21

Bringing in Emil

Something felt wrong. The back of my neck crawled through the remainder of dinner.

"Paul ask your sisters to change quickly into tight workout gear with savate shoes and canes before coming to my room."

"You're expecting a fight?"

"An assassination attempt, actually, from eighteen amateur assassins. I think this might be fun. We don't have to be careful not to hurt them."

"You actually enjoy fighting?"

"Of course. It's what I've trained to do, and I'm very good at it. Just don't any of you get in my way, please."

"Spoilsport! That's so selfish, keeping the whole eighteen for yourself!" We both laughed and the mood lightened.

Nevertheless, I changed quickly when we returned to the apartment. I stuck the sling in my waistband and placed the pretty polished gemstones in a glass bowl on a small round table with which Maggie had replaced our heavier dining table.

I opened the computer and left it there too, so she could see and photograph evidence we may need.

"Maggie, are they armed in any way?"

^^Two have wooden handgrips wound with piano wire; four have knives. The rest have various heavy objects, coshes, rolls of coins and such. They are definitely ready to hurt you. They are roughnecks, but none has killed before. Julius doesn't have any idea.?^^

"Good. I hoped he'd be innocent."

"How does she know all that?" asked Paul.

"Maggie can read minds and souls. That's how the doorway defense works. People who are violent, psychotic or dangerous cannot enter a building with Galen doorway protection."

"Heavens. I hope she doesn't tell you what everyone is thinking."

"Not unless they are threatening my life. Sadly, we were expecting some such attempt. Three professional killers who signed on for the course were turned away and that gave us warning. They arrived separately and apparently didn't know each other, so may have been hired by three different sources.

"These eighteen were borderline and may yet chicken out. But by coming here en masse, they will strengthen each other's resolve. And remember they know the first twenty-six savate kata and a little karate."

The girls arrived. Ron let them in.

Maggie placed three trays of party nibbles on the table. I began sampling.

"How can you eat at a time like this?"

"Excitement makes me hungry. These dumplings are gorgeous. Try one yourself."

Paul dipped one before eating it. "Mmm. I'll get fat soon if I keep eating like this." He took another.

"Nah, not the way you work it off."

Armando arrived and looked around eagerly.

Ron opened the door again. This time it was Julius and his party.

Armando offered a tray of tapas. Julius took one and popped it into his mouth.

"Taj hasn't brought it out yet. Looks like she wants another unveiling ceremony," Armando grumbled.

"Don't be impatient, Armando. You'll see it soon enough.

"Julius I have the same objections to your companions that you had for me. They don't look old enough to have ever known Prospero before he was damaged."

The guys were all in their twenties. They stood in a group, shuffling uncomfortably. Finally, one stepped forward.

"I'm Len. You're right, sensei. We didn't know him, though we have heard nothing but good about him.

"We were sent here to try to kill you, but none of us really wants to do that. You're a terrific teacher. We've all learnt more from you in one day than we picked up in two years of karate classes.

"Anyway, we can see that you were prepared for us and we're not good enough to beat even two of your people, much less a dozen. We only agreed to come here because none of us could afford the fee and they paid it for us.

"So we're just going to go back and tell them that we never found an opportunity when you weren't well defended."

"Oh, that's a shame. I was looking forward to taking you all on at once. I do enjoy a good fight."

Everybody in the room laughed except Paul and I.

"You probably could have handled us easily too," said Len. "We have a local rep as being very tough, but it has never been tested."

"Okay, now that we're all friends, could we please see the bust, Taj?" Armando was single-minded as well as impatient.

I nodded to Paul who fetched it from my room and placed it on the table, moving the bowl of stones to a sideboard. He passed a replenished tray of goodies to Len.

Lorna brought in a great pot of green tea. Cups in saucers, sweeteners, lemon slices and a pitcher of iced tea, appeared on the sideboard. Lorna placed the pot on a trivet and poured half a dozen cups.

"Sensei, would you care for a cup?" Len asked.

"One of those just poured, please. I like mine weak and straight, thanks."

Lorna passed him one to give me. Then Len turned back to the sideboard just as Lorna filled another cup, bumping her. The lid flew off the pot and boiling hot tea leapt into the air. Maggie immediately 'froze the tea, the pot and the lid in place, then moved them all a foot higher.

Everyone quickly moved away from the immediate area.

"There you are Len. You can now advise your sponsors that, not knowing I was under Galen protection, you tried to brain me with a heavy pot of fresh tea. You almost scalded me instead.

"Grab the pot handle and I'll pose in a suitably vulnerable position under the splatter and your mates can photograph me with their phones.

"Paul, how does this look?"

"Stupid. You need to be lower and Len should look meaner. Allow me to act the great hero coming to my swooning sensei's rescue."

He stood behind me. I 'swooned' back into his arms, my right arm raised protectively under the pot as if to push it away, my knees bent. "How's that everyone?

"Fine, but try to look shocked," said Armando dryly.

The guys snapped their pics.

Paul swept me up for a hug, a look of terror still on his face. He dropped a kiss on my forehead and put me back on my feet.

"Paul, you should be in movies. You acted that well."

"Method. I just imagined losing my meal ticket and dearest friend. It wasn't hard." He spoke lightly, but there was real emotion there too. Paul loved me.

* * *

Armando and Julius were in earnest conversation over the bust. I wandered over and grabbed some more hors d'oevres. I never tired of Galen finger food. The bruschetta with poached quail eggs sprinkled with caviar were new to me.

"You were right, Taj. Pewter does look more interesting than bronze. It softens yet brings out the shadows better."

"Yeah, I also picked up that the shadows looked more interesting, and that was before seeing the bronze. I didn't realize that you were an art aficionado Armando."

"I'm not, there's only some that I like. You do have a gift for it Taj. Horrie looks so vigorous and intelligent. It's hard to believe your model was so damaged."

Julius sighed. "Yes. He looks just as I remember him before he became a master. You even caught that funny cowlick on his crown. I don't suppose you would be interested in selling this? I would love to have it."

"Sorry, no. Maggie, could you make another copy?"

Another appeared on the table immediately.

^^How's this? It's hollow as I left the plaster out. I've put another in your room Armando. You appeared to like it too.^^

Armando bowed to my laptop, speechless for once.

Julius reached out a hand to touch the copy. "It feels the same. How much do you want for it?"

"Maggie made it as a gift. Enjoy it Julius."

"Er, thank you, Maggie. This is most generous. I really appreciate it."

"So Julius, about those referees?"

We actually have enough masters doing your course who can referee."

"So we can have the match here. Which do you prefer—a boxing ring or bare floor? We could have a padded mat to cushion your old bones so I don't have to be too careful about tossing you around." I grinned maliciously.

"Cheeky brat! Though actually the mat's not a bad idea. I don't have the coverage over my joints that I used to have and the hard floor digs in and bruises. But my mates would laugh at me if I did that."

^^Excuse me for butting in, but there's another solution. I could make the floor in the match area softer with some give to it so it would be more comfortable for you.^^

"Why, thank you Maggie. That would be wonderful. You are extraordinarily generous and thoughtful. I don't know what I can do for you in return, but if you ever need a favor, just ask."

^^I might call on you for that later, Julius.^^

"Okay, I presume you'd want our fight early in the day while you're feeling fresh? Before or after breakfast?"

"I'd like a light breakfast to settle my stomach, then a larger one afterwards. Around 6.00 or so?"

"That will be fine. Maggie will tape the whole match."

Armando broke in: "Did she tape your matches with the savate champions too? I really want to see those."

^^Yes I did, from seven different vantage points. You can actually watch the tapes simultaneously on seven screens. Do you want me to set them up, Taj?^^

"Yes please, Maggie. You didn't tell me about taping those. I bet Emil would love to see them too."

^^He's awake. Do you want me to bring him here?^^

"Let me ring first and invite him. Don't want his having a heart attack."

I made the call.

"He said to give him a chance to change clothes."

Within minutes, Emil was hugging me hard, kissing every inch of my face as I tried to kiss his back.

"Good to see you again Tabanita. I have news. I think we've found a site."

"Wonderful. Can you stay a day or two?" I'll be fighting Julius here in a BJJ challenge match tomorrow morning. He's a master and I'll be wearing my gray child's obi."

"Be kind Tabanita. Don't humiliate an old man. Now let's grab some food and watch these tapes. I can't believe you kept them secret so long."

"Not me—Maggie. She only told us a few minutes ago that they existed."

* * *

Maggie had set up an array of six giant screens in a wide curve with another showing the top view placed above. We all made ourselves comfortable on floor chairs, Back Jacks, armchairs, bean bags and cushions so everyone could see. Besides the ceiling view, there was one each from directly behind and in front, and four from each corner.

It was a little disorienting to try to watch so many screens at once. The second and third go-throughs were easier as we each concentrated on one screen and then turned to the one showing the best view of any particular action.

"There, I nearly got you there."

"You're right Emil. That was the closest you came. You only missed by eight inches," I giggled.

Emil turned to Julius. "See what you're in for. The minx laughs at my best effort. And me, the French champion."

Emil then proceeded to tickle me, fairly gently, to keep me laughing.

Maggie brightened the lights and we had more tea and tasty tidbits.

"Taj, you were sensational. I've seen a lot of savate, but there were moves there I would have thought impossible. Can we see the other two matches now?

"Sure Armando. Is everybody sufficiently refreshed?"

The lights dimmed and we sat through the next two bouts three times each. The ten-round matches lasted only a few minutes so it didn't take long.

It was actually rather embarrassing to see myself using my newly invented moves against men who didn't understand how to cope with them, but it had been the only way to attract attention to my innovations.

* * *

Coming from the other side of the world, Emil was on morning time as we were all winding down for bed. Lorna and her sisters offered to take shifts playing host to him and make sure he at least took an 'afternoon nap' so he'd be able to attend class tomorrow.

"Actually, Emil, you'd do better to join the night savate classes for beginners. Those have only half-hour breaks, so you'd still have time for a nap before joining ours. We gained over two thousand new ladies today with more coming in all the time. I like to give them a class as soon as possible.

"You will also have abused women sheltering in the French dojo. I'd like you to see the entire process and witness how rapidly they transform. It's heart-warming.

"Also, though a champion, you've never had a breakthrough. I don't want you to feel embarrassed tomorrow when everyone in class will be ahead of you."

Emil grumbled a little but agreed. He wouldn't have gotten anywhere with the Evans girls anyway.

Chapter 22

Fighting Julius

There was an enormous crowd for our match. Over forty-three thousand people, many invited by our students, as well as general public who had heard of it and of course the press and paparazzi. No TV crews though. They were allowed to record a commentary and later fit it to Maggie's films.

Maggie handled the multitude by amphitheatering the floor, stepping small cushioned ledges around the arena, which the referees had agreed would be best circular. The steps went up through four empty levels whose floors had somehow been temporarily removed or pulled up. The inner two rings were reserved for the referees, other officials and my staff, including Emil.

Julius wore his red and black belt with a closer-fitting white suit with fitted wrists and cuffs which made it more difficult to grab hold of him. I had a loose blue suit with a pale gray belt. We bowed to each other. Another master, wearing black with a red and black belt, read out a bunch of rules.

We bowed again, then I just waited for Julius to approach and allowed him to throw me to the floor where he proceeded to pretzel me as I smiled sweetly at him. I stood free and he did it again, using different locks. I immediately stepped out of those too. Julius was also grinning now, as he demonstrated the futility of all these prized, allegedly excruciatingly painful secret lock systems.

Next I grabbed and threw Julius high above my head. I pretzeled him as he descended into one of our painless locks, caught him again, then just held him aloft as he shook with laughter.

