

## COMA DUO

by

### H. BUCK SAWYER

Copyright © 2019 by

H. Buck Sawyer

Smashwords Edition

### Table of Contents

Prolog

Coma Duo

About the Author

PROLOG

Most of us wonder how life on earth can possibly survive the current entrenched power of greed and the seemingly inevitable destruction of human society and much of the biosphere. Armageddon is upon us, and the spark of faith in every hopeful heart prays for the miraculous rescue needed to save us and our children. Though numerous citizens are creating a variety of admirable tactics to promote our survival, the present outlook is dark. Christians embrace the concept that divine help is on the way. Sci-fi fans may hope that the galactic federation will intervene.

I believe that new modes of human consciousness will generate novel powers which may be the key to a happy ending. The culture which blossomed in the 1960's included a marvelous variety of models of expanded awareness. Among the modern physics establishment we now find acceptance of the tenet that consciousness does indeed influence matter. Whether the expression of that principle in the realm of social order will occur first as a function of exceptional individuals or in the form of interpersonal linkage of consciousness we will hopefully soon witness.

One of my favorite hypotheses is that a global brain is coming into existence, with the web of modern telecommunications constituting the planetary counterpart to the neurological web which is the mechanism of individual consciousness. It is interesting to speculate how such a global brain, once born, might activate a commensurate immune system to attack the cancerous individuals who are now afflicting the health and well being of the planet with their propensity for greed and abuse of natural order. My story, Coma Duo, is one vision of how that corrective cleansing might begin in a relatively gentle yet effective manner. The tone is positive and bright. I hope you will enjoy it.

COMA DUO

In her small massage studio Wendy Bailey held her extended hands above her client's relaxed body to seal the healing energy field she'd created around him during the massage session. She then slipped out of the room, closing the door gently after nudging up the volume on the ocean wave sound generator mounted on the studio wall. In the adjacent tiny office she dropped into her seat like a bird landing on a branch. A large asparagus fern filled the air space over the desk, sprigs jumping out of the pot like Tina Turner's hair and creating a one plant jungle which seemed to be coaxing the light green floral wallpaper to come to life.

The small desktop was as spare as a zendo- just the calendar book with her client schedule, one notepad and a phone. After years of losing the battle for orderliness, Wendy had established an armistice by installing enough cupboard space to keep all the flotsam out of sight- sort of a modified Shaker style decor which offered the appearance of order to the eye while hiding within a sinful mess of bills, brochures for dozens of holistic havens, massage vibrators, air ionizers, a collection of ginseng products, incense, and the like.

She hit the speed dial button for her mother on the desk phone while lifting the handset which had been custom made for her as barter by one of her more artistic clients. The phone's mouthpiece was shaped like an ear and its earpiece was shaped like a set of lips whispering a secret. Wendy's mother, Janet, was starting to cook dinner and answered the phone in her kitchen with the foresight to first pick up her wineglass. "Hello."

"Hi, Mom. It's me."

"Oh, hi, honey. You working?"

"Just finished for now. How's the crone world?"

"All right, I guess," answered her mother. "I'm trying to channel the wisdom of my decades into a good fish chowder."

Wendy heard her father, Jed, in the background holler, "Janet, is there some reason you can't remember that I want only chunky peanut butter?" Jed was standing at the pantry cupboard in hopes of making a sandwich. He was holding up an unopened jar of peanut butter, very displeased with it. "So few pleasures left in life. And chunky peanut butter chief among them. Do I have to take over the shopping just to get the kind of peanut butter I need?"

Janet had a ready defense. "They were out of chunky, Jed. It was smooth or nothing."

"No, they're not out of chunky. You just didn't see it. You need to visit the eye doctor before you go completely blind." He started reviewing the contents of the cupboards looking for more peanut butter while Janet turned her attention back to the phone.

"Wendy, honey. Could you try to find your father some chunky peanut butter on your way over here? You're still coming, aren't you?"

"Yes, Beth and I are coming at five thirty. Will he eat organic peanut butter if it's chunky? I'm miffed that I have to pander to his petty crap, but I'd feel better if it were something natural instead of his usual heart clogger."

"Well, he's pretty set on brand loyalty."

Jed interjected loudly "Get Skippy. I'm not eating anything with hippy co-op mouse shit in it."

"Would you mind dear?" asked Janet.

"Yes, I do mind. But I'll get it so you don't have to listen to his stupid whining. I don't know how you tolerate it. It's totally unnecessary to live like that, Mom."

"Thank you dear. It's OK."

"Not by me. Do you need anything else?"

"Oh, no. All set. Thanks."

"OK. See you in a little bit."

"All right, dear. Bye."

Wendy hung up the ear and lips phone and started looking in her cupboards to find a watering cup for the fern. She pulled out a mason jar and removed the bouquet of incense sticks in it, putting them back onto the cabinet shelf since there wasn't a handy alternate container. She waved the empty jar toward the fern. "I'm sorry you're thirsty. Just listen to the waves. Think water. I'll get you a big drink in a few minutes."

She hit another speed dial button. Her friend Beth answered with a peppy, "Beth Walton." Sitting in her cubicle at the Morning Herald office, she looked calm in contrast to the revved up newsbugs in the colony around her. She was dressed with panache and wore gold rim glasses that gave her pretty brown face an academic touch.

"Hey. It's Wendy"

"Hi. How's the flesh?"

"Right now this flesh is hungry. How's the spirit?"

"Restless. Like I should be getting ready for something, but I can't identify it."

"Well, how's the rainmaking?"

"Bert took the pitch for a feature on the dowsing convention in Vermont."

"Nothing like a drought to whip up interest in water."

"Want to go along for a few days? Free room. Exotic people." Beth picked up a small wooden forked dowsing stick from her desk and began making small circles and loops in the air with it.

"Maybe. I had a dowser once, but he kept wanting to move the bed around the room to find the right energy spot. You know, too much of that foofie stuff can blow you right off the beam."

"I'm aware of that risk. Yes, I am. Are we still on for dinner with your parents?"

"Yeah. Can I pick you up at five?"

"Sure. See you then. Bye." Beth hung up, carefully placed the dowsing rod beside the keyboard, and returned to typing a piece about the music program at the state prison.

An hour later Wendy and Beth, en route to the Bailey house, were in a supermarket to get a bottle of wine and the peanut butter. A decent looking young fellow was pondering the extensive selection of peanut butters. Beth stopped a few feet away, but Wendy cruised right up to the guy and deftly created an aikido like gesture to point at one jar while snaring the lad's full attention at close range. "Ever tried this kind?" She covertly took a few sniffing breaths of the air around him.

Lacking the whit for a constructive response, the lad managed, "Geez, I don't think so."

Wendy gave him another chance to reveal some character. "I need a jar for my dad. I thought you might have a recommendation if you're a big PB fan."

"Gee, they're all the same stuff. I was looking for the one with the jelly in it."

"Oh, that's handy. But he doesn't like jelly, though. I'll just try this one. Thanks." She plucked a jar of Skippy chunky style and turned to collect Beth and head for the wine aisle.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the lad, Beth vented her grievance. "Maybe you're just controlled by a strong maternal drive- a mating instinct that you consider to have some organic sanctity that supersedes social propriety."

"What do you mean? I didn't touch him."

"You sniffed him. That's really crude."

"You know, there's a difference between crude and raw. Crude is man made. Raw is natural. And my nose often tells me what is and what is not raw and natural."

"What's wrong with just reading the vibes from a polite distance?"

"That faculty originated for sensing malevolent intent generated by hungry animals who want to kill and eat you. So it's better suited to avoiding trouble than to finding positive stuff."

"Exactly. And what is the most important immediate facet to grasp when checking a guy out? Is he going to be trouble, as most of them are."

"Ease up, will you? I just sniffed him. That's it. Done."

"You're not done. You're always doing it. Honestly, it reminds me of dogs."

"Long conceded to have the Buddha nature."

"If your system works so well, how is it that I have watched you go through years and years of disastrous romances?"

"Drama is the true nature of life, sister – the theme of this entire universe. Maybe my life is a little messy, but I think yours is a little too neat. Too controlled. Too predictable."

The two began surveying the wine section while Beth advanced the debate. "Interesting that you can proclaim spontaneity and casual tolerance, while simultaneously denouncing my position just because it happens to be a preference for order."

Wendy, pointing at the wine shelf, said "Look at that label. I wonder if you can get a print of that painting."

Beth, stepping up to look closely at the bottle, suggested, "That does look like you cavorting with Pan."

Wendy pulled one of the bottles of red off the shelf. "This OK?"

"Have you had it before?"

"No. But I really like that label."

"You are choosing this particular wine based solely on that picture? Just because she's covering Pan with flowers?"

"Hey, you can read all the labels you want. I think my system works fine. If you think your way is better, pick out another one and we'll do a taste test."

"A scientific taste test? Double blind?"

"Sure. But you can't get an expensive one. Keep it under ten bucks."

Beth said, "That's fair." She started reading selected label backs while Wendy continued to roam through the gallery of label art. Two minutes later Beth showed Wendy her candidate: an Italian red promising a complex sequence of flavorful delights.

Wendy held out the peanut butter jar to compare it's label to the wine bottle labels. "Maybe Skippy could boost sales if they hired these wine label guys. Try a picture of a picnic at the lake with flowers all around."

"Could work," agreed Beth. "Come on. Let's go."

Outside, while pulling out of her parking spot, Wendy spotted another hunky guy walking toward the supermarket, his clothing suggesting a marked lack of sophistication. "Yum. I wonder what he likes to eat." She sublimated the thought down to her right foot, giving her Miata a zippy giddy up.

Beth asked, "How could you entertain the prospect of interweaving your spiritual energy with that Neanderthal?"

"You're such a spiritual snob. Very un-Buddhist. You're only reinforcing your illusionary separate identity by being so judgmental. What is the problem with a short intense intermingling of essential core life force? We go our way afterwards the richer for it. No attachment, no looking back. The taste of life. Thank god for birth control- a proper example of the dominion of intellect over creation."

Beth laid out her standard perspective. "You are what you eat, girl, and you are who you eat. If you open yourself to that kind of energy, it becomes part of you."

"Not exactly. A healthy body extracts the nutrients and excretes the rest. The mind or the soul should be able to do the same." The sparring continued on the short drive to the Bailey house. Who better that your best friend to challenge you on being too comfortable with your habits?

At the house, Beth and Wendy walked in the back door, calling out greetings in lieu of knocking. Wendy gave her mother a quick, one-armed hug. Beth put the grocery bag down and pulled out the contents. "Here is the requested brand of mashed Arachis hypogea. And a little something for the adult palates as well." She pulled the two bottles of wine from the bag.

Janet pointed to two wine glasses on the counter. "There's white open in the fridge if you like."

Beth answered, "Well, we actually have a special tasting planned with these two reds. But it needs to be a blind test. I'll open them."

Wendy got two different colored wine glasses from a cabinet. "Mom, would you pour some into these and tell us later which was which?"

"Sure," answered her mother." Is this research for an article, Beth?"

"Nothing at the moment, but it could pop up someday. Right now, I'm really excited to hear about your plans for the trip."

Wendy was opening the red bottles. "Did you get tickets yet?"

Janet hesitated. "Well, it's not definite yet. I was hoping Beth could do a little sales work on Jed for me."

"Ah, that I can do with pleasure. Mexico's an easy sell."

Wendy warned, "Just remember not to say anything about the food. He'll probably ask you how many McDonalds there are."

Janet added, "I think the golf and fishing brochures have just about done the trick. But maybe you could tell him about how nice the people are. He keeps talking about banditos."

Beth addressed both concerns. "You know, I've talked to plenty of people down there about visiting the States, and you'd be surprised at how many of them are worried about getting robbed or shot here."

Janet said, "Well, if there's anybody who could provoke banditos to shoot him, it would be Jed."

Wendy added, "He is a cantankerous bastard, mom. I don't know why you put up with him."

"He's not going to change, and I've learned to pretty much ignore it. Though I was just thinking before you got here how peaceful and pleasant it is while he's asleep."

Beth smiled. "Oh, they're all cherubs when they're asleep."

"They do look oddly innocent when they're sleeping," agreed Wendy.

Janet admonished, "Well, relish the moment. He'll be up and thundering soon."

Beth and Wendy gazed at each other, knowing they were sharing the same thought- i.e., entertaining the possibility of putting Jed briefly into a coma-like state. Wendy said, "Mom, we're going to step into the living room for a quick meditation while you pour the wine samples." Wendy waved her hand at the open bottles and then followed Beth into the living room, where the two women sat down on the floor in lotus positions, facing each other.

Beth asked, "Do you really want to try this?"

"Absolutely. Just for a couple hours. OK? He'll be fine."

"I'm surprised you think we can do it. A human is very different from a dog."

"Not physiologically."

"This feels like a temptation to dance with the dark side."

Wendy reasoned, "We're not doing it for ourselves. So it should be perfectly safe. Let's just try it briefly."

"All right. For your mom and a just cause." The women straightened their backs, closed their eyes, and went into synchronized breathing.

They had, indeed, accomplished a similar feat a couple weeks earlier, as a way of dealing with the obnoxious behavior of a dog that lived next door to Beth. The occasion was a brief Saturday visit from a college friend of the women, who was passing through town and wanted to stop by for a visit with her two toddlers. Being a sunny warm day, Beth wanted the adults to have iced tea on her back deck while the kids played in the yard. The neighbor's neurotic dog, however, was usually tied up next door and in the habit of barking ceaselessly whenever little kids were around.

Wendy had arrived at Beth's that afternoon before the out of town visitors, observed that the neighbor's dog was sleeping, and suggested to Beth that it would be really nice if the dog could just stay asleep for a few hours. Beth casually proposed that they try to accomplish that very feat by generating a telepathic laser-like beam aimed by intention at the dog's brain sleep center.

Each of the two women had a psychic dossier well known to the other. When she was about a year old, Beth had occasionally been able to move toys around without touching them. As an adolescent, Wendy had caused a few episodes of poltergeist phenomena, one involving some of Jed's model cars flying across the room and shattering against the window. Belief is the most potent catalyst for any type of intentional paranormal action, and these two veterans had faith like a diamond. Beth's reference to a laser in her suggestion invoked the spirit of the frontier at which science seems miraculous- a zone where pioneers with visions beget astonishing novelties.

So on that recent sunny Saturday, the two friends had sat down and aimed their stimulated emission of psychic radiation at a pesky little canine twenty feet away. With the precision of a surgeon cutting a cataract, they imagined the tiny sleep cycle control switch in ursa minor's brain being sealed shut. It worked perfectly. The visiting toddlers arrived a bit later and played happily in the yard for a couple hours while the adults chatted in peace, and the dog slumbered on.