In the audience, Emil was out of control, guffawing so hard and vigorously that he almost fell out of his seat onto Lorna who was trying to hold him in place while also cachinnating uncontrollably. On Emil's other side Paul was doing his best to keep the champion upright while tears of mirth rolled down his face. Armando just rocked back and forth, giving his distinctive huge horselaugh, his face also wet with tears.

Most of the audience, even the other masters, were convulsed with laughter. There were people on their backs in the aisles, thrashing and kicking in their paroxysms. I guess many other people had resented BJJ's slow promotion and the elitism in their upper ranks.

"Sorry Julius, but no matter how hard you laugh, that won't help you escape this lock. I could put you down and leave you, but none of your fellow masters could undo this one for you. Do you submit?"

"Yes Taj, I submit. I'd rather celebrate your victory with a good breakfast than stay here all day. I submit. Put me down please."

I made a few small adjustments, threw him up higher, caught him and stood him gently on his feet. We bowed to each other. Julius threw his arms around me in a great hug and lifted my right arm ceilingward to indicate my victory. He took a backward step, removed his obi and offered it to me. I took off mine, and we swapped.

"Let's get to breakfast before the rush, shall we?" he whispered, and we walked out still barefoot.

* * *

Maggie simply opened four more cafeterias to cope with the breakfast crowd. Paul, Armando and Emil soon joined us at our usual table bringing our retrieved footwear.

"Congratulations, Tabanita. That was well done. I especially like how you reversed the floor grappling and made it aerial instead. I'll write it up for Savate. It will be a change from stories of your innovative savate lessons which have crowded the magazine lately.

"You were right about my needing that beginner's class. I was consistently among the last to break through in each early kata. It was very frustrating. Violet gave the class a little speech you had used about forgetting our preconceptions. Doing that made a big difference and restored my self-confidence."

"I've always admired that about you Emil—that you are big enough to admit where you were inadequate and work to fix it. After you've done my course we might have a rematch. I have already been defeated once, by Paul with two magnificently deceptive feints he invented on the spot."

"Congratulations to both of you. You have to be a brilliant teacher to raise such a new student to where he can defeat you."

"I agree," chipped in Armando. "Taj shares Horrie's inspirational ability that makes students want to do their best for them."

"You're so right." Julius patted Armando's shoulder. I'd forgotten he had that quality. Taj does have it."

"Oh, come on. I think you're both reaching now. Any interested teacher can inspire her students. I have been teaching since very young, so I've had plenty of practice."

"Those new battered women were amazing too," said Emil. "It hurt to see their pain and fear at the beginning of the class, but they changed so quickly.

"I am very proud of you Tabanita, for finding a way to transform so many lives. Are you sure none of their angry husbands can get in here to hurt them again?"

"Very sure. Galen doorway security won't allow any violent persons through. Three professional killers have already been turned away. Those eighteen young toughs you saw last night had their fees paid in the hope that they would have a chance to kill me. Fortunately for them, they decided I was more of an asset than their sponsors."

"Why would anyone want to kill such a clever little girl?"

"Oh that is obvious Emil," said Julius. "There are thousands of less than half-competent martial arts teachers making a good living from dragging out the teaching for many years. My own field, BJJ is the prime example, though our teachers are all much better than those in the MacDojos in the US and elsewhere.

"Taj is teaching Savate up to highest silver gloves level in only two days of intense enlightening lessons, and three varieties of karate to sixth dan black belt on the following day. Her innovative technique and moves will put all the slackers out of business.

"The personal growth you witnessed in the abused women is also happening to all her other students, though more slowly and less obviously. They're discovering amazing new things inside themselves and other people. Everybody she teaches, either personally, or through one of the teachers she trained, is grateful and loves her, even when they don't yet understand what has happened to them."

There was silence at the table as everyone considered those words. I had noticed and enjoyed that all my students loved me, but since babyhood, I've had that effect on people I allowed close. I'd thought it was a normal thing that happened to everyone. Apparently not.

"I think the kata breakthroughs draw people closer, offered Paul. It's an exhilarating intimate experience for each person. Helping someone else through it, and sharing that with thousands of others, bonds the whole class. You can always see how much friendlier, more open and nicer, they all are on the second day."

"That's right Paul. They've seen into their core and discovered, probably for the first time in their lives, what great worthwhile people they really are. That gives them the confidence to show their real selves to others instead of the façades that they had used to deal with society."

"This is getting too deep for me, Julius. I've always accepted people as they are, and have found almost everyone to be very worthwhile. I haven't noticed anybody putting on façades with me except pedophiles. Is this just because I'm a child and most people think it's too much effort to put on any acts to impress me?"

"Taj, you're only a child in years and body. Mentally and emotionally, you are stronger and more mature than most adults, but you are not aloof as adults are behind their barriers. Everybody warms to you because you are genuinely interested in each person you meet and that comes across immediately."

"That's very perceptive, Paul. You're right. Taj isn't fenced in at all. Adults put up barriers to keep people at a distance and cushion themselves from being hurt again. Taj has already suffered a great deal of pain in her life, lost her entire family and was attacked while tiny, yet she is still open and vulnerable."

"Vulnerable to what, Julius? I don't understand. Maybe you're reading me wrong.

"I don't feel open at all. I have a great number of secrets that no one else knows and I cannot talk about. I've lived through enormous dangers by not resisting nor trying to avoid them, but trying to stay simple, flexible and as small a target as possible. Walls and barriers are excess baggage that would have made me more visible and accessible.

"And I am confused about some things. Like, I wish I had killed that major. Yet I am also glad that I have never taken a life and hope never to need to do so."

"Perhaps vulnerable to disappointment and being let down by people you depended upon. That happens to most people over and over."

"Maybe. I've never depended upon anyone. Except perhaps, Maggie. And having no human weaknesses, she has never let me down nor betrayed me.

"Fermina and I have a close but equal relationship. Though she's understanding and supportive, we're more friends than mother and daughter. I've always kept control of my own life."

"That makes you unique Taj. Most children rely on the adults in their lives to provide all they need. I don't know of any other child who was not only self-supporting at such a young age, but also universally loved by a large group of people willing to do anything for you.

"I fear though that when the inevitable first big disappointment happens, that it will be a devastating blow. I hope you survive it without being destroyed."

"I hope so too Julius. As you said, I have already suffered much pain and tragedy in my life, far more even than the official record reveals, and it hasn't turned me into a misanthrope or pessimist. I plan to continue as I am."

"I'll pray that you do, Taj."

"Thank you, Julius. And now we'd better finish here and get to the next class."

* * *

Most of the students who had shared the night classes with Emil turned up for the day class, despite getting only four hours sleep—even less if they had attended that BJJ match.

Violet and the other teachers had done a superb job on them. They were actually two kata ahead of my lot. That would be because Violet gave the preconceptions speech earlier.

I now had over eleven thousand students in this one class. That was almost full capacity.

Meanwhile we'd had to start two new beginner classes two hours apart. Not just to fit the latest accumulation of abused women, but all the paying students who had joined from word-of-mouth recommendations or after seeing my match with Julius either live or on TV.

And still more of each type were pouring in.

Additional classes would be started every few hours today as required. The hundred and forty students who had come along hoping for a little holiday had all been roped in to help my teachers handle the unprecedented influx.

Tomorrow most of these overlapping classes would again be combined into one or two giant ones.

Only Paul and Armando had stayed with me. All my other assistants were from the holidayers, but they fitted in well, improving their own abilities as they helped the new students. It was really amazing how much better and faster everyone learned in a huge class when most people would have expected the reverse.

The elation and enthusiasm increased, spiraled and crescendoed, affecting, sweeping up and inspiring everyone in the room, teachers, assistants and students. Those assistants were all at third level silver by the end of our first period and the rest of the class were there at the second period, all now working at full speed.

We had given all beginners copies of the rules and regulations they needed to learn at the first break yesterday, and now they had all tested word perfect to Maggie. They only needed to partner up, choreograph and practice a new themed routine for the final judging.

Paul and I left them to organize themselves, while we called in on the six other classes that were currently running.

I had been wearing Julian's master's belt all day. Every time I walked into another class I was clapped by the new students, which was nice. I appeared to have become some kind of a hero to them, so it seemed a good idea to try to visit each class I could get to. Many had specified on their enrolment forms that they wanted to be in my class, but when the logistics and time factor were explained to them, they had settled for at least one day under my tutelage.

I gathered all the available teachers with longer experience to help with the judging. Maggie would record each of the choreographed routines so we wouldn't miss any innovative moves which were worth extra points. We had so many third level silvers now, it seemed necessary to add a fourth level to differentiate those with new creative concepts.

Just doing something a little differently, wasn't enough to count as an innovation. It had to be a move which would take an experienced savateur by surprise, but not break any of the savate rules. I had clarified this when teaching Paul's fresh introductions to the class and had claimed each of my own as well, explaining the inspiration or circumstances which had led to each idea.

I collected eighteen more teachers and we saw five presentations at a time. The standard was very high, the themes interesting, the new ideas very few, but those few were arresting.

Emil partnered with one of the smaller ladies. He had worked out answers to some of the tactics I had used to defeat him. He had to alter my moves to suit an adult build, which changed them greatly. He had four new moves and four corresponding new answers to them. He duxed the class with those.

One of the abused ladies, Gemina, had three innovations to use with standard moves. Three others had two each. I offered all four work as assistants. Armando and Julius had paired up and worked out three imaginative answers to counter moves of mine they had seen on the tapes yesterday, also having to alter my moves to fit an adult body.

I realized that I had omitted an important source of new methods designed for a specific purpose, so had Maggie set up four series of the giant screens again and play the tapes of my bouts with the French champions to the room.

These moves inspired Paul, who persuaded Gemina, now in assistant costume, to spar with him and within a short time they came up with five more novel ideas.

I placed all the innovative new maneuvers into kata with appropriate other moves to help them flow smoothly, inventing another new move to fit two of them together better. I taught these to the entire class with the help of my senior teachers and new assistants.

Maggie was already playing the French champions' tapes to two of the other classes. In future they would be shown at the end of the first day's savate instruction.

Maggie had been monitoring each of the students, noting their strengths, weak points, and susceptibilities. Although most had qualified as third level silver, she had added 'commended' and 'highly commended' grades to those and the fourth level winners. She personalized the certificates further with various pertinent comments I or the other judges had made about their performances.

Armando made his usual request for written feedback on the savate course and the certificates were presented.

Chapter 23

A Declaration of Sorts

I worked several of the weight machines for a while, took a long hard swim, then still feeling antsy, asked Maggie for a plaster block. She gave me one already roughly bust-shaped and set on a wooden foundation. I spread out dust cloths and set to work, carving a likeness of Julius as he had looked when offering me his obi. He had understood that I resented the artificial BJJ restrictions which relegated me to nonentity status and disallowed me from displaying my real expertise.

Paul had been out celebrating with his sisters and friends. He returned after a few hours, bringing me tea and a tray of finger food. Although there was a conversation nook on the other side of the room, he sat on my bed to watch me work, making an occasional remark.

Emil had apparently flaked even earlier and retired to bed alone, as Lorna had stayed with the group.

"Gemina told us her story tonight."

"Anything unusual about it?"

"Yes. She came here straight from hospital after delivering early yesterday. She just sneaked out to their car with the baby in a sling at the change of shift."

"Her belly was remarkably flat for a new mother's. Is the baby alright?"

"Yes, though she wasn't due for another three weeks. Labor started when her husband punched her in the guts at the clinic after an ultrasound showed the child was a daughter, not the son he had demanded. He was held by security, arrested and charged. The man then had the hide to message her in delivery to ask her to arrange his bail."

"Did she?"