After the company left, Wendy and Beth had sat down together, synchronized their psychic laser effect again, and deftly reactivated the dog's siesta switch to wake it up. A minute later the dog was up and stretching. Wendy walked across the lawn and patted the dog, checking for any visible indication of side effects from the experiment. But the dog seemed alert, perky and responsive to the attention. No harm done.

Now with visions of Jed's neural reticular activating mechanism being suspended in deep sleep mode, the two conjurors reenacted their telepathic touch and froze his wakeup circuitry with the same efficacy that the Brothers Grimm fairy sisterhood had used to knock out Sleeping Beauty. A minute later Beth and Wendy opened their eyes and felt their laser bond dissipating, passing like a neutrino trail in a cloud chamber. Intuited recognition of their success spawned twin smiles, starting in their irises, dancing like zygotes on speed, then spreading like a prairie breeze across their facial musculature. They stood up and flowed into the kitchen as though born on an escalator of champagne bubbles.

Janet looked at the two grinning elves. "I don't know if you can test wine properly if you're already that loopy, dear. You're not doing cocaine again I hope."

"No, Mom. No drugs. Just envisioning what a pleasant world this could be with fewer barking dogs."

"Janet, does Jed usually wake from his nap at the same time every day?" queried Beth.

"Just about now, fairly regularly. He's a man who likes a regular schedule."

"Right. Well, let's try some wine in the meantime. Shall we?" Wendy proposed.

Janet pointed to the two full glasses on the counter, one glass white, one blue. "Can I tell you which one I thought was better?"

"Not yet," ruled Beth. "Wouldn't want you to influence the other tasters. Everybody has to decide first, then we tell."

The three women proceeded to prepare the dinner while sampling the wines and flowing into easy, casual conversation. An hour later, they were loading the dishwasher and putting leftovers away. Beth announced her departure. "Well, I need to get going, Janet. This has been about the nicest dinner I ever had here."

"Yes, a little different from the usual fractious gristle."

Wendy said, "Yeah, I feel like I had a chance to really soak in your energy, Mom. Maybe we should do this without him next time too."

Janet gave her a warm hug. "It was sweet, indeed." She paused a moment, then offered, "We should be checking your father again to see if he's still breathing OK."

Beth agreed, "Yes, that would be prudent. Wendy, maybe we should wake him up before we leave."

Wendy speculated, "Gee, you know Mom hasn't had a break from him for about ten years. I think a long restorative sleep could be a blessing for both of them. I'll stay here tonight and monitor him."

Janet asked "Can you wake him up by yourself if Beth's not here?"

"You remember the stuff I used to do as a kid, right? Floating things across the room?"

"Of course. Who could ever forget witnessing the law of gravity being overruled?"

"Well, it's a similar sort of thing. I'll wake him up tomorrow if he doesn't wake up on his own. So, Beth, would you like a ride home now?"

Beth was already getting her coat. "That would be great. Thanks."

In the car and getting seat belts on, Beth said, "Your mom's a real sweetheart. It's neat to think we gave her a short reprieve from the little tyrant."

"Yeah, and a permanent liberation would be even better."

"She could have divorced him long ago."

"She won't even discuss it." Wendy started the engine.

"Maybe down deep she believes that discomfort purifies the soul."

"A few days without Jed around might change that premise."

"So you would consider barring a soul from its chosen place of experience? I already feel like we've sinned against the cosmic order just putting him out for a little while."

"He's just asleep. What the hell's wrong with that? It's a normal state."

Beth pondered the ethical perspective. "There's nothing wrong with being asleep. There's nothing wrong with being dead. But we do all agree that making someone else dead is very bad. And on a smaller scale, keeping someone else asleep is immoral."

Wendy the pragmatist said, "There are hierarchies of morality, girl. This time, justice rules. Down with the troublemakers."

"Its not that simple. And I don't feel qualified for taking on the role of being the judge."

"Come on. This is the perfect sentence. It's mercy in action. You just put the guy to sleep. Bango. Trouble gone."

"Temporarily."

"I'll take it for now."

"You know, you might find out the karma's just piling up while the guy's out. So when he wakes up, things get really messy."

Wendy had a quick response. "If a guy's that much trouble, he just shouldn't ever wake up. Permanent coma."

"Well, how about just until we get a sure cure for a bad attitude?"

Wendy imagined that wonderful outcome. "Hey, if that's how you want to see it, fine. Temporary coma until we can cure the scum. So let's try it."

"We are trying it."

"But I want to try it on someone else. A real troublemaker, not just a powerless irritant. How about some bastard who really deserves a long nap?"

"I think you're getting lured into the dark side," warned Beth. "You think you're serving justice, but we don't know what the real values are in this game. You want to snuff out another being's freedom."

"Hey, I'm willing to give it a shot. I'm gonna bet that freeing millions of people from some peckerhead dictator is justice, pure and simple."

"So, what exactly are you proposing?"

"We develop this talent, practice a little bit, then head for the front lines."

Beth was hesitant. "I need to think about it. I'm not sure you can create real peace by fighting someone. You may displace them, but if you haven't changed the underlying factors, some other bully is going to grab the flag with a vengeance, and then you'll get a worse mess than before."

"Hey, this thing is reversible. We're not killing anybody. So if it looks like it isn't working out, we just wake him up, and he goes back to business as usual."

"I suppose there is that safety valve," Beth allowed. Wendy slowed down and pulled the car over in front of Beth's building just as a good looking fellow walked by on the sidewalk. Wendy let out a low growling sound. "Ooh, that looks tasty. Think we could put him in some kind of trance?"

Beth chastised, "I'm sure you'd rather raise your chakra focus up above lust, especially in light of your proposal that we become judges. We're going to need superior insight and very clear intuitive faculties if we're going to try this."

"Sorry. You're right. At the moment. But I would like to add that I think you've never realized the spiritual potential of sex as the direct experience of the primal creative energy- our connection to the holy big bang."

"Many roads lead to the center, sister. I guess I find myself more in tune with gravity than the big bang as the way back for me."

The women hugged each other goodnight.

Wendy said, "Goodnight. Tomorrow we start planning."

"So be it. Good night, fire woman."

The next evening at about 6 PM, Wendy went to Beth's office work area at the newspaper building to pick her up. The office was quiet, since most of the staff had left. Beth was still typing in her cubicle as Wendy stepped in and said, "Hi. Need more time to finish something?"

"No, I'm set. Thanks." She handed Wendy a slip of paper. "I did clip your horoscope for today. Here. Check it out."

While Beth shut off her computer for the night, Wendy read the horoscope, first disclaiming, "You know that I think this is a bunch of crap. To claim that one twelfth of the population is going to experience the same thing on a given day is ridiculous."

"That may be. But research reveals that more people read that little horoscope than any other part of the paper." Beth picked up her briefcase and slid the laptop in.

"Sure. The news is chaos, so they grab for a ray of hope. They want to believe that there's some kind of order and purpose to life, and that there's some chance of figuring out what the deal is."

"Hey, I'm not disagreeing with you on the content. It's usually pure pulp. But today, by some strange coincidence, yours says that 'adventures coming into view offer expression of latent capabilities.' Timely, don't you think?"

"Yeah, that is neat. I'll take it as a good sign. Thanks."

In the car, Beth and Wendy were just pulling out from the parking space, and the radio station that Wendy had been listening to on the way over was still pushing out the evening news like a sausage grinder trying to convert the day's disasters into something palatable when the newscaster's statement snared their attention.

"...in response to the allegations from the Carter Center, the government of Boliguay claims that funds for the national children's hospital were simply being invested to provide a permanent endowment to operate the facility."

Wendy punched the radio off. "That scumbag. Did you hear about this guy? He diverted eighty million bucks from a children's hospital fund into his brother's mining operation."

"That's our man," announced Beth.

"Meaning?"

"He's the guy we go after. Coup de snooze."

"You're suggesting that we go to Boliguay and try to put their president into a coma?"

"That's right. That is our mission. I'll get us press credentials from the paper to provide a cover. How's your Spanish, señorita?"

"Un poco. El sueño del Diablo."

"Good. Mine's fair and we can brush up before we go."

A short time later the two women were seated in a modest restaurant, had just ordered, and were turning their attention back to discussing their enterprise. Beth asked, "Don't you think we should practice this little trick a few more times before taking it on the road?"

"We could. But I think it's like dowsing. Once you get it, you can do it anywhere."

"Not the same at all. Some people can be hypnotized, some can't. We need to practice on some other people."

"OK. But I don't want to be stirring up any bad karma. We need somebody who doesn't have a family that's going to freak out if he doesn't wake up for a while."

"Right. And someone we can observe without being suspected."

Wendy suggested, "Hey, how about that sports writer at your office who takes a nap every afternoon?"

"Wrong personality type. He's too nice. Better to try someone with a dictatorial attitude."

"My brother comes to mind."

"Hhmm. Your brother. Yes, that could work. And we could tell his wife."

"Well, I don't think we should do that unless she panics. I wouldn't trust her to keep it secret."

"If she freaks, we can just wake him up. How about Saturday morning? He won't miss work, and you can pretend to drop by to borrow something to confirm he's still asleep."

"Sure. He's got a couple of my CD's. I can say I want them back."

Beth was nodding in approval. "OK. So we get together about 6 AM and do the coma thing."

"And drop by the house about 9. He'd be up by then normally."

"Right. We verify that he's still asleep, drive around the corner, and get him out of trance."

"And call a little later to make sure he's OK. Nice, easy plan. Doesn't cause any trouble."

"And it's pretty safe. Sounds good."

A half hour later, the two had nearly finished the meal when Wendy started a fresh topic. "It was very convenient that Tom had to cancel your date tonight. Your schedule doesn't leave much room for improvising."

"I think I weave it all together pretty well. You know, there's nothing wrong with being organized, Wendy."

"Not unless you're compulsive about it."

"Which I definitely am not. My organizing doesn't preclude flexibility. You, on the other hand, resist organization because you don't want to be responsible. Part of you is a little kid who isn't ready to grow up."

"Thank you, doctor," quipped Wendy.

"Use it if you can. The better you understand yourself, the more effective you'll be at helping others."

"Do you see putting some nasty bastard into a coma as helping him?"

Beth said, "In the long run, maybe. But that's not my concern. He declared war. We're the defenders."

"I don't think I'm cut out for battle. Even if the guy's a tyrant, I'm feeling weird about attacking him."

Beth the journalist said, "Try imagining that he killed your parents, raped your sisters, and threw your brothers in prison to take their land."

"Oh, I'm plenty clear on the reasons, but it's still going to feel weird being the enforcer."

"No choice really, girl. The cosmic draft board wants you."

A week later Wendy and Beth were on a plane, flying to San Pazco, Boliguay, via Mexico City. Beth was reading a travelers' guidebook to the country. "Wow. I want to get to these temple ruins north of San Pazco. We can go to the national museum first, get the overview, and then go out to see the real thing."

"I'm a little too worried about the assignment to be thinking about side trips."

"We have to feel the historical context of this place if you want to help without being heavy handed."

"I'm seeing this more as an in and out task. Stick to business. Go home safe and sound. Live to play another round."

Beth insisted "No, no, no, girl. We've got to connect with the spirit of the place. Maybe wake up Quetzalcoatl."

"Are you in denial? This is no time for flaky, fluffy fairy tales. Did you make out a will?"

"I did. I left everything to you."

"That wasn't too practical."

"I thought it set up a nice trans-mortal thread between us. Don't worry. We're going to be just as safe there as we are on this plane. Look at the picture of this temple."

Wendy took the book to look closely at the photos. "That is interesting. Built into the hillside rather than dominating the landscape the way the Inca and Aztec temples did."

By early evening, they had landed in San Pazco, fetched their luggage from the carousel, and were heading to customs. Beth spotted a large photo of the dictator- Uncle Eduardo- on a nearby wall with the caption in Spanish "Bienvenido a Boliguay". She pointed to the poster. "Hey, look. Our man."

"Good picture. Not bad looking."

"Do you feel him though?"

Wendy gave a shiver as she allowed her awareness to pick up Eduardo's vibes. "Aahgg. Kind of like the beginning of a stomach ache."

"Yes. Signals you'd rather not be picking up on."

"Yeah. Yeah. I feel the distraction impulse rising. What's the national drink here?"

"I don't know," said Beth. "But I think I'm ready to find out."

"Let's ask him." Wendy nodded toward a good looking, well dressed air traveler nearby, and the two women veered toward the gentleman.

Wendy ventured, "Perdone, señor. Hablas ingles?"

The man smiled warmly. "Si. English. Welcome to Boliguay. How may I help you?"

Wendy smiled invitingly. "We were wondering if Boliguay has a national drink?"

"National Drink? Si. We call it tangacito. And it would be my pleasure to introduce you to that drink. It was created by Uncle Eduardo himself."

"Oh, really?" she solicited.

"Si. He is very creative."

Beth said, "Very interesting. What's it made from?"

"Well, that is one of his secrets. But I believe it has tangerines and ayahuasca vine among other things."

Beth let her surprise show. "Exotic."

"Yes. They say it helps one to tell the truth."

"Hooh. That could be dangerous," she said, her face quickly registering concern.

Wendy added, "Yeah, I'm not sure this country is ready for too much truth."

The man's smile faded a bit. "That sounds like a foreigner's opinion. I hope you will get a better understanding of our country during your visit. We are working hard to create prosperity for all our people."

Wendy threw out a punch. "Well, what about the hospital money- the children's hospital?"

Beth chided, "Wendy, let's just focus on the positive, shall we? That's the story we want to bring back. The positive."

Inflating his smile again, the man tried, "An excellent approach. No one really wants to hear so much about problems and trouble. People want to hear about answers and progress. Make that your story and your readers will always want more."

Wendy concluded, "Well, we better get a little rest if we're going to find that positive story tomorrow. Hotel time, girl."

Playing his last card, the man offered, "Perhaps I could take you to dinner later. I know the best restaurants."

Beth shut him down. "Thanks. Maybe another time."

"Another time then. Enjoy your visit." He walked off, and the two women moved toward the customs desk, where a short line was moving along nicely. In minutes they had been officially welcomed, passports stamped, and directed graciously toward the currency exchange booth.

The Americans pulled up at the booth with their rolling suitcases in tow. The attendant in a neat uniform with a large BFB logo smiled with her offer of help. Wendy handed her some Traveler's Checks. "Hi. Can you give us some local currency?"

"Si. Un momento, por favor." The money woman tallied the checks and made a quick calculation. "Here is four hundred fifty pesos. Gracias. Enjoy your visit."

Wendy thanked her, took the money and looked at the different denominations of bills. "This looks like him on all the different bills. It's just different pictures. But all Eduardo. Right?"

"Si, señora. Eduardo's face is everywhere. For ten years now, he is on all the money."

Beth said, "Gracias." Wendy stuffed the wad of bills in her purse, and the Americans wheeled their bags toward the street exit, which had above it a large photo of Eduardo beaming a welcome and beckoning with an inviting hand.