"No. She took the opportunity to collect what she needed from home, empty their bank accounts and make her escape.

"It had been the first time he'd hit her. She decided there would be no opportunity for a repeat."

"She'd still be bleeding heavily, though she didn't appear pale or weakened. I hope all that savate practice didn't make things worse for her."

"No. The girls asked about that stuff. Apparently the women in the Galen nursery know how to handle all that and fixed her up when she first came in."

That was really interesting. None of my medical books gave any hint about how to turn off the heavy postpartum bleeding, nor how to return the uterus and abdomen to their pre-pregnancy conformation. I'll have to investigate that.

"But though she's mad at her husband, Gemina seems angrier with herself for not having connected the obvious clues earlier and recognized his instability. They dated for three years before marrying and he had always been respectful and gentle, though very definite in his opinions and unforgiving of contrary ideas. He liked everything to be as he had ordered it.

"I wouldn't have picked up the possibility of gross violence from just that. I don't understand how she can blame herself for anything."

I glanced back. The poor chap did appear confused.

"It's a female thing, Paul. Women have always been the nurturers and peacemakers. So they're always blamed for not keeping their husbands under control. It's as if men were savage pit bulls which always have to be muzzled and restrained in public, yet are docile with their owners.

"Women have bought into that idea that they are responsible for their men's bad behavior, taking the guilt onto themselves. Most abusers and rapists play into that belief too, blaming the woman for upsetting or arousing them."

"So that really makes abusive men and rapists into impulsive, immature boys blaming everyone else for their reactions and lack of control?"

"Something like that, I guess. It's not a modern thing.

"For most of history, women have put up with the most brutal men and foul treatment in order to raise their families. They had no other recourse. To survive, they just had to discover a way to live with the man they'd been stuck with.

"Those who succeeded, passed along the tricks and techniques they used to avoid being beaten and to keep their men calm and satisfied. And still, many women were treated as punching bags and murdered by their husbands for no particular reason."

"What, sexual tricks?" Paul's eyes had lit up with interest.

I laughed. I certainly was not going there.

"Sometimes, maybe. The ones I've heard of were about keeping your man well fed—stuffing him with a heavy, slow-to-digest meal as soon as he returned home, so he was too torpid and contented to get violent.

"Or like Scheherazade entertaining him with stories. Don't forget, her husband killed a thousand innocent women before her. She didn't go to the Bluebeard because she loved him; she married him hoping to stop the slaughter. Her mother was English and Scheherazade was well-educated and very intelligent."

"You mean she was real? I thought that book was just fables and fairy tales."

"Many of the stories she told were, but quite a few were historical. Scheherazade herself and the Shah were real. I like to believe that her success was responsible for Arabic girls' being better educated.

"You know, the old Biblical and Hebraic laws allowed a man to mistreat, even kill a disobedient wife, as long as he followed the rule of thumb."

Paul raised an eyebrow in enquiry.

"The stick or rod he beat her with had to be no thicker than the base of his thumb."

"No, I didn't know that. I'd heard of the rule of thumb, but thought it was just a way of taking a rough measurement. How barbaric."

"Yes, but people, especially men, were barbaric then. They usually owed allegiance to some overlord and had to go off regularly to fight in various wars, raids or invasions. Many women were actually war booty, torn from their homes, still mourning slaughtered husbands and family, handed out to whomever was in need of a wife.

"Most problems were settled by fighting, killing or treachery, so even in their homes that was the only way men knew how to behave.

"It's only in the last two centuries that wife-beating has been considered a crime."

"Well, I couldn't hit either a woman or a child."

I glanced back at him again. Paul had removed his shoes and was now leaning against my piled pillows, his head cradled in his interlocked hands, elbows out. I wondered idly if that common position would classify as akimbo.

"I should hope not."

"The ironic thing is that Gemina actually birthed a boy and her husband won't know unless he goes to the hospital."

"Well, ultrasounds can only reveal what the baby's position allows. I've seen some very strange ultrasound echoes, even a famous one which showed a distinct cat in with the fetus."

Paul went quiet after that.

I became so engrossed in my work I forgot about him. I finished the piece and asked Maggie to coat it with pewter coloring again. It did look good.

^^You do appear to have caught the inner person, Taj. You could read his whole character from your depiction. Do you want me to place a copy next to his other bust? And another for Armando? I presume you'd want to keep the original. ^^??

"Yes. Good idea. Thanks Maggie." I yawned. "I'm really tired now. Time for bed."

^^What about Paul?^^

"What about him?"

^^He fell asleep in your bed. Do you want me to move him?^^

I turned. Paul looked so peaceful curled on his side. So innocent. So trusting. My heart went out to him.

"No, just put him in pajamas please and place him under the covers. The bed's king-size. There's plenty of room for both of us."

I shook some loose plaster dust off my PJs, then gave up and stripped them off, tossing them into the laundry basket. I folded up the dustcovers, brushed my hair, took a quick shower, cleaned my teeth, donned fresh pajamas climbed into bed and fell asleep.

I woke after a few hours to find myself cradled in Paul's arms, my ear against his steadily beating heart. That felt very nice. I did wonder which of us had scooched over to the other, but fell asleep again before figuring it out.

I was first to wake in the morning and just lay there watching him sleep, still enfolded in his arms, but with my head up on a pillow this time.

Paul looked younger and more relaxed asleep. Around seventeen. His eyelids flickered in REM stage. I wondered what he dreamt about.

I had never been able to look at him so closely before. His eyebrows and lashes actually weren't blonde; they were fawn. I wondered if he had them dyed or if they were natural.

Very gently, I placed a hand on his left temple and traced it down his face feeling his firm, soft skin and almost invisible upper lip bristles. I had never touched Paul's face before.

I had been fascinated by his skin from the first. It was so pale and translucent, but not pink as you might expect, very fine textured and glowing with health. Any woman would be pleased to have such skin. It was very sun-sensitive, but he knew to guard it outdoors.

With that radiant skin, his height, good looks and glossy pale hair, Paul was very distinctive, a lambent candle drawing every eye, especially with his hair loose. I could easily follow his movements through a crowded room. But then, my eyes seemed to follow him naturally.

He turned his head when my fingers reached the corner of his mouth and quickly captured them, sucking and licking them delicately. His eyes opened. He released my fingers.

Paul's eyes were a deep blue, yet I'd always thought them gray. Even as I watched, they changed color, back to gray. That was fascinating.

"You taste chalky. Am I in your bed, or you in mine?" His voice was a little husky.

"We're both in mine, Paul. Did one of your eager admirers knock on the door and drive you to me for protection?"

He grinned. "No. Nobody has propositioned me since the girls arrived. Maybe they know my heart has already been claimed?"

This was the first time he had hinted at his feelings. I would have preferred to leave things unspoken for much longer, but it would have been crass and dishonest not to acknowledge them. I think Paul needed to know how I felt.

"I'm sorry you'll have such a long wait, Paul. Working and living so closely makes it even harder for you. Until I grow up you probably should hook up with someone else to ease your tension. I won't mind. Really.

"As it is, I've already promised to marry four other boys when we're grown."

"So, despite getting in so early, I'm already too late?"

I smiled, showing him the feelings I didn't wish to speak of. "Never. But you might have to learn to share me. I do love each of them too."

"At least that will be easy. I already have to share you with so many people who want a part of you. But didn't you know that marriage is supposed to be between two people only?"

"No, we didn't. We had very unnatural lives. All we understood was that people who loved each other married when they grew up, and then lived happily for ever after. It gave us a reason to try harder to survive—a reward to look forward to.

"We were raised in a truly dreadful place and looked out for each other. They and Horrie saved my life numerous times, giving me an alibi to be out of bed when I'd been spying on the adults.

"Our attrition rate was very high. Over thirty of our group didn't survive the first five years. Few of the older ones reached twenty. We were culled like meat animals.

"The guards all loved Horrie and did what they could to keep him calm. His poor brain short-circuited occasionally. I was the only one who could ease him then. We just cuddled up in his big wing chair under a blanket and watched that video until we fell asleep.

"Twice I was chosen for the annual medical check nobody ever returned from. They liked to weed out the less attractive ones, and with my high forehead, big nose and ears, I was considered a funny-looking runt. Only Horrie's having a major screaming fit saved me.

"He'd had one before when I was undergoing surgery. He went berserk for three days, destroyed a lot of property and hurt himself badly. They had to put us in adjacent hospital beds to recover. Nobody wanted that again, so two other children died in my place those years.

"Horrie did pretend his damage was worse than it was. He deliberately babbled, drooled and acted foolish, picking up a lot of info we couldn't have obtained otherwise. He made our spy cells work more effectively too and helped plan and organize our escape.

"We broke out, got away, separated, and lost each other. I don't even know who else made it, who was recaptured, nor if any others are still alive.

"Maggie arranged my ID as Alessandra, who is a real person, two and a half years my junior. She moved to Galen with her family. Maggie has kept an eye on me since.

"I actually turned nine four months back, so you won't have as long to wait as you expected."

"Still more than long enough. But we'll make it. I'm certain of that."

"Yes. I too believe we were destined to be together, Paul. The time will pass."

"So, is Taj really your name?"

"Yes, my birth mother called me that."

"Good, I'm pleased to know your true name. You can tell me more over the next nine years. A little at a time, so we won't run out of things to talk about."

"Oh you!" I sat up and threw my pillow at him as he rose.

"I'll take first shower." Paul tossed the pillow back, grinning.

"You have plaster dust in your hair. Give it an extra shampoo."

"I'll do that."

He hadn't offered to help wash my hair. So, now our feelings had been admitted, albeit obliquely, he had set up new boundaries. That was so thoughtful of Paul, but I'd miss our comfortable old ease with each other's nudity.

Chapter 24

Planning the French Dojo

I felt a little nervous at breakfast, expecting a great fuss from the two men.

Julius came over and kissed me on the cheek.

"Thank you Taj. I am honored that you thought me a worthy subject. I'm also a little overwhelmed at all the qualities you portrayed. I've always had a good opinion of myself, but you've turned me into a saint.

"If I ran for President with that bust on my posters, I'd be a walk-in."

"Nah, you wouldn't have a hope. It shows all your vulnerabilities too. If you weren't assassinated before the election, they'd manage to corrupt or blackmail you their way. That's how the world is run nowadays."

He gave me a sharp look. "You're too young to be so cynical, but I can't say you're wrong either. So I'll stay safely unimportant and try to live up to that image. Thank you, again."

Armando just nodded approvingly. Meeting a man who talked more than he did had improved him.

Emil looked rather bleary-eyed when he appeared, but brightened when Lorna offered him the place she'd saved alongside her. He also kissed me before sitting down.

"We'll need to have a talk later, Emil, to discuss the new site."

"At first break? I should be more awake by then. I'm not too bright early in the day."

* * *

The karate training went well. We began with the usual workout of heavy calisthenics to loosen up, then the early kata in each style. Many of the students broke through in the first three kata repeats which inspired the others. The entire class reached second dan black belt in each karate type in the first session.

* * *

Emil, Paul, Ron and I ate in my apartment so we could talk to Maggie in private.

Maggie showed a video of the site on a wall screen. A large industrial park had been built in a flat-bottomed cup-shaped valley surrounded by rolling hills. A small town had grown slowly out of the former village on one hill and was spreading outwards. A well-planned university was laid out on an opposite hill.

The little valley had been farmed or grazed for centuries. Nothing had ever been built there before and there had been warnings that the ground was unstable. But the weather had been very dry for a long time—near twelve years—and no problems had arisen until three very wet seasons followed. The complex not only flooded, but the heavy concrete base slab tilted and sank into the swamp beneath, slowly enough so that anything of value could be saved.

The land had been available very cheaply. But because the swamp had a large build-up of DDT and still bred Anopheles mosquitoes, it required major rehabilitation.

^^The soil underneath is incredibly rich and deep,?? said Maggie. ??Once the DDT has been eaten, it will be replaced with rocks, gravel and sand to make a fresh-water aquifer around a deep large tower. The good dirt will be removed and used to improve poor soils elsewhere.^^

"What on earth eats DDT?" asked Ron, before I could.

^^Galen has bred a DDT-phage—bugs which eat the poison and in three stages, turn it into a type of fertilizer. We have bought up lots of DDT-polluted land at rock bottom prices because nobody else could use it. It's all been rehabilitated and is now farmed organically.^^

"That's great, Maggie. Now you need something that eats radioactivity and you can buy up enormous swathes of Russia.

"After that, talk China out of their terrible industrial pollution—they're poisoning American farmland as well as their own people, soil and the ocean and islands in between.

"Try a combination of diplomacy and blackmail. Threaten to undercut the prices of all their goods and flood their markets if they don't immediately change their ways."

^^Great minds . . . , Taj. Galen already owns the poisoned Russian land and we do have a radiation-phage, but it's still very slow. We're working to improve it.

^^But we hadn't thought of blackmailing China into changing. I'll put people onto that.^^

"You may even be able to get the whole country into Galen by showing the people in charge how you rehabilitate other places that were badly polluted. Show them workers wearing visible protective gear to imply noxious gases.

"Of course, you'd have to temporarily rehouse the population and animals in your towers while accomplishing the work. Can't have them poisoned by those lethal fumes, you know.

"Then it's up to you to win them over quickly so they have no interest in returning. The politicos won't be able to keep power with nobody to lord it over."

^^You make it sound so simple, Taj. I don't believe it could be done quite so easily.^^

"That depends on how fast you can get all the towers up and the people moved in. China's biggest problem has always been overpopulation. They wouldn't care if you removed a few or many. But if you took the lot . . ."

^^If we plan it all out before starting negotiations, we can put up enough towers overnight and move everybody in the following day.

^^You're a dangerous person, Taj. The world is fortunate that you're not interested in power.^^

"Who says I'm not?" I put on my most evil grin and made my eyes glitter. "How do you know that I'm not planning to take over the world after Galen tames it?"

"I say you're not," said Paul. "Stop trying to scare Maggie, Taj. We all know that you're too altruistic to be power hungry.

"However Maggie, I do believe that her idea is feasible. It will take cunning and guile, but if your negotiators pretend to be completely altruistic and naïve they just might pull it off."

"Yeah, that really would be terrific. How are you handling the mosquitoes, Maggie?"

^^Galen makes sonic air cleaners which fence off our organic farms and collect all the pollution muck, asbestos fibers, viruses, bacteria, GMO pollen, fungus and mold spores and unwanted pest insects out of the air so the soil isn't polluted again.

^^We can program them to catch any species of insect we choose while allowing bees and other beneficial bugs free access. We'll soon be selling versions for vehicles, and portable individual ones for people and animals to wear when outside.^^

"Sound good. Now, how long is all this going to take before we can use the tower?"

^^About a month. Six weeks at most.^^

"And you can guarantee that there will be no more Anopheles? We don't want clients catching malaria—that's a nasty disease and you can't always tell who's carrying it."

^^The Anopheles have already been vacuumed up. Our bots have removed the lower soil levels and made a galenite cave roof over the area. They fill it loosely with rocks to check the quantity of water seepage. The site is only thirty miles from the ocean, so we need a positive ground water pressure there to keep out sea water.

^^The DDT-phages are working through the upper soil. The bots remove the cleansed soil and raise the roof periodically.

^^Because this is a major work, I've come up with a different property arrangement. Galen had already bought the whole valley, some of the hills, and property in the town. We're still uncertain whether or not to fill the valley with a lake, leaving several towers as islands joined by bridges to each other, the town and the university. Or we might retain the galenite cave roof and have gardens in between several towers.

^^Whatever we do, the dojo tower will be leased to you for life and then probably revert to Galen.^^

"It sounds likely to be a great tourist attraction, Maggie. Can you ring the whole area with your sonic cleansers and ban petroleum-sucking vehicles, lawn mowers and power tools completely? We can use bicycles and an electric shuttle system on the bridges and have a large protected garaging place outside the town to park tourist buses and motor vehicles for those who want to drive outside the area.

"With the loss of the industrial park, and now a malaria scare and a stinking swamp, the town economy will be depressed.

"If we addressed a town meeting and explained our plans, I'm certain everybody would be eager to live with really clean air, a pretty view and a thriving tourist industry. You could advertise the place as a microcosm of what Galen plans to do with our world."

Paul was concerned. "Removing all the soil clear down to bedrock, could prevent a return of the swamp, but you also need to add life forms which could aerate the new soil and prevent stagnancy and stink. With such a large buildup of groundwater draining from those hills, that would be difficult. A lake would be easier to monitor."

"I think I would prefer the lake too, Maggie, with gardens around the shore. You already make the outside of every tower into a garden. That should be sufficient.

"You could build a futuristic-looking aerial ring road inside the lake with short offshoots approaching each tower. Another ring road inside, or above the vehicular one would be reserved for pedestrian traffic—joggers, runners, people walking their dogs, with inbuilt human and canine comfort stations of course.

"I'm sure Galen residents would also like somewhere pleasant to exercise their pets. It would be a place where people on the outside could meet everyday residents of Galen and see for themselves that these people were as normal as outsiders think we are.

"I know, Maggie, that the main reason you've been helping me expand my dojos lately is to attract more people to Galen. You'll get more custom if you deëmphasize the criminal rehabilitation and show the happy ordinary people doing normal everyday things like walking their pets."

"But wouldn't the lake bring back mosquitos and the malaria?" asked Emil. "How high do mosquitos fly? I wouldn't want to be eaten alive while out walking, and with all respect to La Tabanita, I'd prefer no horse flies or other biting insects."

^^Good point Emil. Mosquito larvae are an important base food in a lake ecology. We can completely filter out the Anopheles and others which are known to harbor disease and fit Taj's walking track with sonic bug repellants so neither walkers nor their pets get bitten.??

"Can we persuade the next Tour de France to be run on our ring road? Do you have the political connections for that, Maggie? Maybe if you donated an air cleaner to each participant?"

^^More great ideas, Emil. Our founder is the one with political connections. I'll put it to her.

^^Anyone have anything else to add?^^

"Yes, Maggie. You may as well make the dojo tower with all the plants usual for a Galen tower, just with wider walkways.

"I think everybody is curious about what exactly is inside one of your towers, but doesn't want to risk joining and being trapped just to satisfy their curiosity. So you should reserve another tower as a hotel for tourist accommodation, plus whatever the town organizes. Keep jobs in that for the townspeople. I don't want our recovering ladies to be turned into something for the tourists to gawk at. They have enough adjustments to make without suffering that too."

^^Those are also good points, Taj.^^

"Maggie, I dislike to bring this up, but what happens to my interest in the dojo tower if the next assassination attempt succeeds and Taj is killed?"

"Don't be embarrassed, Emil. That's an important point. We've been planning this for a while and you've put a lot of research into the project. I'd expect you to inherit my lifetime lease and run the place yourself. That will work, won't it, Maggie?"

^^Yes, I can arrange that. But rest easy Emil, nobody will get to Taj while I exist. She's my lucky charm. I look after her.^^

* * *

Maggie wouldn't explain what she had meant by my being her 'lucky charm.' It seemed odd phrasing. Perhaps it was that I had given her so many ideas for getting people into Galen. I puzzled over it the rest of the day without coming up with anything clearer.

Paul's setting us new barriers had made him more proprietary. Now he felt secure enough to correct my inappropriate mischief. More interesting was discovering that I liked this.

Nobody else had ever attempted to set me limits. Fermina passed on what was appropriate behavior for a well brought up high class Portuguese girl, but she did not insist that I act that way except around unreconstructed Latin men.

Before Fermina, my circumstances had constrained me. My risk-taking then was confined mostly to essential spying.

I had always felt guilty over the two children who had been butchered in my stead. They had been friends. Helping Dena and Lorne recover from the ordeal which should have been mine and Vene's, had helped ease that guilt, so wasn't completely altruistic.

Helping Horrie through his bad times had also set me up for future alibis. His nightmares gave him little restful sleep, so he was nearly always awake and willing to help. Evan would always warn me when the guards discovered my bed empty and I would race to Horrie's room, where we both curled up in his chair under the blanket and pretended to be asleep. The video was always in the machine ready.

Chapter 25

Expanding the Curriculum

The students reached sixth dan black belt in all three karate styles halfway into the second session.

"Okay, class, you're all cleverer than I expected. As I'm only teaching the kata, you will all need to have further classes to learn to spar, to strengthen your muscles and bones, increase your pain tolerance and to use your own judgment occasionally. Any dojo can handle that.

"Now I'm torn between teaching you the wealth of kata in Shitō-ryū, several of which were specifically designed for women's self-defense and Keysi do which used to be called the Keysi Fighting Method.

"Keysi is not a karate style. It is based on dirty, no rules, street fighting and is the method used in the Mission Impossible and the Nolan Batman films. Of course in the movies, it is choreographed and all the moves are spread wide apart and stretched out to look more effective. However, once mastered, practitioners really can defend themselves against 5, 10, 20 or more attackers, even when surrounded, though it's always preferable to have one's back against a wall.

"Like Gōjū-ryū it is very effective for in-close fighting. It makes a weapon of every part that the body can wield quickly in a small space: fists, head, knees, and most importantly, the elbows, though almost no kicks are used, so you retain a solid footing.

"Unfortunately, I can't teach you the speed you'll also need to handle it expertly. That comes only after long practice. Though, considering how rapidly you all developed speed in savate, we might do as well.

"Shitō-ryū would be of most benefit for those of you not interested in attending a dojo for years. You can still stay fit and limber by regularly practicing several kata in private or with your children.

"So make a choice: more kata or street fighting? Show of hands for more kata, please."

Maggie announced that Shitō-ryū had won around three-fifths of the votes, so we started immediately. Again we finished early, so I had the students pair up and spar, mixing the moves as if really attacking and defending.

It felt good to have given the class an unexpected bonus.

* * *

The fourth day was devoted to Brazilian Jui-Jitsu, Judo and Jujutsu. My teachers had all become expert at these recently, so divided and took over the class, which would need more space to handle the throws.

Everyone was taught the new locks which Paul and I had invented. These mostly used nerve pinches which numbed the limb and made it inoperative. They could be made tighter to bring extreme pain to an attacker, yet caused no lasting harm.

Some nerve pinches caused agonizing muscle cramps which effectively paralyzed the limb but had no side-effects. We also used minor but still painful finger, elbow and shoulder joint dislocations, instead of the major knee, neck, wrist and ankle ones which can often cause severe injuries, no matter how highly qualified the practitioner.

Practicing several varieties of yoga most of my life had made me a yogini with extreme flexibility. I had learnt to dislocate each of my joints easily while disassociating myself from the pain, so dislocations were no longer uncomfortable for me. However, I had been extremely careful when teaching the technique to Paul and Armando so as not to hurt them unduly.

It offended my sense of propriety that anyone should dislocate joints in competitions and in training. Muggers and other assailants deserved pain and damage, fellow martial artists did not.

* * *

My other teachers and most of the holidayers were teaching savate around the clock to more staggered groups of incoming new students. The night teachers had concentrated on the first two session savate classes, so all savate third sessions were held in combined classes of 5-8,000 when I could drop in on them.

I handled the accumulated groups that had already done three savate sessions, limiting the class to 12,600. Paul and the four new women helped.