Outside, the women approached a line of tired looking taxis. It was night now, and the dark landscape with chunks and splotches of artificial light reminded Beth of the spotty character of a heavily redacted document. Leaning against the first cab and reading a textbook in the dome light was an indigenous-looking driver of pleasant demeanor, perhaps in his early twenties.

"Taxi, señoras?" he sang out while inserting a bookmark.

Wendy "Si. Hablas ingles?"

The young man smiled. "Si, ingles. I speak. You go to hotel now?"

Beth "Si, por favor. La Puerto D'Oro."

"My name is Pedroka," he said while opening the trunk to stow the bags. The women slid into the back seat. A half minute later, Pedroka hopped in the front seat asking, "La Puerto D'Oro. Very nice hotel. Do you come for business?"

Beth explained "We're journalists. Newspaper reporters."

"Ah, si. You will write about the government?"

Wendy answered cautiously. "Yes. And the economy. Is your taxi business good?"

"The taxi business here in the capital is OK. The people with the money work here."

Beth ventured, "Can you talk about the government?"

"I can tell you are good people. It is Ok to talk to you. Most people here are afraid to talk about the government. It is not safe."

Wendy said, "Well, we don't want you to get into trouble. You don't have to say anything. Maybe you could tell us if there are some interesting things to do nearby when we're not working."

"Well, I think you will like to go out to the ruins. I can take you there and tell you much history. I am excellent guide. My family has lived here for a very long time. Long before the Spanish come here."

Wendy was intrigued. "Oh, that would be great. Can we get your phone number?"

"Si. I have a phone. Just remember not to trust any phone here. The police listen to all the phones."

Beth gave Wendy the big sister look. "We're going to be pretty busy, Wen. I think we should keep the focus tight."

Wendy parried, "We need to connect with the history of this place, too, girl. The sooner the better for our project."

Pedroka said, "That is a good idea. You will hear lies when you go to the government. If you want to know the truth about our country, you must leave this city of devils."

Wendy said, "I'd really like to do that. But we have to do some work first. We'll call you soon."

Pedroka slipped into a tour guide persona, giving a patter of commentary on the history of the city as they cruised the two miles into town. At the hotel he got the bags out of the trunk and put them on the sidewalk. He pointed down the street. "My uncle Martino owns that little restaurant- Stella Fiesta. Good food, not too much money."

Beth said warmly "Hey, Great. We'll try it tomorrow. Thanks."

The lad held up his hand, palm facing them. "I will see you soon. I know it will be. Go in peace now."

Wendy said "Thanks, Pedroka. We'll call you."

In a few minutes the tired travelers had checked in and were settling into their hotel room, getting ready to retire. Beth said, "Well, here we are in a country run by a nasty dictator, but it doesn't look too different from any other country I've ever been to."

Wendy sputtered, "That's your read? You just haven't felt it yet. This is an insulated zone- the airport, the hotel. It looks normal, but it's not real. You go out on that balcony and close your eyes and get a real sense of the energy around here."

"I'm too tired. How bout tomorrow?"

"Fine," allowed Wendy. "But just notice what you're doing before you hit the subconscious zone. You're shielding yourself. Totally natural response. But tomorrow you need to open up and take it in."

"All right. You're probably right. Want to do some touring around after we check in with the press office?"

"Definitely. I want to connect with the real people- not just the suits."

Maybe it would be easier to focus on the job if we weren't emotionally caught up."

"You mean- know the facts but not the faces?"

"You could put it that way," replied Beth.

"Why? Why not be freshly aware of the suffering? It could strengthen our resolve if things get tough."

"I'm concerned about having too much understanding of how this political situation came into being. What if some part of their way of being is reflected in this government? Then you could say they deserve it, and it would go against the laws of karma to come from outside and bail 'em out."

Wendy said, "You can always take the 'I'm sorry you deserve that' attitude and walk away thinking you've got the superior cosmic insight into the cause and purpose of suffering. But I think that's just an excuse for wanting to avoid feeling the pain those people are going through."

"Oh, god. I'm having flashbacks to bible school as a kid. The thing about Jesus having to suffer a horrible death despite being all powerful."

"That's the model I'm talking about. For some reason it doesn't work to just parachute in and wave a magic wand to fix things."

Beth sighed. "Oohh. I think I need some booze grease. Want a drink?" She reached into her suitcase and rummaged around.

"You brought a bottle along?"

Beth pulled a plastic flask out of the bag. "Right here in case of sudden need."

"Sure. I'll have a little nightcap with you. Too bad we don't have some of that tangacito.'

Early next morning the two women were at the government press office to get credentials and develop their cover by joining some of the press corps activities. In the briefing room there was a small cluster of reporters, mostly males, sipping coffees and chatting. Some welcomed the two women with a casual nod. Wendy scanned the crew with her psychic radar, but Beth realized what she was thinking about and gave her a stern visual cue to close up her energy field.

A dapper press secretary took the podium, behind which was a large photo of Eduardo striking a thoughtful pose bordering on caricature. "Good morning. Welcome to those who are newly arrived from the United States. Uncle Eduardo is pleased that you will be covering events here. This afternoon Uncle Eduardo will be delivering a short address to celebrate the opening of the new offices of the Banco Nacionale de Boliguay, a building which he designed himself." He went on, slipping into a soft drone well suited to a pablum spout, and he eventually wiped his chin with "...so we will see you this afternoon at one o'clock."

As the reporters started to disperse, looking like refugees wanting something to supplement the morning's thin gruel, one guy came over to talk to the American women, smiling and offering in English, "Good morning. My name is Juan Siblanco, with the Cronica. Buenos Aires. Welcome to the world according to Eduardo. You must have done something very bad to your editor to be sent here."

Wendy shook his hand. "Hi. Wendy Bailey."

Beth followed. "Beth Walton. Hi."

Wendy explained, "We're on a short assignment."

Beth added, "Economic development in Latin America. We're just here for a week or two."

Juan allowed an expression of doubt. "Perhaps. I've been here almost two years. I have seen a lot. There was another woman who came here like you, for a short time, she said. A very pretty young woman. She thought she was lucky when she got an interview with Eduardo a couple days later. But very bad things happened to her. I don't want to scare you, but I want to warn you what can happen to an attractive young woman."

Beth was curious. "OK. So what happened to that woman?"

"Eduardo took her to see an orphanage. Maybe he wanted to look like a nice guy who cared about kids. Then he tried to seduce her, but she didn't want to do that. So he told her he was going to kill the children if she did not give him what he wanted. She was afraid he would really do it, and she could not leave."

Beth grimaced, "God, that's horrible."

"Fortunately, he got tired of her a week later, and he let her go. When he sees you, he may try something like that. I just wanted to warn you. I'm sorry. But this might be a very dangerous place for you."

"Thanks for the telling us," said Wendy. "I think we can handle it."

"I certainly hope so. Well, see you later."

Beth gave a slight raise of her forefinger as a wave. "Yes. Thanks very much for the tip." Juan nodded politely, turned, and walked away.

"Well, that's no big surprise."

"No. Not really," said Wendy. "Good to know how he works."

"Especially since we're going to have to get a good read on him before we can do it."

"Yeah. Well, let's just not do that with him privately. I think we'll get all the taste we need from one or two of his public appearances."

Beth agreed. "Should work. The sooner the better. I think I just lost the feeling that I'm safe because I'm an American."

Wendy smiled bravely. "OK, sister. Time for some fresh air and sunshine."

"Yeah. Let's get out of here."

A minute later the women stepped out of the building like scuba divers making it to the surface with empty tanks. For a while they just breathed in the tropical morning air alive with floral vapors and let the solar benediction reclaim them as citizens of the light. Looking around as sweetness returned to the world, they saw a taxi parked nearby. Wendy led the way over to it and asked "Can you take us to a nice park?"

The driver perked up. "Si. There is a very beautiful park not far. It is by the University. I will take you."

The women got in. "Gracias," said Wendy. "Can you take us by the Stella Fiesta?"

"Si. The Stella Fiesta is very good. You have been there?"

Beth explained "No, not yet. We want to go for lunch today. But we'd like to go to the park for a few minutes first. OK?"

"Si. First the park. My uncle owns Stella Fiesta." He pulled out into the light traffic.

Wendy smiled. "That's interesting. Yesterday we got a ride with a taxi driver who said his uncle owned the restaurant. A tall young man."

"Si. My cousin, Pedroka. Ah. He told me he picked up two American women who want to see some ruins. You are the ones?"

Beth said, "Si. And we do want to see your ruins, but not today. We are still tired from flying. But could you drive us around the city a little bit? Maybe you can tell us about the people here."

Wendy primed him. "We work for an American newspaper. We would like to see how the people of San Pazco are living."

"Si. Si. My name is Tomas. I will show you. You know, in the villages, it is very different from the city. This city is not good for the spirit of the people. It is like a machine." As the cab cruised along, the women did, indeed, see that the sidewalk pedestrians looked drab, quiet, and withdrawn, quite unlike the exuberant and colorful characters who populated the street life in most Latin cultures they were familiar with.

Beth asked him, "Why do you live here then?"

"I live a short way from the city. Because I have the taxi I can drive here and make some money for my family. We have a little farm, and that is where my heart is."

Wendy asked, "How about your cousin?"

"Pedroka stays at the farm sometimes. But he goes to the university to study computers. He will have a good job in the city someday. But then he too wants to live up in the mountains."

Beth wondered, "Because it's cooler there?"

"No, no. He wants to live with our other uncle so he can become a brujo."

"What is a brujo?"

"Brujo is like a priest for the old religion of our people. This uncle is a powerful brujo. He lives in a sacred place on the mountain, near the ruins you have asked to see."

Wendy was excited at the image. "Wow. Is it possible that we could meet your uncle? We're also very interested in local religion."

"No problem. Just last week he said we would meet two American women who want to see him."

Beth pronounced, "That's a good sign."

"I hope so. But I must tell you that he seems to always live close to trouble. He says it is spiritual adventure, but to me it looks like most people who meet him are soon getting into some kind of trouble."

Beth assured him, "That's OK. We definitely want to meet him."

"Oh, yes, you will."

Wendy suggested, "I think we should try do it soon. Can you take us tomorrow?"

"Si. Tomorrow. He travels a lot and you never know when he is going to be home. But if you are supposed to meet him, he will be there."

Later in the afternoon, Wendy and Beth were walking to the site of Eduardo's scheduled appearance to celebrate the opening of the new bank. They approached a building that had been decorated with bunting for the event, including a large picture of Eduardo displayed prominently beside the entrance.

Beth groaned, "God, he has to have his picture everywhere. What an ego."

"That is the whole problem, isn't it? Ego out of control."

The women waved their press passes at the mirror sunglasses masking two stern security guards by the door, one of whom gave a faint nod indicating permission to proceed. Inside the building there was no small number of other security guards, some wielding Uzis. Two of them looked the women over, using their official role as an excuse to ogle the women with little attempt at discretion. One insisted on inspecting Beth's camera bag, standing close to the women while clearly emitting lascivious energy. Wendy gave him a flirty look in the visual equivalent of an aikido throw, turning his aggressive mental thrust into a fall so deftly done that he returned the camera thinking he had advanced his prospects while he suavely gestured the way to the press area.At one side of the large central lobby a raised dais with podium had been set up. About thirty suits were present, a mix of administration officials and bank executives, all males.

Standing off by themselves to survey the room, Beth challenged her compadre, "Why did you give that jerk the sweet look? What a pig."

"If I'm fooling you, maybe I should be looking for acting work. What you call 'the sweet look' throws the bastards off guard by shifting most of their thought process to a section of gray matter the size of a peanut."

"Oh, I thought maybe you just liked the way he smelled."

"No, not at all. Look, you've got to activate your jungle radar, girl. We are surrounded by very large teeth here." The women then headed across the room to join the small, quiet press corps consisting of one TV cameraman with rather funky equipment along with three or four other reporters, including the friendly guy from Buenos Aires, who gave them a brief though silent smile.

Beth got her camera ready, noting in Wendy's ear, "Feels odd to see reporters all quiet instead of gabbing. Must be the imperial protocol here."

Choosing the chameleon response, Wendy just nodded. A minute later, the likely head of the bank stepped up to the podium to begin. "Good afternoon, citizens, and welcome to the opening of the new headquarters of Banco Nacionale de Boliguay. We have worked hard for this day, and we are very proud. We are especially honored to have Uncle Eduardo here to join us to dedicate this building that he himself designed to celebrate the future prosperity of the people of Boliguay. We thank him for leading the campaign to make this bank a vehicle for foreign investment capital to flow into Boliguay. I give you Uncle Eduardo."

From a group of bodyguards who had been hiding him, Eduardo suddenly appeared and mounted the podium while the suits offered polite applause and the security guards all gave loud and sustained yet orderly cheers until stopping instantly when Eduardo raised his finger. "Thank you my countrymen. Thank you. This is a great day for the people of Boliguay."

Beth raised her camera to shoot, and Eduardo immediately beamed a little extra energy at her raised camera. He went on smoothly. "Money is the lifeblood of modern society, and the noble purpose of this dynamic institution -the Banco Nacionale de Boliguay – is to be the heart of our enterprise, to pump that blood to all of our people, to build a strong and prosperous country."

At this point Eduardo paused to offer a dramatic pose for Beth's camera. When she didn't raise her camera to catch the pose, he gestured to make the cue more obvious. Beth understood and quickly popped a couple shots. As he started speaking again, he was looking at Wendy quite a bit, playing up his presentation like a peacock.

"And to further demonstrate the bond between the flow of money and the realization of the dreams of our people, I am pleased to announce that we will soon have new designs for all of our paper currency. And I have agreed to continue to allow my face" (and he struck a few more poses, though all done with the smooth skill of an experienced model) "to endow every denomination of bill with the spirit of my pledge to create prosperity for every citizen of Boliguay."

There was polite applause from the suits, immediately picked up vigorously by the security officers, who cheered loudly until stopping again instantly at the finger signal from Eduardo. Beth saw that Eduardo was looking at Wendy quite a bit. Wendy was reading the same phenomenon with a different scanner, and she started responding with flirtatious smiles while trying to simultaneously convey an impression of being a bit shy as well.

Eduardo was not one of those despots who favored long speeches. In a few minutes he was wrapping up "...the future of our great country. Thank you." The applause began quickly while Eduardo looked as though he might head right over to Wendy.

Beth warned, "Not good. Let's get out of here fast. We shouldn't be seen with him. People could get very suspicious later."

"So right. Go, go, go." They quickly headed for the exit, though Wendy paused just before the door to look back and wave to Eduardo, who was watching her with interest, surprised that she wasn't waiting for him.

The women zipped out of the building and were steaming away from the bank on foot when they were overtaken by a running security officer. "Perdone, señoras. Uncle Eduardo asks why you leave so fast. He would like to speak with you privately for interview at eight o'clock this evening and then to have dinner. You will come?"

Beth answered, "We would like to come. Very kind of him to invite us. We would like to come, but, ah, we cannot come tonight. Maybe tomorrow night."

Wendy added, "Yes, we are so sorry. We have a very important meeting tonight, but we would love to come tomorrow."

The officer was a bit surprised. "No meeting you go to in Boliguay is more important than Uncle Eduardo."

Beth explained, "I am very sorry, but we have to have dinner with the American Ambassador's wife. It is her birthday. We have to go. I am sure Uncle Eduardo will understand. Please tell him to call our hotel to make plans after tonight."

Wendy added, "Thank you, señor. And please tell Eduardo that I think he is a very handsome man. And we love the tangerine drink he created."

"Oh, he will be happy to hear that. I am sure he will call you tomorrow." The officer saluted them and ran back toward the bank.

Beth gawked, "Pardon me, but are you insane? How can anything but severe trouble and probable disaster come from flirting with the devil?"

"You know, he's probably got more of a guarded consciousness than your average male. I thought that making a little connection now might make it easier for us to break in later."

Beth chastised, "Very risky gamble. I don't think we need it, and we definitely need to be very low profile if something happens."

"Oh, something is going to happen. Tonight. Between Uncle Eduardo and his newest fantasy girl. I can't wait to get him in bed."

"You won't be waiting too long. Right now, I think we should find the ambassador's wife and get something organized in case Eduardo calls her with birthday greetings. She should be willing to help a couple of innocent citizens avoid a lascivious dictator."

Wendy popped, "Sure hope so. There's a cab." She flagged the taxi, which pulled right over. The women jumped in quickly.

Beth directed, "American Embassy, por favor. Muy pronto." As the cab pulled out, both women looked back to see if they were being followed. Seeing no sign of pursuit, they both slid down low into the seat and silently tried to integrate the unsettling sense of escalation of danger.

As they walked into the American Embassy compound past a couple of friendly looking young Marines and headed for the reception area, Beth conceded, "Ironic to walk in here feeling grateful for the brute American power that I usually disdain."

Wendy agreed. "Yeah, strange, but it sure feels good right now, doesn't it?"

Inside, the receptionist alluded to that imperial power with a simple "May I help you?"

Wendy said "Hi. We're American citizens – journalists. We were hoping that we could contact the Ambassador's wife."

"Mrs. Davison?"

"Yes. Is she in town at present?"

"No, I'm sorry. She and the Ambassador are away for a few days."

"Away? Like out of the country?"

"No. They are traveling in the country."

Wendy asked "Oh. Where?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't release that information. They'll be back in two days if you'd like to call then."

Beth explained the problem. "Look, we're in a bit of a jam that has nothing to do with government. Uncle Eduardo invited us to see him tonight, and we didn't want to go."

Wendy jumped in, "So we told him we had to go to Mrs. Davison's birthday party. We didn't want to offend him, but we've heard stories about the guy."

"I understand. But I'm not allowed to tell you where they are. They're not within a hundred miles of here."

Beth parried, "OK. Are they with anybody who might be on personal terms with Eduardo? Any way that Eduardo might find out its not her birthday?"

"I have no way of knowing who knows who. The people they usually deal with are obviously people who might know Eduardo."

Beth accepted that no further assistance was forthcoming. "Well, thanks."

Outside the compound on the sidewalk the two women stood poised for action, though waiting a moment for inspiration as to exactly what to do. Wendy concluded, "Well, we've got a birthday to attend at least a hundred miles from here. We'd better get going."

"Yeah. We sure don't want to be seen around here tonight."

A half hour later, the duo stood in their hotel lobby waiting for a cab, wearing outfits suitable for a dinner party. They also had small overnight bags. They were making sure the staff had noticed them. Tomas the young taxi driver entered the lobby and approached them. "Buenos dios. Are you ready?"

Wendy said, "Si. Si. Vamos."

The three hurried out of the lobby. Outside they got into his cab, and he quickly pulled away. Beth relaxed from the formal caricature she had been projecting. "Thank you so much, Tomas. Can you take us out of town somewhere? We can't be seen in San Pazco tonight."

Beth confided, "We told Eduardo that we couldn't see him because we had to have dinner with the American ambassador's wife for her birthday."

Wendy added, "But she's out of town for a few days, so we have to disappear too, at least for this evening."

"Si, you would not want Eduardo to find out you lied. And now maybe you can meet my uncle. Do you want to try to find him?"

"As long as none of Eduardo's people see us, that would be great."

"That will not happen where we are going to go. But if anybody sees you all dressed up they will think something big is happening. We could stop at my house if you want to change your clothes so you will look a little more like local women."

Wendy said, "Good plan. I don't want your uncle to get the wrong idea about who we are."

"That can not happen. My uncle sees the soul."

A half hour later the taxi pulled into the yard of Tomas's family house in the foothills, a modest but tidy compound at the center of a small subsistence farming operation. "We won't stay here long," he advised. "You can change your clothes in the house. I will ask my sister if you can use some of her clothes if you like. And my mother will want to give you some coffee. It's very good coffee from our own land."

Wendy replied, "Gracias. Coffee would be very nice. How far is it to your uncle's house?"

"Only about fifteen minute drive up into the mountains."

Tomas' mother, Marianna, was intrigued at having Americans in her house, but she understood that they wanted to get to her brother's place while the light was good. So she asked only enough questions to convey a sense of her concern for their comfort and safety, then offered to make fresh coffee while they changed into more casual dress. Tomas' sister was pleased that he asked her to lend the women some of her clothes for the outing, and she led them upstairs to her room.

In short order, Wendy and Beth were back in the kitchen, looking a lot more local and feeling as though they were being initiated into the family. Marianna's coffee tasted earthy but sweet and in a few seconds had them wondering how it had been so cleverly imbued with the spirit of a crowing rooster. While sipping, they listened to the family's overview of life on the little farm, laid out for them like a fruit salad poem. Soon they were back in the taxi, waving goodbye to Marianna and heading up into the mountains.

After a while, Tomas segued from talk of farm life into, "You may like to know that my uncle knows Eduardo. They had a little trouble one time. Eduardo wanted to build a house for himself up near my uncle, where there is a lovely lake."

Beth asked, "What happened?"

"My uncle told Eduardo that it was not a good idea for him to build a house there. But, of course, Eduardo did not care what my uncle say. So, the workmen start to build the house, but after two days, they got scared and wouldn't work any more. They say that spirits came to them at night and told them not to go back. Eduardo fired them and got some other guys, but the same thing happened."

"So they just stopped?" asked Beth.

"Not then. One more time Eduardo hired new men and put some soldiers around. The men worked one day, but the next morning they would not work. The captain in charge even said he would shoot them, but his soldiers were scared also, and they would not shoot the workers. When the captain got out his gun to shoot the head workman, another guy grabbed a shovel and killed the captain."

Beth gasped, "And that was the end?"

"Si. After that, no more building."

"Do you know what happened to the guy who killed the captain?"

"Nothing. Nobody would say which guy did it. But Eduardo came up one more time to see my uncle."

Wendy asked, "Wow. What did he do?"

"Well, maybe Kaetamo will like to tell you himself. That's his house with smoke coming from the cooking fire." Tomas pointed ahead to a cabin with smoke rising from the chimney. As they pulled up, they could see a man outside cleaning fish. "That's my Uncle Kaetamo. And he's a good cook with those fish."

Kaetamo waved to greet them as the taxi parked. He was mature but not old, with a vibrant visage. He moved with a lightness in his step that gave the impression he might lift off the ground at any moment. The trio got out of the cab, and Kaetamo gave Tomas a warm hug. "Ola, Tomas. Ola. Good work, boy."

Tomas said, "Como es ta? This is Beth and Wendy." He turned to present the women. "And this is my Uncle Kaetamo."

Kaetamo beamed at the women. "Si. Si. I have been expecting you." He waved toward the work table where there were four fish laid out ready to cook. "I have your dinner ready. Fresh from the lake."

Wendy stepped forward to shake Kaetamo's hand. "Hi. I'm Wendy. This is a beautiful place to live. I feel magic in the air."

Beth took his other hand and felt a warm energy flowing into her. "Ola. We are very pleased to meet you. Tomas has told us some very good stories about you."

"Si. I hope you will have some good stories for me, too. Come inside so we can cook the fish and have some beer." To Wendy he said, "You like the way it smells here, too, no?"

Wendy took a deep breath. "Si. Many different smells. Very rich for the nose."

Kaetamo often gestured creatively while speaking. Beth thought he looked like Picasso doing native American sign language. Wendy thought he looked like an orchestra conductor on mescaline. "The mountain can smell you too," he said at one point. He breathed in deeply while his hands mimicked a blossom arising rapidly from Wendy's solar plexus, which then became the pollen potent cloud of floral scents cavorting down his mountain flank shoulders and into his cave lungs.

Tomas was already collecting the fish and heading inside. The others followed him into the small cabin. Tomas took a station by the little stove and started cooking the fish in a large skillet already heated. Kaetamo got some bottles of beer from a box under the table and opened them, handing one to each guest. He raised his bottle to toast, "Welcome to the sky."

The others raised their bottles, clicked them together, and drank. Wendy closed her eyes to savor the brew "Ooh. Dark and sweet. Do you make it here?"

"I have that pleasure."

Beth added, "Much more dimension than most beer. Really good." She took another sip. "Tomas told us part of the story about the time Eduardo tried to build a house on the lake here. Would you tell us what happened the last time Eduardo came to see you?"

Kaetamo sat down on a little bench. "Si. That was about two years ago. He asked if I could do anything to help him get his house built. He is a smart man. And he knows about different kinds of power. He knew the spirits did not want his house here. I told him that the first time he came."

"So what did you tell him?" asked Wendy.

"I told him I had no power over those spirits. And that is true. He asked if I knew any other brujo who had enough power to help. So then I look right at him and say, 'Eduardo, if there was a brujo with that much power, wouldn't you be afraid that he would try to kill you?'"

Wendy was impressed at Kaetamo's boldness. "Wow. Did he get angry?"

"No. Not a bit. He said, any real brujo knows that a leader is just a reflection of the society. He said, 'I live in the hearts of all the warriors in this land. If I am killed, another like me will step forward.' "

Beth asked, "Do you believe that?"

"It has been true for a long time. But I believe you will show a new truth. A new way to free the people. And you will not kill anyone. Not one person."

The women were both surprised at his apparent knowledge of their intentions. Beth confirmed it. "We hope we can do this."

"The time now is right. And I have a good feeling from my spirits. But you must be careful. The warriors will fight against you, even without their bodies."

Wendy asked, "Can you help?"

"Oh, yes. I am going to help. Here. I am feeding you fish from a sacred lake." He reached for plates from a shelf and set them around the table.

After dinner the four stood outside as dusk enveloped the mountains. Kaetamo said, "I am so happy you came to visit me. I hope you can return before you go back home to America. Maybe you would like to visit the big temple farther up on the mountain."

Wendy answered enthusiastically, "We sure would. And eat some more of those fish."

Beth said, "Thanks so much, Kaetamo. I think we'll see you again soon. Good night for now." Beth took his hand in hers briefly.

Wendy then hugged Kaetamo and kissed his cheek. As the women got in the taxi to return to Tomas' house, Kaetamo hugged his nephew and very quietly asked him to help the Americans but to be careful around them, too. Tomas pledged his caution, then got in the cab, thanking his uncle for trusting him to help.

No one spoke on the ride from Kaetamo's place back to Tomas's house. Beth gazed out at the stars and contemplated whether the force that had formed the galaxies was still a functional intention. She wanted to believe it would be eternally influencing events at all levels of the universe, maintaining karmic propriety amidst the appearance of ungoverned melee dominated by entropy, the original cosmic slacker.

In the other seat, secure in the day's confirmations of purpose for every quark, Wendy's pool of awareness was letting images of Kaetamo simmer gently like spices in a fresh soup.

Back at Tomas' house, he showed them a small room where they would sleep. He lit a little candle on the wall, then pointed to a chamber pot in the corner and calmly advised them to check for scorpions. He said, "Buenos suenos," and left.

"Scorpions?" whispered Beth, peering around in the dim light.

Wendy suggested, "Just like unwanted thoughts when you meditate: no big deal. Might even help to focus a wandering mind on the present moment." She lifted the blanket, flipped it in the air to dismiss any such intrusions, and lay down on the bunk. "Sweet dreams."

Beth picked up the little candleholder to make a survey of the room, the bedding, and the chamber pot before she settled into her bunk. "Do you have your alarm set?" she asked.

"Yeah. Two o'clock should be a good bet. I hope I can get to sleep. I'm either really excited or just scared."

"Right. Even though I keep telling myself we're pretty safe, I'm a little shaky."

"Sleep in peace, girl."

"Night."

The faint beep of her watch alarm triggered the "wake up" department in Wendy's sleeping brain – the same ganglion that, in Eduardo's brain, would be the target of their psychic insurgency. Wendy reached over and tapped Beth gently. She lit the candle she had placed right beside the bed and looked around for scorpions. "No scorpions here but us," she whispered to Beth. "Bring your blanket over here."

Beth looked cautiously at the floor before stepping there to traverse the two steps needed to plunk herself down on Wendy's bunk. Without further words, each wrapped her blanket like a cloak, and then they took back-to-back lotus positions. Once still and with backs leaning against each other, they started to synchronize their breathing while bringing to mind an image of Eduardo in a deep sleep. In a few minutes, they felt they had accomplished the task of locking him into a comatose state. They gently touched the back of their heads together in formal termination of the non-violent assassination. Then Wendy returned silently to her bunk. Without a flicker of guilt, the two women soon returned to sleep.

Early in the dawning light, the sounds of roosters and kitchen activity triggered the reticular activating system in each of their brains, and they wakened. The smell of coffee suggested that ignition of the day was underway in the house. Wendy looked over at Beth, who smiled back and mused triumphantly, "Ah, life begins anew."

A few minutes later the two women presented themselves in Marianna's kitchen. They were once again dressed in upscale attire, suggesting that they might, indeed, have been guests at an elegant dinner party with the ambassador during their absence from San Pazco. Tomas offered them coffee and a place at the table with his mother.

"Buenos dias" she said, smiling warmly and pointing at the honey pot to offer them sweetener for their coffee. "La miel?"

Beth answered, "Gracias, señora, for letting us sleep in your home."

Tomas asked, "Did you have good sleep?"

"Oh, yes," said Wendy. "We love it up here. The mountain air is very refreshing."

Beth put a large spoon of honey into her coffee. "It's easy to see why you don't want to live in the city, Tomas."

Marianna said, "Tomas say you are good women. My brother say you will help the people of Boliguay. Gracias, señoras."

Beth cautioned, "Si, we want to help. But please do not tell anyone you know us."

Wendy reinforced the need for discretion. "Yes. And we should get going pretty quick, Tomas. It is better if no one sees us here."