Paul and I also checked on each of the many staggered savate classes during the day while my lady helpers continued teaching karate kata. That had become quick and easy now the students understood the breakthrough principle.

Again the class completed the sixth dan kata in each karate style early. This lot chose the street fighting, so I taught that to my assistants and the class.

As usual, Paul owned each kata as soon as he'd seen me make the moves, but Gemina was there on the second repeat and the other three ladies only needed three repeats, as did most of the class. I was quite eager to see how much faster the students would learn in the much bigger class I could accommodate in the French dojo.

We had almost two full sessions to fill. Keysi was a style which had never been put in kata before, though it was always taught in a series of moves. But everyone was picking it up so rapidly, I was sure this teaching method would be successful. The corresponding bunkai oyo also were learnt before the second session was over, so I left my three ladies to supervise the class and asked everyone to practice sparring the kata and relevant attack forms alternately in pairs.

* * *

Again savate students in the three leading classes had made innovations that I fitted into more kata and attack combinations, which they learnt quickly. I sent an assistant to each of the other savate classes to pass on the new routines.

Again I hired the eight innovative ladies as aides. This time, three of the men who had invented new moves as well, asked if they also could work with me for a while to gain more expertise, so I took them on too.

After a delayed meal break we returned to my Keysi class. By this time all the students understood how to control and pull their moves to touch, not hurt. In the third session I wanted them to progress to free sparring, acting out being attacked in a street fight by two to four assailants. We got them started and again left them to the ladies.

* * *

My new recruits were fascinated by Keysi and had already picked up a few interesting moves they saw the students making, often achieving perfect form in these. That was interesting, but I had a schedule to keep so couldn't spend time investigating the process.

I took all my new helpers to the JJ classes. Exciting things had happened here. We had five BJJ masters who had stayed together. Seeing Julius invent new moves in savate had enthused them. My putting most of the BJJ and JJ moves into kata, inspired them to look at their well-known field from a different viewpoint.

They had made new discoveries and were astounded by their previously untapped creative talents.

Julius spoke to my new male workers, then came over.

"Taj, you've inspired us old fellows and turned our musty routines upside down and inside out. Your youthful vigor is rubbing off on us. We feel rejuvenated by what you've taught us and want to learn more.

"We wish to apprentice as your assistants as long as you stay in Buenos Aires. You don't even have to pay us. We'll happily work for free."

"Okay Julius, but like all my assistants, you'll get free meals. You can all join in as long as you wear your master's belts at every session. Being in authority over a bunch of masters should do wonders for my reputation, not to mention my self-esteem. I'm sure Paul will pull me back in line if I throw my weight about too heavily."

I grinned cheekily at Paul, who returned a stern frown.

I checked out all their innovations and composed a kata and complement to fit them together. We taught these to both classes, then the new savate kata too.

Back again in my Keysi class, I discovered my ladies, recently cowed and browbeaten, still so new to martial arts, had done far better than expected. They and the class had invented twenty-six brilliant innovations and already set them into two smooth kata and reciprocal combinations with a few known joining moves. We were very proud of them.

* * *

The new arrangement was leaked to the media—I hadn't banned cell phones, but warned that I would not be responsible for any that were damaged during sparring.

Again we were inundated with paparazzi and TV news crews.

I'm usually polite to reporters, no matter how inane some of their questions, but one woman asked: "Isn't it true that you're not really a child at all, but a thirty-year-old midget?"

I came back with a straight face, deepening my voice: "Sprung! I knew I couldn't keep that secret forever. But you have the age incorrect. I'm only twenty-six. No young woman would admit to being thirty. And we prefer to be called 'little people', thank you."

The twit didn't detect my sarcasm and actually ran that story. I was the butt of annoying non-PC midget jokes for months afterwards.

* * *

Most of the reporters were from sports media and knew about BJJ. There was a lot of speculation about whether the controlling family would relax their stringent age rules for me.

I had greatly increased the number of effective moves in the field and discovered less vicious locks which could be used in all the other martial arts. I had not only defeated one of their masters, but proved all the vaunted BJJ locks ineffective against me.

Also, despite BJJ's slow careful promotion system resulting in their having excellent teachers, each of the current masters admitted that my fighting and teaching skills were superior to theirs.

I lapped up all these articles and unfortunately started believing my publicity. Even thought my officially being sixty-one years short of the age requirement would be no real impediment to my being made a master of BJJ. I definitely set myself up for a fall there.

* * *

We soon settled into a routine, alternating Keysi and Shitō-ryū, then added Bruce Lee's Jeet Kune Do, Kung Fu, Israel's Krav Maga and Aikido as further choices which kept my assistants interested. I continued accepting innovators as aides and they all developed into brilliant teachers.

The ladies continued to pour in at an average fifteen hundred a day. We fitted them all in comfortably. Maggie was happy with the number that almost immediately moved to Galen, though most eased their way in slowly, usually propelled by the benefits visible in their children.

The clients slowed somewhat to three thousand new starters daily.

* * *

Paul and I developed a little quiet time routine before bed. Since moving in with Fermina, I had taken care of my hands and cuticles every evening.

Because of his delicate skin, Paul had a real problem with hangnails tearing deep into his flesh, so when he noticed how easily I razored mine off at the root, had asked for help with his. The deep tears required disinfecting and Magic-gluing to prevent their tearing further. After the initial work, I checked his hands at the close of each day, removing or gluing incipient cuticle tears before they became a problem.

Both of us enjoyed the comforting, non-erotic touching this involved. I taught him also to use cuticle remover nightly, to rub in cuticle oil or petroleum jelly to feed the cuticles, to push them back and keep his cuticles flexible.

I had always kept my nails quite short and unpainted. Paul said I had beautiful hands and complimented me on the shape of my long nail beds.

"They would look lovely if you grew them a little longer and wore pink polish," he suggested.

So I did grow them for a few weeks and filed them into an oval shape. Paul bought me several bottles of enamel in soft colors, base and top coats and painted them for me. He did a good job and they did look pretty.

Soon Lorna grew her nails too and allowed Paul to paint them, though she preferred stronger colors. Ron joined us to take better care of his hands and the other Evans girls and assistants followed.

After all, our hands were constantly on display as we taught and adjusted people's stances, so it looked more professional to keep them nicely groomed.

Chapter 26

Enlarging my Empire

Galen's boffins tested all the Evans sisters, determining that they produced a pheromone counteracting Paul's, but only in his company. This proved simple to synthesize and was added to a spray deodorant for him. Problem solved.

Maggie also located Don and presented him with the 'cure'. She even managed to get a list of all his siblings, his children and their whereabouts.

Surprisingly, only a third of his offspring were male. There were four other Evans sons around the critical age.

Most of the holidayers, now fully qualified and expert teachers, had to return to work at their day jobs within the next fortnight. They took all the new kata back with them to teach at their home dojos.

Armando also returned. The teachers who had been keeping things going in the three US dojos were rewarded with a working holiday in Buenos Aires as assistants to update their skills.

Armando visited the older Evans boys and presented them with certificates for free tuition at any of my dojos. Two, Ian and Cory, decided to come to Buenos Aires, where they proved equal in ability to Ron. Younger Evans siblings, including the sheriff's ten-year-old daughter Amylou, were also roped in for lessons the same way.

* * *

Emil stayed with us a fortnight, learning all he could and courting Lorna, then also had to return to France, by the informal Maggie method again.

Maggie decided that she needed more gathering centers for abused women, so found me two likely sites in the US and one each in Peru, Brazil and Mexico to purchase. There she put up dojo towers and their adjacent buildings.

Not surprisingly, the first new US dojo was sited in the town where Don Evans had made his new home. And the other was near Don's family home where he had many siblings, nieces and nephews. So I now had bases in three US southern states.

I sent Violet and an Evans daughter to run one, and two Evans girls to supervise the other for me with Ron liaising between us.

I asked Julius if he wanted to run one of my dojos. He chose the one in Brazil, so that was the next to open. Lorna had already requested to work in the French dojo, so I sent her to both the US ones before they opened and then the Brazil dojo to learn how things were organized at the start-up. Maggie set up a bronze bust there with a giant photo of Julius laughing as I held him in the air.

I and most of my assistants spent ten days in Brazil getting everything running smoothly and finding and training new local innovators to assist Julius.

* * *

I even managed to spend three days with Fermina, who appeared a little off-color. Her fridge and pantry were almost empty, so Paul and I went grocery shopping and together cooked up a storm, showing off our culinary talents. I enjoy cooking as long as I don't have to do it three times a day, every day. Paul had some interesting specialties and didn't leave the kitchen in a mess.

I've always disliked reheating frozen meals, so the newest Galen preserving system suited me fine. I had bought four of their hampers which we packed with weeks' worth of hot meals and fresh salads for her. These hampers kept food in perfect ready-to-eat condition. There was a nearby Galen shop where Duarte could have the hampers restocked. I'd never known him to cook so they would be a boon for him. The Galen food containers didn't pollute either—they simply returned to Galen as soon as emptied.

Paul drove us to the gym for a swim each day. Fermina tired easily and couldn't swim as many laps as before, though she was doing it more slowly. I scolded her for getting unfit. She promised to look after herself better.

Duarte didn't think there was any problem. "Fermina's fine, Alessandra. She has seen a doctor and he told her it was just the Change which happens to all women. He thought, never having borne a child has made it harder for her as she's mourning the last possibility of ever conceiving one.

"Besides, you're just comparing her to the super fit people you associate with."

That made me laugh. "Duarte, at the moment my dojos are full of harassed, worn out women trying to build new lives after escaping an abusive relationship. They're far from super fit."

"Fermina does look peaked to me too," said Paul. "Take her to another doctor for a full physical and if he finds nothing, try a naturopath who could check her for a nutritional deficiency. She may have been careless about her diet without Taj here to cook for."

Paul and I had prepared the fancy multicourse dinner we were sharing and Fermina was eating all I served her. I had learnt all my cooking expertise from Fermina, who had always been meticulous about meals being correctly balanced, especially including all the necessary proteins. It didn't seem likely that she would suddenly drop the habits of a lifetime and stop eating properly.

I was also very surprised that Duarte would mention such a private feminine event as menopause. I doubted Fermina would have discussed the subject with him and she hadn't defended herself in any way during our conversation, keeping her eyes down on her plate.

That doctor must have been old school—blaming a woman's unwellness on 'feminine problems' was an easy out for a patronizing medico too lazy to investigate properly.

Paul and Fermina did the dishes afterwards so I saw Duarte out. I needed to have a few private words with him.

"Duarte, I don't understand why Fermina can pilot her boat a great distance, but won't drive a car. Every time I try to discuss it, she changes the subject. Do you know?"

"Yes, Alessandra. It's no secret. Fermina was at the wheel when her husband had the stroke. She drove him to a hospital in such a panic that she crashed into an ambulance there. Fortunately it was empty so nobody else was hurt, but Bernaldo had a second stroke from the shock and died minutes later despite attempts to resuscitate him. Fermina hasn't driven since."

"That's sad. Thanks for explaining. Tell me, was the doctor who saw Fermina familiar with her history?"

"Oh yes, he was the family doctor. Bernaldo always went to him."

"Well, I believe in getting a second opinion. I'll make a list of well recommended doctors and naturopaths in the area and hope you'll ensure she sees a few until we get a full physical check and a better diagnosis. Okay?"

"Certainly. I'm glad you care enough to make sure of her health."

"Of course I care. She's my mother."

* * *

I had carved a bust of Emil, trying to make him look fierce, but he was a naturally soft-hearted guy and currently too gooey with love for that to work. I made another of him pretending to look aggrieved as he complained to Julius about my ridiculing him, but again that had too much humor in it. My third effort depicted him at the moment he realized during our bout that I was toying with him. That worked best.