Tomas said, "Just eat a little bit, then we go back. No one will know where you have been." From a pot on the stove he scooped two small bowlfuls of corn mush and set them before the women. "Strength from the corn goddess for you." The simple meal did seem to have sacramental power. By the time they had finished the mush, the coffee was raising their energy level to match the arc of the morning.

Soon the trio were in the taxi and headed back to San Pazco. Wendy asked Tomas about the integration of older local religious concepts with the catholic teachings, and lively conversation on the topic made the trip to town pass quickly.

Tomas' taxi pulled up in front of their hotel, and the women got out while Tomas retrieved their small bags from the trunk. Having settled a fare and said their farewells before arrival, they all carefully avoided any outward sign of personal connection while in public view. The women walked inside without looking back, and made a point of speaking briefly with the desk clerk, commenting on the wonderful party they had been to and what a delightful couple the ambassador and his wife were.

In their room, the women relaxed a bit, feeling the guaranteed safety and privacy that are a critical aspect of a decent hotel. They hung up their formal clothes and laid out outfits befitting reporters at work. Beth asked, "Do you remember what Eduardo is scheduled for today?"

"I don't think anything special was mentioned. We can ask at the press office."

"OK. But let's just remember to avoid suspicion. Totally low profile. Don't mention the interview he offered," warned Beth.

"They're not going to have any idea of what happened to him. And what could they prove if they suspected us?"

"They don't have to prove anything in this kind of place. Suspects just disappear."

"So why don't we go home and do the whole thing from a nice safe distance?" asked Wendy.

"Won't work. We've got to get an up close read on whoever we target."

"How do you know that? We never tried remote. We could test it now on somebody back home."

"Someone we never met? Who are you thinking we have the right to put down as an experiment? Who? And how are we going to focus on them? Newspaper photo? How would you find out if it worked? Just call their house? We can't do that now."

"OK. But when we get back, let's figure that out. Shall we?" proposed Wendy.

"Yes. That would certainly be safer. And cheaper."

"And easier. Although I like the travel thing. It's great to get out and see the world."

"Well, it might be important to feel the society we're working with, try to integrate our efforts with the other subconscious forces at work."

Wendy agreed. "Sure. To watch out lest our excessive power might corrupt good intentions."

"Right. Cause we don't know squat about how karma really works."

"OK. Don't get too heavy on me," pleaded Wendy. "I think you need a little shower meditation. Why don't you go first?"

"OK. Thanks." Beth got up and flowed into the hot water temple.

Wendy and Beth walked into the federal press room an hour later, eager to check the vibes around the dozen reporters who were there. Wendy sniffed the air, flashing for a moment on canine information gathering techniques. Juan, the acquaintance from Buenos Aires, walked over to them. "Buenos dias. You are looking very well. Are you enjoying San Pazco?"

Beth tried to sound more casual than she felt. "Yes, we are. Thanks. Interesting place. And how are you today, Juan?

"Very well, thank you." He paused, looking each in turn in the eyes to convey purpose. "I noticed that Eduardo was trying to catch your attention yesterday at the bank. Be careful, please."

Wendy said, "Yeah, he invited us for a private interview, but we managed to put him off."

"I am sorry to hear that. You may have trouble with him now. Once he gets his mind set on something, he will not stop until he gets what he wants."

"Well, if it gets bad, we'll just leave the country," suggested Beth.

At that moment the national press secretary entered the room and stepped up to a podium, collecting all attention without prologue. "I would like to inform you that Uncle Eduardo's schedule for the day has been changed. He is unfortunately suffering with the flu, but should be well in a couple days." He stepped down and left without further explanation.

Juan turned back to the women. "Too bad. He was scheduled to meet with a group of Russian investors today. I understood he hoped to get them to put up money for a big hydroelectric dam."

Beth said, "I'm sure other people can take care of that."

"Perhaps. But Eduardo himself seems to be a key factor in many of these deals."

Wendy said, "Well, lucky for us at least. It looks like a great day to do some exploring. Maybe catch the museum."

"The museum is pretty good. Be careful if you travel outside the city, though. See you later."

Beth led the way out, concerned that Wendy might leave fingerprints if they lingered.

Outside, savoring the sunlight and warm fresh air, they relaxed as they walked a short distance from the inert federal building toward the lively sidewalk at the street. They stopped in a pool of floral perfume emanating from a lovely bush thick with purple blossoms, and there, deftly combining jubilation with discretion, they mimed in facial expression their satisfaction at the confirmation of their hit. Eduardo was out of action. With eyes sparkling like fireworks, their expressions said something like "Wow, wow, wow / we did it/ I'm so excited I want to hug you til you can't breathe / I want to jump into this flower tower and crow for an hour/ we can't attract public attention/ let's celebrate with champagne and greasy food/ we should be on our knees kissing mother earth," et cetera. They did allow themselves a brief touching of foreheads to seal the exchange, and then resumed the demeanor of average citizens on an average day.

Wendy ventured, "I guess we just have to wait a bit to see how it's going to play out. Do you feel like a museum visit?"

"I'd really like to go back to see Kaetamo and maybe go to the temple ruins. But I think we shouldn't expose him to any risk in case we become suspects."

"We haven't done anything, and it seems perfectly normal for a couple of tourists to want to see that stuff. I sure want to go back. He's very intriguing."

Beth suggested, "Well, let's do the museum today and keep an eye on things here."

"OK. How about some food first?"

"Sure. Stella Fiesta?"

"Perfect." They turned east and strode off toward the café at a yankee pace while allowing themselves to entertain images of how Eduardo's pals might be responding to his inexplicable condition.

There was, of course, quite a bit of consternation around Eduardo at that very moment. He lay motionless on a massive bed in a very large room with no small amount of gadgetry wired to him. The vital signs monitor was beeping quietly and showing a digital readout of his heart rate. An EEG machine with large monitor screen showed brain wave patterns that were pretty quiet. There were a few doctors present discussing his condition, peering at charts of test results. More white coats were in the halls and rooms nearby, some on cell phones consulting learned physicians around the continent.

General Sonesta, head of the army, was standing by Eduardo, flanked by a couple of senior officials. The amount of color bar insignias on his chest implied that he had been killing people in every war since the crusades. "Doctor, what could be causing this? His health is perfect, yes?"

The senior physician, whose white coat insignia implied a lineage that had been tending the injured since the crusades, could only offer "Yes, his health has been very good. And we can't find anything wrong now, except that he just won't wake up."

"Have you tried electrical stimulation?" suggested the general, who was a proud alumnus of Fort Benning.

"We are consulting experts around the world, general. I don't think we will do anything experimental on such an important person."

"There must be other tests. Find out what it is," ordered Sonesta.

The physician cautioned "If we take him to the hospital for a CAT scan, more people are going to find out about his condition. You have indicated that you want it kept secret, too. Which do you prefer?"

Sonesta asked dryly, "Is there any chance he's going to die?"

"Not likely. He appears to be completely stable. Just asleep."

One of the officials tried, "How about a coma specialist for this problem?"

The physician said, "We know quite a bit about this. No one goes into a coma without a significant problem occurring first. All his vital signs are normal. His blood and spinal fluid are normal. His brain function appears normal. No injury was sustained. He just seems to be in a deep sleep."

The other official proposed, "Let's sneak him into the hospital. I'm sure you can arrange it so that very few people are present. Make sure they are loyal or understand what will happen if they talk. We have to find out what's wrong with him. If he's not going to wake up soon, we've got to make arrangements to run the country without him."

"Yes, do it that way," confirmed Sonesta. "Several of my secret police will be with you, none in uniform. Get them doctor outfits. Keep the nurses far away. Do the tests then get him back here right away unless you need to operate."

Another physician spoke up "I'll go over there and make arrangements. I'll call you as soon as we're clear. Have him ready to move."

Meantime, in the relaxed atmosphere of the Stella Fiesta Café, Wendy and Beth were floating in jubilation. Few other tables were occupied, as it was a bit early for lunch. A smiling waiter had appeared quickly. "Buenos dias, señoras. Would you like something to drink? Coffee, juice?"

Beth asked for, "Agua, gracias."

Wendy felt celebratory. "Do you have the tangerine liquor?"

"Tangacito? Si"

"I'd like to try that."

"Si. It is made right here in San Pazco. Muy bueno."

Beth looked at the fellow and considered his aura. He seemed safe. "Señor, a taxi driver named Pedroka told us his uncle Martino owns the restaurant. Is Martino here?"

"Si, do you want to see him? I can ask him to come out."

"Yes, just for a minute would be very nice. Gracias."

A minute later the waiter returned, set down the drinks, and retreated discretely as Martino appeared. Martino said "American señoras. Welcome."

Beth began, "Buenos dias, señor. We met your nephew Pedroka and also his cousin Tomas."

"Si, Pedroka and Tomas. They are very good boys."

Wendy added, "Tomas took us to his house yesterday. We met Kaetamo, too."

Martino's eyes expanded. "Ayee. Now, he's a strange man, but a good brujo. It is good for you to meet such people. They keep the old ways. Are you here for business? We don't have too many tourists."

Wendy said, "We're journalists. Our newspaper wants some stories on Boliguay."

"Well, there is much to write about in a country with many changes. But I hope you will also write about the old ways."

Beth confirmed, "We are very interested in that. But tell us, how is your business here?"

"Very good business. The restaurant will soon be filled. And we do much other cooking for catering. I have a little problem today because I had big business to make food for a private party tonight, but I just was told not to cook because Uncle Eduardo is sick. No party. But I already bought all the food, so I am going to lose some big money."

"I'm sorry to hear that," said Wendy. "We'll try to eat as much as we can. Then we go to the museum."

"Gracias. The museum is very good. I must cook now. I hope you will come back soon."

"Gracias. Good to meet you, Martino." He smiled and headed back to the kitchen, and the women picked up their menus.

Wendy tried her Tangacito. "Ooh. That is delicious. Try it?"

Beth took a taste. "Wow. They should be exporting that stuff. It's really good. I'm going to get one too."

"Too bad about the catering thing. I feel like we're responsible for his loss."

"It ripples out pretty fast, doesn't it? But it cuts both ways. There must be plenty of people who are better off somehow just because Eduardo's out of action for a day."

Beth hailed the waiter. "Un mas Tangacito, por favor."

Later in the afternoon, Wendy and Beth were enjoying the museum displays of Boliguay's pre-Columbian culture. Wendy exclaimed, "Seventy different kinds of potatoes they developed?"

Beth affirmed, "Amazing. The potato legacy."

"I'd really like to get out and see some of what's left."

"Well, there're a couple of decent ruins not too far away" said Beth. "And Kaetamo's place is close and we've already got a guide. Want to head back up there tomorrow?"

"Let's try to find Tomas. Maybe we could catch a ride out with him tonight."

"I think we ought to offer to pay him. We can't just invite ourselves to stay there."

"Of course. So, let's go."

Stella Fiesta Cafe was rather quiet in the late afternoon when the women returned there. Their waiter from lunch was setting up tables for dinner. Wendy hailed him. "Ola, Señor."

The waiter smiled his recognition. "Señoras. Can I help you?"

"Si. We want to find Tomas or Pedroka, Martino's nephews. Is there any way we can get a message to them?"

The waiter wished he could help. "I don't know. They drive around the city. I think they go to the bank sometimes, but not much. The airport, anywhere."

"Do they ever come here?" asked Beth.

"Yes, sometime. But cannot say when. I tell them if they come here to look for you, si?"

"That would be very good. We will be at our hotel until we come back here for dinner."

"Si. What hotel?"

"La Porto D'Oro."

"Ah. Si. La Porto D'Oro."

Wendy said, "Gracias."

Beth nodded her thanks, and the women left.

At that moment, General Sonesta was holding a conference in his office with a small group of senior officials of the government. The general explained, "The doctors can not wake him up. They cannot understand what is wrong with him. We must assume his condition will continue."

Pedro Navarro, the country's nominal Vice President, tried "We have discussed this before, and everyone, including Eduardo, agreed that I should take command in this type of situation."

Sonesta challenged him, "Yes, but that was two years ago, and some things are very different now. Two of our neighbors may try to take advantage if they think we are weakened. For economic development, Pedro, you are the best man. But I think only a strong military leadership now will keep us safe from those bastards."

Navarro reminded him, "Of course, they wouldn't be so upset if you hadn't taken a large piece of their land first, General. If you step forward, that may only inflame their resentment. The best defense is the diplomatic path, making me the safe choice."

Esteban Picar, Speaker of the Senate, threw his hat in the ring with the claim that his good working relationship with the Senate made him an excellent man to keep the domestic peace during any transition. Anticipating a marathon discussion, Sonesta signaled his aide to bring in coffee.

Beth and Wendy were strolling down the sidewalk en route to their hotel. Wendy proposed, "Why don't we just hire some other cab to drive us up there? Tomas will get there eventually."

"I'm concerned about other people finding out where we go."

"Why?" challenged Wendy. "It's totally innocent. We're just tourists."

"Not if we're staying at their house."

"There's no other place to stay in the village."

"Right, because tourists don't go there."

"We could go to Kaetamo's. He's close to the ruins, so that's the cover story. And he did invite us to come back."

"Ah, Kaetamo. Is that it? You want to get back to see if you can get something going with him?"

Wendy said, "What's wrong with that? Nice natural motive."

"I just think it could be clouding your judgment. You've done it before. Egg head."

"Egg head?"

"Yeah. Sometimes your egg department takes over your whole head."

Wendy stopped and faced Beth. "You're denigrating my sex drive because you're afraid of yours."

"I'm not afraid of it. I just keep it under decent control."

"I beg to differ. In my humble opinion, I would say that you suppress your sex drive."

Beth started walking again. "Is that really a problem? Creating an orderly society does require some manipulation of jungle ways, doesn't it?"

Wendy parried, "Of course. The question is at what level do you interdict primal urges. You either choose to feel it and then curtail action according to circumstances or else you choose to be totally unaware of it at the conscious level, in which case it boils up somewhere else in your psyche and emerges disguised and vengeful."

Beth retorted, "I think you're a little short on proof for that dynamic. Where in my behavior are you seeing such an outbreak?"

"Oh, you keep it pretty mellow on the surface, but way down in the tectonic plates of the psyche, I think you're building up some serious stress."

"That is a totally male perspective," claimed Beth.

"The holistic woman has male elements in her soul, and if we get attacked, you're going to need that part awake and unfettered."

"Attacked?"

"Yeah, Kaetamo said the warriors would fight back even without bodies. You ready for that?"

"I was hoping we could avoid unpleasant encounters."

"I don't think we're going to get off that easy."

The women arrived at the hotel and paused in the lobby. Wendy suggested, "Let's ask if there's a car rental place in town."

"Sure. That'd be great. Just a couple of tourists checking out the sights."

They approached the desk clerk, who smiled brightly.

Wendy smiled back. "Buenos dias. Is there a place in town to rent a car for a couple days?"