Lorna loved all three so Maggie gave her and Emil copies and made a bronze of the last one. She also made a large still photo of Emil's best shot in that match, taken from an angle which made it look much closer than the reality.

My bust of Violet was the most spectacular because the model was so striking with lovely bone structure, as well as being a very sweet person. Maggie also used a monochrome still of her sparring with Paul for his choreographed test.

I made other busts of the Evans girls and renowned martial arts personalities: Justo Dieguez founder of Keysi do, for Buenos Aires, where I had originally taught it. That was my first bare-chested bust, deeper than most so I could trace out his arm-ringing tattoo and beautifully defined chest and back muscles. For Mexico I did the Keysi co-founder, Andy Norman in the defensive 'thinking man' stance, wearing a tank and also flashing his matching tattoo, with Bruce Lee for Peru.

* * *

I offered Paul a dojo of his own to run, but he wasn't interested.

"No thanks, Taj. I'm staying right here by your side.

"I want to share every possible moment with you. To watch you grow up and blossom and get to know you as well as anyone can. I also figure that if I spend the next nine years making myself indispensable, I'll get a jump on your other suitors."

I climbed up onto his lap for a hug and kissed his cheek for the first time. Paul kissed me back on the forehead as usual.

"That's very sweet, Paul, but don't cut yourself off from adult company."

He laughed, placing me back on the floor. "Taj, the only children you see are the few in your classes. All your friends are adults. Haven't you noticed?"

"Actually, no, I hadn't. I had such a surfeit of five-year-old girls when I first moved in with Fermina, I still feel surrounded by them. I attended so many birthday parties and sleepovers, where the most thrilling event was playing with the latest weeing doll. I must have been avoiding the little kids since."

Paul laughed so hard, he almost fell out of his chair. "I can't even imagine your playing with a weeing doll," he gasped. "Oh, Sweetie, that must have been stultifying for a mind like yours. You deserve a medal for even trying to fit in with groups of little girls."

"I wish you'd been around back then to explain that to Fermina. She was so pleased that I was popular with all the small fry and had so many suitable little friends.

"We had nothing in common. They only liked me because I had mouthed off to the Sunday school teacher and got myself expelled. They all thought I was very brave, but I just couldn't stand all that crap she was spouting. The fool woman had no right to teach religion with only third hand opinions. She'd never even read the Bible. I've found most ardent Christians haven't."

"And you quoted Chapter and verse and made her look stupid?"

"I quoted Shakespeare too."

"Well, if she called you the Devil, she deserved telling off. You may be iconoclastic, but you're the kindest person I've ever known, and you've done an enormous amount of good for less fortunate people. It's not the behavior expected of a trained assassin."

"Actually, thinking kind thoughts about, and ways to help people was one of the most successful antidotes I thought up for some of the brainwashing Typhon fed us.

"They depersonalized and marginalized our potential targets, so rehumanizing and making them more sympathetic straightened that out. I guess that way of thinking about and treating people became a habit after a while.

"I do feel an empathy for the abused ladies because I understand the horror of being objectified and made other by our masters. We were less than chattels, because those are safeguarded.

"They liked to hurt us and occasionally to kill off a few of us at random, apparently just to keep us off balance and prove how valueless we were. That supposedly prevented our getting any ideas of self-worth or of thinking we might be able to have some kind of a real life. We were meant to feel hopeless and helpless, but we beat them and escaped.

"At least, I think most of us escaped. I was the last one out and didn't see any groups of captives. We were supposed to leave call signs on designated internet sites. But the only one that ever appeared was mine.

"Oh Paul, it's so hard not knowing. Surely, if they made it they would know about me. I haven't led a cloistered life, and I always sign them a message when I'm interviewed for TV.

"They must also have seen Maggie's ads touting my dojos as refuges, so they could have safely left a message at any of those.

"Anyway, what else would I do with all my money but help people? I won't support the charity industry where so many behests are wasted on junkets and personnel development purposes not intended by the donor. Neither do I want to start a charity of my own with a large bureaucracy.

"Instead I subsidize several thousand crazy cat ladies and hundreds of old guys worldwide, who take in stray cats or dogs and feed others every night at various sites. I pay desexing and other veterinary fees for feral animals too and support four no-kill shelters."

Paul pulled me in for another hug. "You're an education, Taj. You have a unique slant on the world."

* * *

Paul, Ron, their available sisters, and I attended each opening and stayed at least a week. It was interesting to meet the famous Don Evans, now happily using Paul's deodorant and toiletries range. He was naturally charming even without the help of his pheromone. And athletic, good-looking, softly spoken, gentle and courteous in that old-fashioned style. I could see where Paul had obtained his courtly manners and relaxed easy way with women.

Don also shared Paul's wonderful full proprioception gift, so I hired him to work with the newly escaped ladies. He was a natural for the job. Despite their poor histories with men, each of those women trusted him and accepted his comfort when they needed it. Don soothed them with hugs and understanding words as easily as his son had.

There was no problem finding suitable staff as I had so many people already fully trained in my techniques and trained more in each dojo, always selecting those with innovative ability.

So by the time the French dojo, originally planned as fourth, was ready for business it had become my tenth to open.

Chapter 27

The French Dojo

Finally, the French dojo was ready. I tried to persuade Fermina to come with us, but she wasn't interested.

The classes had been booked out for months ahead. I took five hundred experienced teachers with me so nobody would be overworked. All my people had been brushing up on their French so they could carry a conversation about more than martial arts. We had a surprising number of staff who were fluent in several languages and always eager to expand their vocabularies.

The site was glorious and already attracting many tourists. The fresh air of the town so salubrious after the sickening airport and traffic fumes, it was an actual pleasure to breathe deeply, after we had coughed out the mucky dregs and carbonic acid at the bottom of our lungs.

My futuristic ring roads had turned out beautifully. Both with the translucent whiteness of moonstone, shot with chatoyance, they attracted the eye without producing glare. The traffic road was a little closer to shore than the higher pedestrian way and each was unsupported, except at the places where they joined the mainland at the town and university and the short turn-offs connecting to the towers.

The lake was encircled by a wide galenite mesh shelf built up with soil and planted out with Melaleuca and a variety of colorful plants. There was another high pedestrian walkway above this garden. Both footpaths had regular canine comfort stations, L-shaped in profile, to wean the dogs off trees. Every tree in the town also had been ringed by CCSs to immediately remove both offerings and stink.

My dojo tower was enormous. The full width circular martial arts rooms could easily take 50,000 people each, 60,000 at a squeeze. The ceilings were thirty feet high and the walls lined with giant Vid screens which would relay images of teachers and assistants showing each kata move much larger than life-sized.

All the usual features were there and 15,500 women had already moved in with their children and some mothers. Even a few mothers-in-law who didn't wish to be the butts of their sons' anger when they discovered their wives had left. I hadn't realized that Europeans were so close to their parents.

The women had not appeared en masse, but had been gathering for over a week and had been housed at Galen. Another nine thousand had simply stayed at Galen which satisfied all their immediate needs.

Grandfathers also had been part of the family exodus, but Maggie refused to allow them to move in with the mothers and children. It was so obvious even to a non-mind-reader that they hoped for an all-expenses-paid holiday in this lovely place. As the olds usually owned the family home, Maggie offered them legal aid to have the abuser evicted, or the couple could move directly to Galen and the house be sold.

As the older people had allowed the abuse to continue in their home, they were not considered suitable support to help the woman make a fresh start with her children, and their help was definitely not required as child-minders. Galen children didn't waste their time being minded—they were always learning something.

In other cases, the grandmothers had also been subjected to abuse when trying to defend their daughters and grandchildren.

Emil, Lorna and I didn't get involved in that side, leaving it up to Maggie and her people to handle. She was the only one who knew the truth of each situation. But nobody was getting a free holiday at our expense.

The children had often brought along pets to keep them safe from a reprisal. Maggie had always made separate arrangements for those as I couldn't have frightened animals running loose in a dojo full of strangers. Most of the animals were already acclimatized to and settled into the Galen routine.

The children were allowed daily visits with their pets in a safe area. Caged rodents, reptiles and birds, and tanked fish, were the only creatures allowed in the rooms. 'Porting cage floor liners were issued for hygiene purposes.

All this was interesting, but my area of concern was the martial arts.

* * *

But first, there was the media ordeal to get through.

The European reporters were even worse than the American variety. They tried to raise some kind of scandal about poor orphan me and my lack of parental protection, then about all the suspicious adults who surrounded and apparently controlled me.

I became infuriated.

"One more stupid question about who looks after me or controls me, and I will have the enquirer and whatever media he or she represents banned for life from my dojos and presence.

"I am a tough, six-year-old kid. I am a prodigy, currently working on several university degree courses. I am fluent and literate in over a dozen languages and am picking up more. That means I have a great deal of intelligence. I also have street smarts. Nobody takes advantage of me.

"My adoptive mother and I are close; she sensibly prefers to stay in the background, away from the media attention which I cannot avoid.

"I am far too young to be interesting to your audience except as an anomaly. I don't have a sex life; I don't party. I don't follow modern music trends, rarely watch movies or videos and never TV.

"I am boringly busy with my studies when I'm not actively teaching martial arts, exercising or eating. I don't have anything in common with other children. I live surrounded by adults who are my friends and employees.

"I am a master of martial arts. Nobody messes with me."

* * *

Emil took over answering questions after that. The reporters became excited when they noticed Lorna's engagement ring. That was something their audience could relate to.

Paul and I left to have a quiet private meal and prepare for our first class. I needed to meditate to calm myself before eating. I hate it when the media stirs me enough to cause an emotional reaction. I am terrified at what I might have blurted out that could end my new life—end my life completely, in fact, as Typhon wouldn't allow me to live afterwards.

Only Paul's reassuring hand pressing on my shoulder had restrained me. In future I should take some Rescue® Remedy before facing the media. Better to be calm and centered beforehand than to need calming afterwards.

* * *

Our martial arts room was packed with 45,000 paying students, some invited freebies, 9,000 women and a few hundred of their children. Paying guests get preference. The remaining women would be fitted into later classes.

Standing on a central rostrum, I gave a short version of the preconceptions speech beforehand, stressed the importance of precise movements, then began the first savate kata, two moves at a time, adding in two more at each repeat.

My 310 assistants roamed the floor, correcting stance while the vid screens replayed my movements. We had given up the apple rewards before Buenos Aires as too messy for a large group and rather time consuming.

Paul and I noticed her immediately and most of my other helpers homed in too. One of the fiftyish grandmothers had Paul's full proprioception gift and was making each move perfectly from the outset. Don's mother was French, so this woman could be part of the same family. And yes, there was a younger woman near her who was almost as good.

Emil beamed at me, pleased to have started his own collection of people with perfect stance.

I stood grinning on my little dais as Paul took on Mum and Emil attacked the daughter after we'd been through the kata just once. Both interactions were displayed on the screens.

Emil hadn't witnessed Ron's strong reaction when first attacked so almost had his jaw broken with her spectacular kick to his face. I'm sure his fingers were bruised as he caught her foot, released it and returned her a slow kick to the other shin. Quick on the uptake, she sparred with him while the vid replayed her great kick from several viewpoints.

Paul managed to project friendliness at the outset as he sparred with Mom, who hugged him afterwards. The daughter wept easily as she sparred, grinning proudly at the French champion she had almost knocked out.

I gave a short version of my breakthrough speech and continued dancing the kata. At the second full repetition, the breakthroughs started coming regularly and all my assistants were soon busy sparring with the excited tyros as the two special ladies helped correct stance.