The clerk asked, "You would like a driver to take you somewhere?"

Beth said, "No, we just want a car. We want to drive around up in the mountains."

The clerk advised, "Señoras, that is not safe. You should get a driver. It is not much money. They will take you anywhere you want to go."

Wendy said boldly, "Gracias. We can take care of ourselves."

"You have guns?"

Beth said "Ah, no. But I think we'll be OK."

He laughed. "Well, you will be OK because there is no company to rent cars. Shall I call a taxi for you?"

Wendy turned away from the clerk to discuss the situation with Beth. "Maybe we should just get another cab."

"I don't like the exposure. Having a taxi drop us off out there is going to draw attention. If we fall under suspicion, the police might use the threat of violence against Tomas's family to try to get us to confess."

"Excessive caution makes for a bland life. Risk is a great spice."

Beth proposed, "OK. How about this? We take a cab in the morning if we can't find Tomas or Pedroka by then."

"Sure. OK."

Beth turned back to the desk clerk. "Maybe tomorrow morning for the taxi. We'll let you know then."

"Si. Tomorrow will be a beautiful day for a ride. I wish I could take you myself."

"Gracias," said Wendy.

The women retreated, and Wendy said in a low voice, "I'm going to walk around a bit and see if I can find those boys. You'll be here in case they show up."

"OK. See you later."

"I'll be back in an hour."

Wendy emerged from the hotel and paused on the sidewalk to sniff the air. She closed her eyes and sniffed again as though trying to pick up a trail and then started walking briskly down the street.

At an intersection a few blocks from the hotel, she again stopped to sniff the air, seemed to catch a scent, and then headed up the cross street. A couple blocks later she saw a bus station with a small area for taxis. She went over to the one cab parked there waiting and glanced at the driver as she walked past. The guy was not either of the cousins she wanted. She parked herself on a bench nearby. After a few minutes someone came out of the station and got in the cab, which drove away. A couple minutes later another cab arrived. As the passenger got out, Wendy saw that Pedroka was the driver. Before another passenger could appear, she ran over and hopped in the cab.

Pedroka recognized her. "Ola, señora. Buenos dias."

Wendy said, "Ola, Pedroka. I'm very happy to find you. Beth and I would like to go visit Kaetamo. Could you take us there when you finish working?"

"Does he know you are coming?"

"Not exactly. He did invite us to come back and stay at his house."

"Yes, but he might not be there. He travels a lot. I can not say when he is home."

"Well, if he's not home, we'll just come back here. I'd really like to see the temple ruins. And we'll pay you well."

"Gracias. You can see the ruins even if Kaetamo is not there."

"Right. What's a good time for you?"

"We should go soon if you want to get there before dark."

"Great. Let's go to the hotel and get Beth. La Porta D'Oro." She hopped in the back seat, controlling her impulse to cement the contact by giving him a hearty hand on his shoulder. She settled for, "Glad I found you."

He pulled out into the light traffic. "Si," he reflected. "But, señora, how did you find me?"

"Well, I, ah, listen to the wind," she offered.

"But, señora, there is no wind today."

"Well, it's more like listening to the earth breathing. Yeah."

"OK. That sounds like my uncle's way. It doesn't work for me, but I know it works for some people. You are one of them, si?"

"Sometimes. It doesn't always work for me either."

Outside the hotel, she asked him to wait while she went in to get Beth. "I'll be down with her in ten minutes."

Pedroka was already reaching for a book handy on the front seat "OK. I wait here and study."

Up in their room, Beth was sitting in lotus position meditating when Wendy came in. "I got Pedroka."

Beth relaxed her pose. "You did? Amazing!"

"Yep. He's gonna take us out there right now."

"Not Tomas?"

"Nope. Pedroka's our boy. Let's go. He's waitin."

Wendy started quickly packing a small suitcase. Beth got up, stretching. "I'm already packed. How'd you find him?"

"Intuition. We are supposed to be accomplished psychics, right?"

"To some extent. Nice work, though, connecting on demand. That's tough."

"Its not just us. There're other forces involved here. I think that helps."

"I'm willing to believe that. I just hope those forces are all on our side."

"Doesn't matter now as long as we win in the end."

"Right. But it's better to be prepared for something nasty to pop up, I guess."

"Yeah. As long as it doesn't shake your confidence."

"I was just trying bolster that by freshening up my sense of connection with the all-powerful."

"Good plan. My personal belief is that the all- powerful likes as much drama as any situation can generate. We came down here thinking we had a neat little magic wand, but it's probably going to get messy."

The women picked up their bags and started to leave the room. Beth said, "Yeah, I've got a weird sensation in my stomach. But, you know, I'm feeling really energized overall. Kind of exhilarated."

"Perfect. Here we go then."

The women emerged from the hotel, both suppressing an urge to sprint to the taxi like third graders bursting out of school on Friday afternoon. Sliding into the back seat, Beth greeted Pedroka cheerfully. "Ola, Pedroka. Como es ta?"

Pedroka laid the book down. "Muy bueno, señora."

"OK. Let's go. Need any gas?" she queried.

Pedroka shifted into drive and shot out into the street. "No. Got plenty gas."

Beth leaned forward. "Thanks for taking us. If Tomas is still in town, we could go with him, if you don't want to drive out there."

Wendy commented, "We don't know where Tomas is. I think we should just get going now."

Pedroka quickly said, "I am happy to drive you. I will take you there, and then I must come back right away. Maybe Tomas can bring you back here tomorrow. He goes home every night."

"Oh, that would be great," said Wendy. "Is your book for school? Did you have class today?"

"Si, in the morning. And today a man from the government came to our class. They are buying a lot of computers soon, and they will have many good jobs for the best students in my program. I am going to get that job and make a lot of money so I can buy my own farm."

Wendy asked the lad, "You want to work for the government?"

"I want to work with computers and the internet. I believe computers are alive and soon they will take over all governments. So I want to be part of that cyber revolution."

Beth sounded skeptical. "So Pedroka, you think computers are alive?"

"Si. Like a baby now. But soon they grow up. Kaetamo told us about a vision he had once. He was in the old temple near his house. Suddenly every carved head in the temple turned into a computer screen, but keeping the same face and they all started to sing together. Some song about the people coming back to the land and everybody living in peace with no war. You should ask him to tell you that story."

A half hour later the taxi pulled up to Kaetamo's cabin as sunset was starting to color the mountain vista. The three got out of the taxi and stretched. Wendy breathed deeply, smelling the air broth of mountain flora. Pedroka went to the door of the cabin, opened it and called for Kaetamo. No answer. He turned back to the women.

"He's not in here. But if he is around, he should get back before dark. We can wait for a little time."

Wendy wondered, "Pedroka, can I get some water?"

"Si. Inside. There's a cup in the bucket."

Beth announced, "I'm going to visit the outhouse."

"Be careful for scorpions, señora," warned the lad.

She headed off toward the outhouse, muttering to herself "Scorpions. Nasty forces. That surely does make it more interesting."

Wendy and Pedroka went on into Kaetamo's cabin.

The lad surveyed the room. "Looks like he will be back soon."

Wendy went to the kitchen corner and used the dipper in a water bucket to have a drink. "There's an interesting quality to the water. Is it from a well?"

"A well? No, señora. The water is from the lake. There is no well."

"Oh. Maybe I should get some more before dark. The bucket's low."

"Always good to have water. There is another bucket under the table. Do you want me to go with you?"

"Gracias, no." She picked up two empty wooden buckets from under the table and headed outside. Walking toward the lake she felt an unfamiliar energy stirring in her body and speculated that it was the water inside her undergoing an excited state of resonance in response to the water of the lake. She hummed like a soft breathing of mountain air rustling among the plants. Turning a bend in the path, she saw Kaetamo walking toward her carrying a fishing pole and a few fish on a short loop of rope. He was singing gently as he approached, and her little fountain of music kept flowing as well until he stood before her and said, "Buenos dias, señora. You come back for more of my fish?"

"Ola, Kaetamo. Si. I hope you don't mind. If you had a phone, we would have called."

"I don't need a phone to hear you. And I am glad you will stay longer this time."

"Thanks. We would like to stay with you."

"Bueno. And it is a good visitor who goes to get the water. Let me show you a good place to fill the buckets." He set the pole and fish down, and Wendy admired the shiny catch. "Four big ones," she praised.

"Si. Four. One for each."

"Did you know we were coming?"

"Si, I knew you would come today." He led her toward the lake.

Wendy offered, "I'm very happy to see you."

"It is good you are here," he replied. "And tomorrow we will go to the old temple, so you can learn more about the spirits of this place." He smiled at her with musical eyes. "They like singing." And he raised his head toward the mountain, resuming his song with enough vigor to weave it into the air as they strolled toward the lake.

At the shore, Wendy gazed across the soft rippling water to the mountains rising from the far side and felt a tingle in her solar plexus in response to the confluence of the two elements. Kaetamo called her back from the trance and indicated a good place for filling the buckets. "When you touch the lake, tell me what you feel."

She stepped out onto the broad rock on the shore, set the buckets down, and knelt on one knee so she could lean forward and dip her hand into the water. She scooped up a handful and spread the liquid over her face. "She's alive. I'd like to dive in and baptize myself."

"You can do that tomorrow. But now, will you thank her for the fish?"

"I don't know if I can eat those fish now."

"She gives us the fish. And they will give you great strength from the lake."

Wendy stood up and just resonated with the lake for a minute before filling each bucket in turn. Then she fell in step with Kaetamo, who resumed his fishing song as they flowed toward the cabin.

As the water bearer procession approached, Beth and Pedroka were sitting on a simple bench outside the cabin, studying the ritual of fire and air as sunset wrote across the sky a review of the day's adventures on the land below.

"Ola, Kaetamo," called the lad cheerfully.

"Gracias, my boy, for bringing our friends back. How is our government in the city today, señora?"

"Buenos dias, Kaetamo. I'm sorry that I don't have any news yet. But they are probably wondering what has happened to Eduardo."

Pedroka prodded, "Is something special happening?"

Wendy explained, "Eduardo is sick."

"Did you put a curse on him, Uncle?"asked Pedroka.

"Oh, no. Not me. But maybe somebody. Many people hate him."

Wendy wanted to quell such discussion. "Shall we start cooking? I think Pedroka would like to eat before he drives back to the city."

"Shall I clean the fish, Uncle?"

"Bueno. And talk to them a little, too. Their little fish spirits like that."

"Si. I can do that." He took the fish from Kaetamo.

"We brought you some beer," said Wendy, pointing to a case sitting beside the cabin.

"Oh, Muchas gracias. That looks good. We will have a toast to the sunset."

"It's a wonder that anyone would ever try to paint anything after seeing a sunset like that," commented Beth. "How could you compete with that?"

Kaetamo handed her the beer he had opened. "No. No one could paint if they thought they were competing with that. We are just learning to create, so we have to practice, don't we?" He delivered an opened beer to Pedroka, who was cleaning the fish at a little table near the cabin, and then the brujo gave Wendy a beer and a smile. "For you, the juice of the grains that grow from green to gold and bring you their joy from the sun." He lifted his own bottle toward the setting sun. As the fiery orb slipped below the horizon, they women lifted theirs in shared salute and then quaffed the liquid sunshine with the reverence of priests at the altar in a cathedral.

"Let's make the little fire now," said the brujo, gesturing the women to go into the cabin. Inside he lit a lantern and then started putting some kindling in his little cook stove. "Did you tell the boy what you are doing?"

"No," said Wendy. "He doesn't know anything about that."

"Beuno. After your last visit here with Tomas, I was a little worried. I said too much in front of him. Safer for them if they know nothing."

Beth offered, "Maybe we shouldn't come here any more."

"Oh, I hope you will come here again, but I can not see if you will. So. We make this a good time to remember, si?"

Later the four finished dinner by lantern light. Kaetamo had been plying them with stories. "...the professor really wanted that statue for his museum. And he would not listen to me."

Wendy asked, "So did they just take it?"

Kaetamo went on. "Well, he and his two hombres got the truck close enough to the statue to load it on. They packed branches around it and tied it with rope for the trip back to San Pazco. He was very excited, telling me how it would be right at the front of our national museum. They got in the truck, but they could not start the engine."

Beth asked, "It wouldn't start?"

"No. They look at the engine and try to figure it out. Try the engine some more until the battery is almost dead. He got pretty mad then. Said he would come back with another truck. 'Why don't you open your eyes?' I ask him. 'Are you going to take the lake too? Why don't you just ask people to come here to feel the power of this place?'"

Wendy agreed, "Seems like the thing to do."

"Si. So he ask me 'If I put the statue back, is my truck going to start?' I say, 'You are a professor at the university. You are supposed to be good at understanding, but today you need some help. If the truck starts after you put the statue back, will you understand then?' He stands there without saying a word, so I signal the men to move the statue back. I can see they understand. They move it off the truck and then one gets in and the truck starts right up."

The audience of three smiled softly as Kaetamo concluded, "You know, it is a great pleasure to watch a man's face when he suddenly comes to a new kind of understanding." And they all gently swam in a pool of laughter.

Pedroka stood. "I wish I was there to see it. At least I have the pleasure of hearing such a story from you, uncle. But now I must go back. I will stop at Marianna's and tell Tomas to come pick you up tomorrow. Si?"

Beth stood as well. "Maybe I will go to Marianna's, too. I think there are more beds there. Tomas can drive me up here in the morning."

Wendy smiled her assent. "OK. And then we can go back to San Pazco on Friday. Is that OK, Kaetamo? Can I stay here?"

"Si. That is very good. Tomorrow we will go to the old temple. Can you bring some eggs from Marianna? And take her this honey." Kaetamo gently handed Beth a jar of honey from a shelf where several more jars were sitting.

Wendy asked, "Do you have bees?"

Kaetamo explained, "The bees are wild, but I know where they live. And they make much more honey than they need. Do you want to taste?"

Wendy reached for another jar, opened it, took a finger of honey and ate it, closing her eyes to concentrate. When she opened her eyes, she reported with a passionate tone, "Oh, god. It's like eating sunshine." She took another finger full.

Beth laughed at the sensuous moaning sounds Wendy was now making. "I'll see you tomorrow morning. Don't eat it all." Wendy just continued sucking her honeyed finger and moaning softly.

Kaetamo picked up the lantern and led the way out to the car. He hugged his nephew and patted his back. "Good to see you, Pedroka. Be careful in the city. Things may get a little strange there soon."

Wendy was getting her bag out of the back seat and said quietly to Beth, "You could stay here if you want to."

"Looks a little crowded, and I didn't see much of a guest room. You'll be OK?"

"I think I'm all set. See you tomorrow then." They hugged, then Beth got in the front seat. Kaetamo came over and took her hands in his. "Marianna will give you a soft bed to make good sleep for your body. Your spirit will travel in the mountains. Tomorrow we will talk about what you see. OK?" He kissed her cheek then stepped back as Pedroka started the engine.

Next morning an hour after dawn, Wendy and Kaetamo were back at the lake. The sun had already warmed the air from the night coolness. She took her baptismal plunge naked and graceful as he watched from shore. After swimming about for a few minutes, she climbed out and accepted the humble towel he handed her. As she dried and dressed, she commented, "I can see why Eduardo wanted a house here. It's not just beautiful. It's like a moon goddess came from the sky down to earth so we can go inside her whenever we want. And she's connected to all the water on earth and in every living thing."

"I think Eduardo was just for the scenery. But maybe his spirit can be here while his body sleeps. Do you feel him?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Beuno. He has a connection to you. He might try to find you. Today we will go to the old temple with Beth and try to get some spirit helpers for protection."

"Can one spirit harm another?"

"They can make trouble. As you will probably see."

When Tomas and Beth arrived in the taxi, Kaetamo and Wendy were sitting outside the cabin drinking coffee. Tomas parked and got out of the car, carrying a small basket of eggs. Beth was carrying a rolled up sleeping bag. Tomas grinned "Buenos dias, uncle. My mother gives you some eggs and gracias for the honey."

"Ola, Tomas. How is it going at the university?"

"Muy bueno, uncle. I hope you will let me show you the magical world of computers some day, just as you have showed us the magic that you know."

"I guess I should look at your magic, too. It is not right to say that there is only one kind of good magic or that an old way is better than a new way. Can you bring one of the machines another time you visit?"

Tomas glowed with pride. "Si. I will bring a laptop. You will be amazed."

Beth, looking at Wendy's wet hair asked, "Did you swim already?"

"Oh yes. You should go. Very energizing."

"Maybe later. Did you eat?"

Kaetamo stood up. "No, but now we eat some eggs with fresh peppers. Will you eat, Tomas?"

"Gracias, no. I ate. And I must go to work now. I will come back for you señoras tomorrow morning. OK?"

Beth hugged him. "Gracias, Tomas. I'll pay you when we get back to the hotel tomorrow. OK?"

Tomas sounded a bit offended. "I do not ask for money."

Beth responded, "I understand. Not for you, but we want to give you some money for the petrol and the car. OK?"

"Gracias. Money for petrol."

Kaetamo now hugged the lad and patted his back. "Gracias. Be careful in the city. And bring us news if anything strange is happening there today. OK?"

Tomas looked quizzical, wondering what could possibly happen in San Pazco that would seem strange to a brujo who did really strange stuff himself. "OK. See you tomorrow. I hope you will have a good time to see the temple."

Tomas started the taxi and headed off. Kaetamo turned to the women and said, "Let's eat these wonderful eggs. Then we walk to the temple. Coffee for you, Beth?"

"Yes, please," she answered. Kaetamo went inside.

Beth looked at Wendy. "Have a good night?"

"Wonderful. Very different. Good thing I took that shaman workshop last year."

"Whew. Sounds exotic."

"Very. I'll tell you more later. Right now, I am really hungry."

After the simple breakfast and a little dishwashing, Kaetamo filled a couple canteens and the trio set off. At first the trail was a gentle slope, which allowed easy conversation. Kaetamo's inquiry to Beth asking if she had any good dreams the night before opened the topic of what they might find at the temple. Beth had, indeed, had a night of unusual dreaming, as Kaetamo had predicted.

She related how the major dream began with her flying over the mountains and valleys, even feeling wings as though she were a condor. That went on for a while since she seemed to be searching in the dream for a village which should have been easy to see, but was not. When she did see a small village with smoke rising from cooking fires, she flew down and morphed into a snake as she entered the forest by the village. She had continued into the village, recalling how she had noticed the change of her sense of movement, going from flying bird to slithering serpent. She spent a long time going around the village, but still saw no people in residence despite smoking campfires. She crawled to the well at the center of the village, slithered up over the rim and dove in, morphing to a fish when she hit the water.

The search went on then through a network of underground waterways where she could hear distant sounds of singing and drumming, though she couldn't for a long time identify the direction from which it emanated. "And that's when the water goddess or spirit appeared. Funny that its form seemed to be made of fire instead of water, though. A sort of silver fire with miniature lightning flashes in it. It guided me to a big cavern, and that's where the music was coming from. There were women drumming and wearing outfits made from wild colored bird feathers and men dancing around them singing and wearing outfits made from all sorts of leafy vines with bright flowers and every once in a while an infant would sort of appear on top of a drum and dance on it, quickly growing into adult size, then jumping off the drum into the crowd."

"Did anything happen after that?" asked Kaetamo.

"Yes, after a while of that, the water spirit got bigger and rose up to the ceiling of the cave, which seemed to catch fire or something like that with the lightning zipping all around, and pretty soon the ceiling was gone and it was open sky. And that's all I remember."

"Well, that is a very good dream. Muy bueno."

Wendy nodded. "Wow. That's really wild. Amazing."

The trail became steeper now, and conversation was replaced with arduous breathing. Kaetamo passed the canteen around occasionally, and they pushed on. A mile or so later, Wendy was just about to ask for a short rest stop when they came over a rise and walked onto a level area of a couple acres set in the side of the mountain. In the center was the temple, cloaked with lush green vines, which offered glimpses of the cut stonework of the structure.

It was not epic in size, being about 60 feet long, 40 wide, and 30 feet high, but it had the solemn grandeur of a large statue of Buddha, whose mute motionless gaze holds the cosmic seed from which the vast surrounding stage and all of nature's hungry dramas have sprung. They walked over to the large open doorway. Wendy was the first to voice her thoughts. "I'm getting a strange feeling about time here."

Beth agreed. "Yes. Very different from a museum where the objects are preserved but the life energy is gone."

Kaetamo explained, "The power is sleeping here. And dreaming. And maybe you can go into that dream."

Wendy was more cautious than her custom. "Can't we just wake up this power? I'd rather do that than go into a dream world that we don't know anything about."

Kaetamo closed his eyes. "Sleeping, dreaming. Those are words we use to help us talk about a different world. But maybe those words are not right for what you want to do."

Wendy answered, "I want to make a connection with the spirit of this land. I don't want to be here as an outsider with a wild plan that might not be right for this place."

Kaetamo suggested, "OK. We are going to go over there and sit down." He pointed to a spot beside the temple and led the way over to it. The trio sat down on the ground and got comfortable in meditative positions. They closed their eyes and breathed in a deep slow rhythm. Beth and Wendy were used to synchronizing their breathing, and Kaetamo tuned right in to their cycle. After a couple of minutes, he sang out in a rich vigorous tone, adding nonverbal embellishment between shaman phrases. He sang like a creature who had performed with whales and with wolves, who knew the arias of the wind, and the gospel chorus of the thunder. He called the spirit of the land, demanded audience, and offered the credentials of his lineage like an invisible cathedral centuries in the making.

Beth and Wendy felt a rising tide of energy as he sang. Electricity seemed to be lighting up everything that might possibly be considered a circuit. All vibration was amplified. The webs of connection among the myriad points of creation were glowing and pulsing with passionate intensity. Just as the women were feeling that they couldn't take any more bombardment of sensation without blowing apart, there was a pop, and the entire realm disappeared.

Three points of awareness floated in a sea of calm with a delicate sensation of a soft, very slow breathing around them. The enveloping light of golden hue shimmered gently. The voice they heard sounded as though made of moving waters rather than air. "It is good that you honor the spirit of this land, and though I am timeless, I welcome the change you will bring. The hunters have forgotten that I am their mother, but they are yet dear to me. You will save them because you have the power to waken rather than destroy them, a skill their brothers do not possess. It will not be easy, for that is not the way of the balance. But hold with all my daughters through me, and the lost will remember, and the tribe shall be made whole."

As though returning from a deep meditation with eyes still closed, the trio slowly became aware of their bodies, then the sounds and smells around them. Finally opening their eyes, each confirmed their presence back in the normal world. They unfolded their limbs, stood up and stretched a bit, ready to move, though hesitant to profane the moment with spoken commentary.

They gazed at the temple for a minute in simple farewell, not feeling any need to further probe the structure, but content then to start walking toward home with the transcendental vision reverberating in their psyches and filtering down into the roots of consciousness like cosmic fertilizer.

The procession flowed with little effort on the gentle descent. Their feet and hearts were light, faith in destiny obviating for a while yet any need to contemplate the particulars of how they would advance the campaign.

Once back at Kaetamo's cabin, they picked up some towels and continued on to the lake. At the shore, all three shed their clothes and dove into the water. The baptismal immersion concluded their Pentecost. Their reverent silence mutated into the expression of one of the principles that Buddha never got around to addressing: Right Laughter. As they swam and frolicked like dolphins, they again became agents of doing rather than being, individuated points of consciousness ready to navigate the plot twists of the earthbound maze. Vocalization progressed from oohs and ahs to "oh, this water feels so good" to "I'm getting hungry"- paralleling the emergence of spirit in matter: I am, I feel, I want.

After drying and dressing, Kaetamo went to the cabin, and started the fire to cook a pot of rice and the beans that had been soaking all day. He sang as he sautéed onions and garlic. Wendy and Beth collected a large bouquet of wildflowers, brought water from the lake, and split some firewood as the halo of sunset colored the sky. With the pots steaming gently, Kaetamo traded his wooden spoon for a wooden flute, adding melody to the harmony of smells in the air.

As daylight began to fade, the women laid out the sleeping bags on the grass beside the cabin and did some yoga. Soon the expansive valley venue had contracted to the size of the candle lit cabin, with three tired bipeds inside happily ingesting roots and seeds and washing it down with fermented barley juice.

Soon after the meal, the women settled into their sleeping bags. Kaetamo hugged each of them then went to his bunk inside. The stars floated peacefully above while the darkness below cloaked in modesty the omnivorous industry of the cast of night creatures. Somewhere between the two zones traveled the dreamers.

It was still night when Beth was awakened by little gasping noises Wendy was making, accompanied by slight jerky movements, suggesting some sort of nightmare was taking place. Beth reached over to give her a shake. "Wendy. Wendy. Wake up, Wendy. Hey. Wake up." Beth could see dimly in the starlight. Wendy woke up, breathing in rapid shallow tempo and quickly raised herself up on elbows, looking around, ready to move fast to get away from a dangerous presence.

"Wake up. Wendy. You're OK. It's just me."

"Yeah, Beth. You OK?"

"I'm OK. Are you awake now?"

Wendy looked around, still checking for threats, but her breathing was slower and deeper. "Maybe it was just a dream, but you know how sometimes it seems more real, like your daytime self is awake inside the dream?"

"Yes. Lucid dreaming."

"Right. Except this was Lucifer dreaming. Eduardo was after me. He was really pissed, and really scary. Like Darth Vader on crack. He was strangling me and trying to get my clothes off."

Beth scootched over to get closer to Wendy, and they hugged each other.

"Stay with the light," directed Beth. "Stay with the light." Wendy slowly relaxed, and soon fell back to sleep curled up close against her friend.

In the morning over coffee, Wendy related the dream to Kaetamo, who treated it as a serious warning of the challenge ahead. "These devils aren't going to let go easy. They can see the threads that connect you to them. You got the jump on his body, but he is a powerful spirit."

"I thought yesterday we were getting some protection from the Great Spirit, or whatever that force was," hoped Beth.

Wendy ventured, "Sometimes I think the highest cosmic value is drama, not peace. Maybe that Spirit just wanted to pump us up enough to get the best possible theater instead of us just getting clobbered."

Kaetamo testified, "Belief makes power. Connection to the Spirit gives you belief."

"So what does Eduardo believe that gives him power?" challenged Wendy.

"He only has half power, because he only sees the male force side of creation," explained the brujo. "And that is how you will win: because you know both sides."

Beth had reservations. "Yes, the big bang was just the male force. But I don't feel too strong against that explosive power."

Kaetamo smiled. "All the forces in this universe need to stay in balance or there is no universe. You are fixing the balance, so you carry higher power. You will be strong."

The sound of Tomas' cab pulling up outside the cabin to fetch the women signaled the time for farewells. It's hard to craft a meaningful expression of a great depth of gratitude in a few words. Eye contact is better, like DSL compared to dial up. And the two women went straight to the eye speed connection to convey their feeling about the visit. Kaetamo smiled to acknowledge his reception, and the three melted into a long hug.

Tomas came in to help with the gear. Looking at the huggers he offered, "Buenos dias. Are you ready to go back? I can come tomorrow if you want to stay another day."

Beth turned to the lad, leaving Kaetamo and Wendy to tighten into a more romantic embrace. "Another day here would be wonderful," she said. "But we have to get back to work."

Kaetamo let go of Wendy and turned to his nephew. "Gracias, Tomas. But it is time for these brave señoras to go back. And it would be good to not talk to anyone about their visits here. OK?"

Tomas was eager to please, as usual. "Si, uncle. No one will know. Adios."

They loaded their gear and the sleeping bags into the taxi and headed down the mountain, both women looking back and holding up hands open toward Kaetamo in final farewell.

A half hour later, Tomas pulled up in front of the hotel. Wendy and Beth discretely took his hand to give warmth to their thanks. Without challenge, he accepted the money Wendy tucked in his pocket, and pulled away in a business like manner as soon as the women had closed the car door behind them.

After quick showers and a change into business dress, the women headed directly to the Federal Press Office, eager to see first hand confirmations of their success. When they arrived, the Press Secretary was already at his podium addressing the group of reporters. "...so Secretary Picar will be assuming authority until Uncle Eduardo is restored to good health. All other government offices will continue to operate as normal."

Beth was quick to pop the question that would key their tactics for the next skirmish. "Will Secretary Picar be available for any photos today?

"Not today. But we have photos for you here." He waved graciously at a nearby table. The local reporters continued to throw out typical questions while Beth stepped over to the table of handouts to secure the targeting image for use that very night. Looking around, Wendy noticed the handsome reporter from Buenos Aires who had given them the warning about Eduardo, and she went over to get his take on the situation. "Ola, Juan," she proffered with a flirtatious smile.

He smiled back easily. "Ola, señorita. You must be pleased as reporters that we have an unusual event at the time you are here. No?"

Wendy restrained her natural inclination to give a bigger smile with her confirmation, fearing that the inner thrill at having knocked off her first dictator might erupt with volcanic force. "Si. We just came in. Did they say what's wrong with Eduardo?"

Juan replied simply "Mild heart attack. They said he'll be OK soon."

Wendy managed, "Oh. Nothing serious these days."

Juan speculated, "Well, maybe, if it was really a heart attack. Eduardo may come back, and maybe he won't."

Wendy quizzed, "Do you think it's possible that someone tried to get rid of him? Someone who wanted to be the big man?"

Juan ventured, "I think all those guys around Eduardo would like to be number one. But that can be a deadly desire under a dictator. Eduardo must have some kind of, ah, way to know what people close to him are thinking, which is the best form of intelligence. So, there is not likely to be a coup led by any of the higher officials. Maybe some lower army guy, but not the top guys.