Mom's latest correctee suddenly had it. Mum smiled and feinted at him and they sparred together a while. The daughter didn't take much longer and shortly everybody seemed to be sparring with someone.

Before the fourth repetition was complete, Maggie told me via my earpiece, that every student had crossed the barrier. Her complete awareness of everything in the room made a huge contribution to our speed and efficiency.

To allow the shyer, less pushy students to learn to recognize perfect form in others, I'd had to restrain the eager beavers from helping more people break through after they had aided four students each. The happy excitement soon encouraged everyone to develop and show their skills.

Manon and her daughter, Iseline inspired the class so greatly that we had completed the first day's work before the second break.

Everybody was now moving rapidly and most were already approaching, or at, low silver level. The literature detailing the rules and requirements at the various levels had been distributed at registration and Maggie had already tested each person on them. This time there would be no annoying delays while students learned these essentials.

We played the tapes of my bouts with the French champions before the break to give the students something to think about while eating. They caused considerable excitement. Apparently few people had really believed Emil's stories of my expertise.

* * *

I had deliberately saved all the kata with new innovative moves until the end so I could explain the circumstances which had inspired each one. We went straight into them after the meal. Paul and Emil gave commentaries on their inventions and several other people spoke about their own or a friend's discoveries. Julius, Gemina and other innovators had taped their stories to explain what had inspired them.

I interspersed the innovative moves with those including the more difficult spins and Decalage sidesteps, and allowed the class plenty of sparring time to try out the new moves outside of the kata format as they began to compose and choreograph their themed test pieces.

The local University had agreed to lend their teachers to help with our savate judging. Each of the ruling Savate associations had also sent representatives. I was certain most of them and other savate officials were taking my class incognito to check out the competition.

Chapter 28

Dareau

I was surprised when Emil finally located and brought me the young boy Dareau to partner for his choreographed routine. Maggie had been correct—we were almost twins, with the same build and coloring. Though looking out for him, I hadn't noticed Dareau during the day as he had hidden behind the taller bodies. He had been the third person to break through today and remained third or fourth at each kata. Dareau was seven, rather shy, and had been taking savate and taekwondo for three years. And he was good.

He wanted me to use a few of the moves I had shown in the tapes as he had thought up answers to them. At our first run-through, his attempted responses came close, but didn't quite work.

Emil, who had stayed to watch, encouraged jubilantly. "Ah, my boy, you've already done better than I ever managed with la Tabanita. You will be the one to avenge my honor and return pride to France."

"Don't be so melodramatic, Emil. This isn't a fight. We're just trying to produce an effective routine. And Dareau has the advantage of matching my build, youth and energy." I grinned cheekily. "He's not a doddering old fogey with fixed ideas as you were when we fought."

"Old fogey! You're confusing me with Julius."

"I'm not the one approaching senility here."

"Senility! Senility! I'm not yet twenty-five!"

"That's still four times older than me. You must have the early onset variety then. But don't worry; take Turmeric every day and do lots of crosswords to keep your brain active, and you could still beat it."

Dareau looked shocked and confused at our teasing and my disrespect for the French champion.

"Emil, we're being disruptive. Dareau can't concentrate on his work and he's too polite to interrupt us, so let's save the comments till later."

We had gathered a large group of interested spectators.

Paul had noticed the problem. "Taj, why don't you take Dareau somewhere more private to work out his routine?"

"Good idea. Thanks Paul."

* * *

We went to one of the empty small rooms. Dareau suggested a few apparently minor changes to my moves, and suddenly had concocted an entirely new series of five innovative moves which perfectly fitted with the ideas he had originally planned to use.

"That's very clever, Dareau. But I think we should trade roles. You're supposed to be the star of this piece, not me. You should be the one doing the more spectacular flying attacks while I do the groundwork."

"I didn't think you'd be interested in the duller work, and I do need you to be my partner as no else fits or knows your moves."

"Dareau, I don't need to be the star of the show all the time. Your partner, should just be a prop. This is your test, your choreography, and you should shine as much as possible. I bet you already know all my moves too."

He nodded shyly. "Okay, let's reverse."

We did and went through the routine several times. The beginning was dull, but Dareau fixed it with a vault onto my shoulders and a somersault off my head, to attack from behind as I spun around to face him. Immediately he went into the five innovative attacks, to which I gave his five equally innovative defenses.

Then he came up with another invention for the finale. At least eleven innovations in all, plus his versions of the set work. I wasn't certain whether the original vault and somersault would count or not, though I had never seen them used in savate before.

"Your work is brilliant, Dareau. You were already a silver glove before you came to class, weren't you?"

"I thought I should have been, but my dad wouldn't promote me. He decided I needed a few more years' experience first."

"He was wrong to hold you back. He may have feared being accused of favoritism by his other students. Have more confidence in your ability and tell him when you are ready. Have you done any teaching?"

"He allowed me to give a few classes to the beginners, but was annoyed that I was teaching them too much, too quickly for them to absorb it all."

"That's ridiculous. Look how quickly everyone has learnt with me. We'll be graduating 53,000 high silvers today after only one day's tuition. I wouldn't have believed that possible a month ago. Just shows what enthusiasm and encouragement can achieve."

"I'm not as good a teacher as you. I knew nothing about perfect form."

"Very few people do, Dareau. My sensei, Master Prospero, had good proprioception and worked hard his entire life to develop perfect form in each of his martial arts, without anyone else to help him. He searched out people who had made a breakthrough and copied their movements in that kata until he broke through too. He noticed very early that I also had great proprioception and worked with it, developing it further so I soon achieved perfect form too.

"My big break was finding Paul and Ron. Paul has perfect proprioception; Ron and their siblings have a close to perfect type which needed to be instructed at first. The two women who broke through before you also have it. Each of their bodies recognizes perfect form and strives to copy it. They're the reason for my sudden teaching success.

"As you're not working with your dad, I'd like you to come and work here whenever you can as one of my assistants, at the same rate of pay as the adults. You could also transfer to the Galen school next door and continue with schooling at your own pace.

"Like me, you're very bright. I never attended school. I was tutored at home till I reached University entrance level, and have been studying university degree courses by computer ever since, usually four or more at a time as they won't telescope most of the subjects. You could do the same and not waste your early years being just a child playing at life."

Dareau's face lit up. He was so hungry to learn more.

"I will need to have my father's permission. He may not approve."

"He's here, doing the class now, isn't he?"

"Yes."

Well, introduce him to Emil and Paul. They should be able to persuade him. And if they can't, there's nothing to stop your joining Galen by yourself and coming to work here.

"Galen will provide you with a second set of parents who will be interested in your progress and won't hold you back in any way. Emil and others will also take a paternal interest in you. In fact Emil already seems to believe that he personally discovered you."

"Now, what is your theme?"

"'Surprises'."

"Very appropriate. Have you thought of a costume style?"

"I'd like us both dressed alike in a bright diamond-patterned Harlequin-type body suit with a hood and facemask so nobody could tell us apart except by color."

"Sounds great. Do you want multicolored diamonds or just two colors? And how big?"

He chose eight shades each of blue or red in eight-centimeter high diamonds and Maggie produced them immediately. I often wear red, so chose the blue this time, stripped and changed. Dareau was more self-conscious—he turned his back to change.

When he was ready, I called to Maggie, who was wired into every room as well as being connected to my ear piece: "Maggie, ask Paul and Emil to prepare the judges for us, please."

"Can we run on, as if I'm chasing you, Taj? Then, when you stop, I'll jump you, you'll spin and we go straight into the routine."

"Great idea, we'll do that."

* * *

My dais had sunk into the floor and about 200 judges sat around the large circle. The other students, press and some visitors were seated on amphitheatered steps to watch, while the remaining students continued to work on finessing their routines further back near the walls.

There was a wide clear passage to the stage. I ran down it, ducking and weaving, with Dareau in hot pursuit, then stopped and looked around as if confused. He leapt and landed on me and we worked through our little dance. The room was quiet for a minute before the applause broke out.

Dareau and I stood silent, still masked, waiting for the judgment. As marks were input straight to a computer interface, it didn't take long. Maggie had entered us simply as Blue and Red.

Red won a perfect score from every judge, with high commendations for spectacle, originality and so many innovations, whereas Blue was marked down and told to try harder next time.

Maggie raised my dais and I bowed in a sweeping circle to the judges. Emil, Paul, his sisters and others who knew me well were grinning widely, waiting to hear my comments.

I removed my hood and mask. "Thank you gentlemen and ladies. I am so glad that you enjoyed Dareau's excellent choreography and appreciated his numerous wonderful innovations. I am surprised though that you marked me as if I was a competing student.

"There are always two persons in each routine, but only one is responsible for choreography. The partner is simply a prop. It may have been appropriate for you to comment on how well we worked together as we had only just met, but that is all. I'd be interested to learn in which areas you think I should try harder. There is no justification for such a remark.

"I've heard of ageist prejudice. But this is the first time I have encountered bias against a very talented young boy. All who down-marked Blue, will have their judgments discounted. Maggie will keep note if you judge unfairly again and you will be removed from the panel. I will not tolerate prejudice or favoritism in my dojo. Please try to remain impartial."

Emil and Paul both approached us then and I could return to being just a kid again as Emil grabbed me up and went into his exuberant attempting-to-kiss-every-centimeter-of-my-face routine as I tried to return the favor. He then did the same to a surprised but pleased Dareau.

Others came to congratulate Dareau and give him his certificate while my guys and I retired to a private sitting room. Maggie 'ported in a very startled Sevan Thibault.

"Monsieur Thibault, you just appeared on the judging panel did you not?" asked Paul.

"You know I did."

"Despite knowing your son would be showing his choreography?"

"Yes."

You hold high positions in several savate organizations, so you would know all the relevant rules, correct?"

"Yes."

"The conflict of interest you created by judging in your son's case disqualifies you from ever judging in any savate competition again."

The man actually sneered. "Little rules like that do not matter."

"Because you are such an important man?"

"That is correct."

"Actually, no. You will immediately resign from every position you hold in any savate organization."

"Why should I?"

"To save yourself a long jail sentence for embezzlement, blackmail and concealing various crimes."

"I deny every charge."

"Actually, Monsieur Thibault, you have already admitted to those crimes and your blackmail material has been removed from your hiding places. So your cohorts have nothing further to fear from you and will no longer obey you."

He glared at me. "What are you talking about child?"

"Our doorway security. The Galen computer runs that by reading people's souls and sometimes their minds. Your soul is very ugly, but you are not innately violent, so were allowed in. But Maggie read your mind and decided that she couldn't allow you to continue to pollute a martial art that was important to me and the battered ladies who learn it as their first step into a new life.

"There is a saying: 'a girl becomes a woman when she has a child; a boy becomes a man when he defeats his father.' The corollary of that is that a father who is so weak as to restrict his son's development for fear of being surpassed, has already unmanned himself.

"Dareau still loves and respects you, but he is very resentful of your holding him back. I have offered him a job here where he can also continue his schooling and he is eager to do that. With his newfound confidence, you will be able to restrain him no longer. You also cannot forcibly remove him from a Galen building. If you try Maggie will simply move you outside and not permit re-entry.

"I want your written resignations within a half hour or I will give the story to the media. We have a load of reporters inside, all hungry for a juicy scandal. When Dareau comes to you, congratulate him and wish him well and I'll allow you to complete my course and leave. You have made so many enemies that I doubt anyone will ever vote you into office again."

* * *

Like most bullies, Sevan Thibault was a coward. He complied with our demands and Dareau moved out of the room he shared with his father into an apartment with several young Evans boys who were also working as assistants.

I received apologies from each judge who had under-marked Blue and his thanks both for returning and thus negating blackmail material and removing Sevan from power. We had so many Savate officials present that they made a quorum and were able to vote in someone more progressive into each of the vacated positions.

Apparently Dareau's mother Violaine had left her verbally abusive husband years ago. He had charged her with abandonment and gained full custody of their son. She had been too afraid to fight him.

Now she was in Galen after escaping a second abusive husband, taking her twin daughters with her. She'd had therapy, had put her life in order, and was eager to resume a relationship with her son.

Dareau was less sure about that, but soon warmed to her and especially to his new sisters. But that was all further down the track.

* * *

There were a lot more student innovations made in savate and the rest of the judging proceeded without incident. I was happy to get 86 new assistants from that first class and almost 120 innovations, mostly fairly minor, but also a few that were quite impressive.

With Lorna now spending most of her free time with Emil, we had moved another Evans sister, Colleen, into my suite as chaperone because I needed both my P.A.s Ron and Paul with me.

Chapter 29

A Snub & Honors

My courses were getting a lot of publicity worldwide. Julius called and advised that I had been proposed as a BJJ master candidate and that each current master outside of the ruling family had concurred in my appointment. There was a lot of speculation in the press as to whether I would be accepted.

Maggie said that two younger members of the ruling family had attended my courses but the media had not picked up on this. I wasn't contacted by any BJJ official and had no idea how their elimination or confirmation process worked.

Of course I wanted my expertise to be recognized. And I especially wanted my innovations to be officially acknowledged and accepted into the BJJ lexicon.

* * *

Then each of the French Savate associations conspired to award me a combined honor for services to the art—golden gloves, a specially commissioned gold medal and a certificate. These were presented before the choreography tests one day without any advance warning, though Emil had known. I figured that this was the reason he had been avoiding me the previous week.

I was pleased and happy to have my contribution to the art recognized.

The following week I received a letter in the mail from the BJJ authorities thanking me for my contributions to their art. And that was all. Two days later they announced this to the media in a press conference. One reporter asked when I might receive my master's belt.

"When she has fulfilled all the requirements, we may review her case, but at present little girls are not eligible for mastership."

* * *

I was very disappointed, but all my friends and apparently most of the world's martial arts societies were really angry that I had been snubbed and robbed of a deserved honor.

I received eighteen mastership awards and belts over the following month for martial arts which had never before had a master status. There were also a combined Karate Master's award and a combined Jiu Jutsu Mastery Achievement award. I don't think any martial art society failed to honor me. It was overwhelming.

All the individual non-family BJJ masters, including two very elderly men who had not taken my course, sent me their masters' belts and vowed for the next year, to wear instead the child's gray belt to show me their support. That gesture touched me deeply.

* * *

We had been in France for over two months. Feeling burnt out and wired tight, I was eager to return home to recuperate and unwind quietly. Most of our assistants had already returned to the US. A few were traveling around Europe.

Paul accompanied me while I shopped in our stores, looking for more baby yarn as I had completed four layettes and two ring shawls. Knitting soothes me. I found what I wanted, then looked at the hand-crafted jewelry, searching for a present for Fermina.

I bought some stunning gold chains, with matching bracelets, pins and earrings, a few having pavé diamond accents. My attention was caught by a man's gold ring. It featured a black onyx oval on a raised rectangular platform with pavé diamonds—a single row all around the oval with three extras in each corner. It was Paul's size, so I bought that too.

Back at the apartment I climbed onto his lap, took his left hand and slipped the ring onto his engagement finger.

"For you, Paul."

His face melted. Paul reached up and removed a long simple gold chain from his neck. I had noticed it weeks before and thought it might carry a St Christopher's medallion.

Instead, there was a small ring threaded onto the chain, too small for him, but too large for me. He placed the chain over my head. It almost reached my knees.

"This should fit you when you're old enough, Taj."

It was a very narrow convex gold ring, with just three lines of teensy pavé diamonds all around. Very simple, very beautiful. Inside it was engraved: 'waiting for you'. I think I melted too.

Paul brought a blue jeweler's box from his pocket. "These you can wear now."

Inside were a pair of earrings made to curve around the ear lobe and attach with a little pressure front and back. They were hollow to keep weight down and also set with swirls of pavé diamonds. Paul knew I could not have my ears pierced.

"They're beautiful. Thank you."

We had a hug and I kissed his cheek again. Paul kissed my forehead as usual. Then both feeling rather self-conscious, we went to the cafeteria for a snack. I wore the chain doubled around my neck, with a little clip to keep the two strands in place, but left the earrings for a dress-up occasion.

* * *

We had discovered and trained over 2500 new assistants and teachers for Emil. More innovative students were being found at every course.

Manon had indeed proved to be distantly related to Don's mother. Although she'd had only two children herself, Manon had seven siblings, each with large families. Iseline already had five children of her own, which was why Manon had been helping out. Emil had been informed of the pheromone problem and given access to the curative toiletry range. He could trace down the other family members at leisure.

* * *

Tomorrow we would visit the Paris galleries to see my favorite art pieces one last time before flying home. We had already taken a few breaks in Paris, always wearing the Galen breathers, as after being accustomed to our beautiful clean environs, outside air now tasted like rancid sewage. Paul and others of our party had visited the famous cabarets; I was interested only in the art.

Maggie would 'port our major luggage home so we wouldn't be burdened with more than a take-on bag each. Most of us were quite happy for her to 'port them wherever they wished to go, but the idea of instantaneous transfer made me nervous; I preferred to travel the conventional slow way.

The Louvre had impressed me greatly, especially the da Vincis.

It was difficult to get close enough to have a good look at the Mona Lisa in her climate-controlled bulletproof glass case. Besides the tourists, there were dozens of painters cluttering the floor, with their folding chairs and easels, trying to copy the world's most famous portrait. I never understood how they could see enough of it to do that. Perhaps it was simply being in the painting's presence that was the attraction.

The Virgin and Child with St Anne was the painting which I liked best. It touched something deep inside me. Though unfinished and faded, it had a sweetness and spontaneity lacking in most of the others which were very overworked.

So many people had retouched and 'freshened' the paintings over the centuries after regular cleaning had removed more than just dirt and cracked old discolored lacquer. Investigation had revealed that the Mona Lisa had originally possessed eyebrows and lashes. None of the depicted people had those anymore and most of the pictures looked very stiff, static even. It was only Leonardo's technique of applying many translucent layers of pigment over a pale undercoat to give skin a glow that had saved his pictures and allowed them any life now.

Some paintings had been taken off their original wooden panels and transferred to canvas because of borers; one had later been returned to another wooden panel. Don't ask me how that would work. All I'm sure of is that it wouldn't benefit Leonardo's brushwork any.

I'd searched out some other Renaissance works at various places, but Leonardo was my favorite. He had definitely been ahead of his time.

Some of the sculpture too, I liked. Some works I just glanced at; others I would stare at for hours. Paul never complained of waiting with me, though his tastes and preferences were probably different to mine.

Chapter 30

The Devastating Blow

Lorna and Emil accompanied Ron, Colleen, Paul and me as I revisited my favorite art works. Then we just strolled along the streets absorbing the ambiance of this great city. We planned to eat in some little restaurant before heading to the airport.

Colleen suddenly laughed and pointed to a really way-out evening dress in a shop window. I believe it was the salon of some avant-garde designer who hoped to shock his way to fame.

The garment didn't even appear to have been fashioned to fit a female figure. It certainly wouldn't have stayed in place without yards of Hollywood tape.

As we gawked I heard the screaming roar of violent acceleration, and immediately raced towards Paul even before I had fully understood that the silver gray sedan was heading straight for him, though it would hit Emil first as he was closer to the kerb.

Paul continued walking ahead, involved in his conversation with Emil, completely oblivious to the death hurtling towards them.

Lorna and Ron further back, were out of danger. They heard my running and stepped aside to give me space.

Paul had been only thirty feet ahead of me.

Time stood still as I flew towards him, terror and my genetic enhancements providing me inhuman speed. Yet it seemed to take forever.

The driver turned his head towards me, startled, then simply vanished.

The bastard knew how to 'port.

I hadn't looked directly at him, but I had seen his face. I would know him again.

I almost tore Emil's right arm off as I wrenched him out of the path of the rocketing vehicle, and threw him back over my head, while stretching to reach Paul who had moved a little further forward, still blind and deaf to his danger.

He was out of my reach.

Time had run out. I couldn't save the man I loved.

I threw a futile punch at the car as it hit him and ploughed into a stone wall.

I was thrown backwards, crashing down on top of Emil.

I leapt up again, grabbed the front of the smoking concertinaed car and heaved, flipping it back onto its roof, exposing the bloody mangled flesh that had been Paul.

Or had it?

It was a human body with Paul's configuration and unique coloring, wearing his clothes, but Paul's spirit had never resided in this unliving meat. I could not be mistaken about that.

I pulled up the left arm which had been caught under him. My ring wasn't on his finger.

I turned him onto his back. He wasn't wearing a breather either.

This wasn't Paul at all. In fact it was nobody. This thing had never been alive, though it was certainly dead now. And it wasn't scented with Paul's distinctive toiletries.

I staggered as I felt Paul's kiss on my forehead, his hands on the sides of my head, smelled his scent in my nostrils. I smiled and reached for him, but there was no-one there.

I'd think that through later.

Finis

Author's Note

Thank you for downloading and reading my story. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing, expanding and rewriting the books.

I have offered this book for free.

If you enjoyed it, please do me the courtesy of reviewing it at the distributor sites, so other readers will also be attracted to my series. As with eBay sellers, eBook authors cannot survive without good feedback.

* * *

The preceding version, Getting to Galen, had been rather rushed to get it published before Reacquaintance and the rest, which I had been intermittently revising, reworking and editing for ten years.

Getting to Galen was an afterthought, a brilliant one. I had originally visualised the series as being written from Mag's/Ro's viewpoint, but when she disappeared, I needed to continue the story from Taj's point of view (POV).

Taj proved so fresh, exciting and fascinating that I wanted to write her backstory. There was a problem with an under-age romance. Today's publishers are strict about not allowing under-age sex to be eroticised. I completely agree with that, but I wasn't sure of my ability to write that sensitive part of Taj's story convincingly at the time, so I just left it out as too heartbreaking for her to think about after her lover died.

Because I had divided the series into two streams from each protagonist's POV, I kept to that system for the other books of the series and it continued growing more and more unwieldy.

So I stopped all work on the series and spent a year reading books on self-editing. I also edited for others as I'd learnt that finding errors or confusion in other writer's stories, helped me to recognise those in my own work.

Finally, I began rewriting to fit the omitted romance into Getting to Galen, planning to add another 30-40 pages to the book before amalgamating my two POV streams.

I had to detail and expand Taj's martial arts history. One thing led to another. I ended up with an additional 500 pages of Taj's story, with many new characters and storylines and it is still developing further.

There was so much new material, Approaching Galen had to become a trilogy, and even so, didn't cover as far as Getting to Galen had. Several of the original chapters ended up in what will be the fifth or sixth book of the series.

Now that it is chronological the story has become tighter. The new characters and events fit in seamlessly and enrich the whole.

I've changed the series title from the original Fragments for Taj's stream and Silent Waiting for Ro's POV. Now it's all The Power of Love, which is more accurate as love is the guiding force throughout, as well as the catalyst for all the growth and changes.

* * *

I've been very pleased lately to have regular popularity surges almost every week, as another reader praises my books on Twitter, Facebook or other social media.

That is gratifying, but it would help me so much more if satisfied readers reviewed my books at Goodreads and the distributor sites, to catch those browsing.

I really would love some feedback, so please review or email me at carlotta.bangs@gmail.com.