"That sounds right. So does Picar live in town?"

Juan shared, "Si. He has a house here. But you can't go there. You'll see him soon. Picar is going to want to show everybody that he's the big man right now."

"Thanks. I just want to get the details for our paper."

Juan pointed to the table. "The handout has everything about him."

Wendy looked toward the handouts. Beth was there pretending to be studying the material, but was actually just waiting to catch Wendy's attention to give a head nod that signaled time to leave.

Wendy looked at the handsome Argentinian and planted, "Thanks, Juan. See you later." She turned away and walked quickly to the table where Beth was brandishing the handout.

Beth's radar was on high alert. "Let's get out of here. I've got his picture and a bio."

Wendy challenged, "Maybe the picture's not enough. I feel like I need to see him in person at least once."

Beth rolled her eyes. "What? You want to sniff him like a bloodhound?"

Wendy snapped, "Hey. Don't knock it just cause it doesn't work for you. Smell is much deeper than sight. More intimate. When you smell something, you know part of it has come right into you."

Beth allowed, "Maybe I'm just too selective about what I want getting 'right into me'."

Wendy countered, "Hey. Your head, your rules. Boundaries allow variety of unique expression to flourish. Just don't expect your garden to be the same as mine."

"I certainly don't. But sometimes I think you don't have enough boundary to know who you are. Or who you aren't. And that can be dangerous."

"Yeah. And exciting."

"I never had that craving for excitement, and I sure don't want any now."

"You don't like chocolate either. And that's OK. I'm not looking for converts."

"That's good."

Wendy added, "Yes. But when you're judgmental of others, it's a sign of lack of faith in yourself."

Beth spun that point. "And regarding faith in ourselves, why don't we try it with just the picture this time? If it doesn't work, tomorrow Picar will probably be feeling his oats and anxious to build his image with a public appearance. It'd be great if we can learn to do this from a safe distance."

Wendy agreed, "If we can, yeah. I just don't feel like I've got any bead on the guy without seeing him in person."

"Well, how about we fortify ourselves with some lunch while looking over his bio?"

Wendy looked across the room to see Juan breaking off a conversation, and entertained the thought that his company could be very fortifying. "How about we get safely out of here but see if Juan would join us for lunch? Maybe he knows some personal stuff about Picar that would help us to tune in to the guy tonight."

Beth looked at Juan, then back at Wendy. "You do realize that you seem to have a constant subconscious need for male approval, which could be seen as a sign of lack of faith in yourself, right?"

"Of course I know it. That's why it hasn't destroyed me."

"It would seem not, fortunately. But I think it's a major clue for you."

"Agreed. And thank you for your compassionate criticism." They affirmed their harmony by clearly gazing at each other while drawing a synchronous deep breath, in then out, followed by a quick, mirrored nod.

Then they marched over to Juan. Wendy witnessed herself feel that little sugary buzz as she invited him to join them for lunch.

He glanced at his watch. "Maybe at noon. Is that OK?"

Beth accepted cheerfully. "Si. Noon."

Juan asked, "Have you been to Mama Sara at Plaza Beltano?"

"No, but we're happy to try it. We'll meet you there."

Wendy sniffed discretely to capture a pheromone buzz to last her til lunch. "Great. See you later," she said smiling.

Shortly after noon, the three were seated together at a mellow little café with tantalizing aromas already emanating from the kitchen in advance of the lunch rush. They sipped iced mango tea and crunched on fresh corn chips and salsa. Juan, as they had hoped, was sharing some intel. "I was just talking to some people- I won't say who- but they told me that Eduardo is in a coma and that the hospital was doing a scan on his head but nothing about his heart."

Wendy chuckled. "Sounds like a common hospital mistake. Happens all the time in our country."

"But not for such an important person," he rebutted.

"Just kidding."

Beth said, "It probably doesn't matter what's wrong with him. Picar is taking control smoothly enough."

Juan explained, "You haven't been here long enough to know the personalities. Eduardo kept the others under control, but if he's not coming back, things may not be as smooth as it looks right now."

Wendy asked, "Wouldn't Picar use the army to keep order?"

"There is not much order when the power structure breaks down. Nobody trusts anybody. Assassination can change the chessboard very quickly."

Beth asked him "How's Picar's level of support?"

Juan pondered a moment before responding. "Well, he is smart and is already wealthy. Maybe he is busy promising them all more gold if he stays in power."

"Yeah. I can easily imagine a lot of wheeling and dealing going on right now in high places," mused Wendy.

Juan confirmed, "I know a couple guys who run a private security company. I checked in with them, and they say they are getting a lot of calls today."

Beth was now experiencing the effort needed to constrain her excitement as Juan shared more reports from some of his other sources, all indicating that there was a significant amount of concern about stability around the capital. Wendy sipped her tea frequently, envisioning the downward flow of cool liquid as somehow neutralizing the rising energy currents she felt in response to both the news and the messenger.

Later that afternoon, Beth and Wendy were out jogging through the area of government buildings near their hotel. Beth had argued that is was not prudent to draw attention to themselves since jogging had not yet caught on in San Pazco. And locals did, indeed, tend to stare at them after they ran by. But Wendy had insisted on some vigorous exercise and had persuaded Beth that their appearance in casual activity around the capital would distance them from any association with the significant events of the day. After passing a small park, Beth said "I haven't seen a jogger since we got here."

"Guess it's just another unique element of American culture."

"Seems strange."

"That they don't jog here?"

"No. That we do."

Wendy the masseuse answered, "It's a perfectly reasonable form of exercise and a natural adaptation to balance a sedentary lifestyle."

Beth the reporter opined, "These people might find it offensive. We're getting some weird vibes."

Wendy said, "I hadn't noticed."

"You don't feel it?"

"No."

Beth instructed, "You need to get your radar working better, girl. I think we should go back." She did a 180 to head back.

Wendy turned with her but objected, "How could this bother anybody?"

"It's a statement that this society doesn't want to hear or see."

"Health and vitality?"

"It's not about health. Here, it's a tasteless display of excess free time and energy. It's like an insult to their work ethic."

"Yeah, I guess to a lot of these folks, that would be how it looks. Good to keep that concept in mind for our other work."

At that moment a couple of local guys in an office building were looking out a window at the two females loping along. One asked his friend "Look at that. What the hell are they doing?"

"Must be Americans. They do that when they don't get enough sex." Had he been able to get the window open in time, he would have hollered out his offer to help with their excess energy problem.

The jogging apparently worked for their energy flow. The women had dinner at the hotel, read for a while, and fell asleep early. At 2 am their alarm went off. They woke and started preparing for their ritual. Wendy went to the window to look out over the city, which seemed to slumber in peace. She sniffed the night air, then imagined having the ability to see all the dreams that were going on at that moment, perceived as an array of dioramas floating like stars in space, each one an epic drama unconstrained by the daytime laws of physical order. She shook her head to erase the image of a thousand turbulent mini-multiplexes, and the veneer of nocturnal peace returned.

Beth was doing some yoga stretches. Wendy walked over and sat down next to her in lotus position. "Are you ready?"

"Let's do it." Beth moved into a lotus position beside Wendy, both facing the photo of Secretary Picar that they had propped up with a small lamp beside it. They joined adjacent hands lightly while synchronizing their deep breathing and slowly entered the trance state like psychic ninjas.

Next morning, they walked from the hotel toward the Press Office building and saw there were soldiers at each entrance to all the government buildings along with military vehicles visible on the streets. Inside the press briefing room, they took the handouts offered and found seats with the rest of the press corps. There was a fair amount of buzz in the air as Beth looked over the handout. "Looks like Picar's planned appearance before the legislature has been cancelled, as well as his TV address to the nation this evening."

Wendy was looking around the room for Juan. "Any explanation given?"

"None offered here."

The National Press Secretary entered the room and took the podium. Immediately reporters were shouting out, asking why Picar had cancelled his appearances. The Secretary crowded his microphone to silence the throng. "Secretary Picar has postponed his presentation to the legislature and his television address to the nation in order to allow a complete series of meetings with each cabinet secretary so he can become informed of their concerns. The Secretary wants to avoid any misunderstandings which might arise during the complex process of quickly assuming the complete range of duties held by Uncle Eduardo."

One reporter shouted out "Señor, my associates waited since very early this morning to photograph the Secretary leaving his house, but he never appeared. They did notice several doctors arriving at the house. Is Señor Picar having a health problem?"

"No, no. His health is excellent. I believe his wife has suffered from the stress of recent events. The doctors were called to assist her. The Secretary will be meeting with the other cabinet ministers at his house in order to be close to his wife. That is all we have for you right now. I'm sure we all look forward to a resumption of normal business tomorrow. Thank you." He quickly exited the room. Beth gave Wendy a head tilt to signal they should leave also.

Outside, they continued walking away from the Press Building. Wendy said, "Well, looks like we just need to wait a while to see how this is going to unravel."

Beth suggested, "I'm wondering if next time we should maybe take out not the top guy, but somebody right below him. I'm concerned about a total collapse of order."

"I'm worried about that, too. I'd consider that tactic if a moderate player had gotten the job through some sort of internal compromise. Then sure, knock off the nasties and hope the coalition guy charts a course toward democracy."

"Well, let's see who steps up next and what he's got to say for himself."

Wendy tried, "We could ask Juan for a rundown of the other senior guys."

Beth cautioned, "I think a little more low profile would be safer right now. Let's try some research at a library."

"OK. How about we go to the University? Maybe talk to some students in poli sci, and hit the library if we can't get the quick answers from the kids."

"Sounds good. And it won't be a suspicious maneuver if somebody gets curious about us."

"Let's change clothes, too, so we can blend in better over there."

At the hotel entrance there were now a couple of soldiers on guard. The women walked by without attempting any sort of acknowledgement. Inside the lobby, Wendy commented, "Good sign."

Beth hedged, "Sort of good sign. But we may be getting closer to being names on a suspect list."

They walked toward the elevator, but the hotel manager accompanied by an investigator of some sort intercepted them.

"Excuse me, señoras," said the manager. "I need to tell you that the police are searching your room."

The investigator guy said without introduction "And I would like to ask you a few questions. Come into the office please."

Beth assented smoothly, "Of course."

Wendy tried, "Did someone steal something?"

"No. Come," ordered the investigator, leading them into the office. Inside he waved them to sit down while he closed the door.

"What are you doing in Boliguay?"

"As you probably know," said Wendy calmly, "we are reporters for an American newspaper chain."

"That is easy to say and could cover up many other activities. The newspaper you work for is very small. Isn't it unusual for such a small newspaper to send two women to a small country?"

Beth quickly responded "Ordinarily, that would be right. But there seem to be quite a few immigrants from this part of South America in the state we live in, so our paper decided to send us here for a while."

"So you must have talked to many of these immigrants before you came here, no?"

"Of course," she stated.

"So you could tell me the names of some of them from Boliguay? And they probably told you what year they left here to go the US, and maybe even where exactly they came from. Si?"

Wendy's adrenalin was now rising fast. "Well, you know. Yes, we interviewed a lot of people over the past year, and a few of them were from Boliguay, but most of them were from Ecuador and Paraguay."

"That's alright if you don't remember. But I would like you to contact your newspaper and get copies of the stories you wrote. We are entitled to know what you have said about our country if you expect to continue to be our guests here."

Beth rejoined, "Of course. No problem. We'll get them to send it down. We can drop it off at your office in a couple days."

"Good. Good. So I will see you soon. Here is my card. You may go." He opened the door and gestured the women to leave.

Back in their room, Wendy and Beth looked around and saw that their belongings were not thrown about but did seem to have been searched. Beth asked, "Do you think they bugged the room?"

"Unlikely. But its worth checking around carefully." The women spent a few minutes searching all the little places a bug might have been placed.

Beth suggested, "They don't have any reason to suspect us of anything. There are probably plenty of much shadier characters than us slinking around town."

"OK. But how are we going to create a set of newspaper stories?"

"Just sit down and start making it up. We can crank out a series this afternoon, email it to Debbie, and have her print something that looks like Xeroxed clippings."

Wendy worried "What about the people we said used to live here? He's going to check on that."

"We'll have them come from some obscure villages with no phones. And maybe they lied to us to protect their relatives. We're not going to be here much longer. And every detective around is soon going to be very busy. Way too busy to check out our little story. So let's crank out a few pieces then email them back to yankee land."

Wendy suggested, "How about we go over to the university library? We can find some maps there. Big maps with tiny little villages in remote mountains."

"Perfect. Let's go."

The women were at the library, examining a large atlas with their laptops set up on a table when Pedroka noticed them. He smiled and walked over to them, observing the open atlas.

"Ola, señoras. Are you planning to see some more of our country?" he asked.

"Well, it is a lovely land," said Beth. "We'd love to see more of it someday. But right now we're working on stories for our paper. How are your studies going?"

"Most days, very good. But today something, ah, different. Everybody is very exciting because of the sleeping. You know about this, si?"

Wendy said, "I guess not. What's happening?"

"Look like both Eduardo and Picar are sleeping and can not wake up."

Beth did a good job of feigning surprise. "Really? They're sleeping?"

"Si. Some people who work to clean in their houses told other people, and now everybody knows."

Wendy said, "We heard they were sick."

"That's just a government lie," said the lad. "They are both sleeping. This is something a powerful brujo like my uncle Kaetamo could do. But he is not the one."

"How do you know he didn't do it?" asked Beth.

"He told me he would not fight against the government because our people need to learn how the leader comes from the soul of the people. The people need to make a new connection with the spirit before they will get a better leader."

Wendy probed "Did he describe how that might happen?"

"No. But I hope the computers will connect the people to each other and that will wake the spirit to live with us again."

Beth continued, "And that's what you hope to do after university?"

Pedroka smiled. "Si. But not just me, señora. Many, many students here believe this and think we will change our country soon. The internet is changing everything."

"You're right," agreed Beth. "Big changes are happening everywhere."

Wendy quietly asked, "Pedroka, do you know where we can get on the internet? We have to send some stuff to our newspaper, and we don't want it going out from the hotel."

"I can email it for you," he offered. Can you put it on a disk? Then I can take it to my apartment and email no problem. I can hide the source if you want."

Wendy gave a soft, "Woo, that would be great. But we don't have any disks with us."

"I can get one from a friend very quick."

Wendy accepted. "Thanks. That would be wonderful. But we'll need a few minutes to get our stuff ready."

"OK. Ten minutes I come back. Si?" He hurried off.

Beth thought of the Greek god Mercury as she watched him go. "Help from the gods," she murmured.

"If I may draw your attention back to earth," said Wendy, "I just need a couple more names of towns." She pointed to direct Beth's attention down to the atlas while she went back to typing out the rest of the article she was concocting."

A few minutes later Mercury's surrogate returned, though out of breath. None of the trio noticed that the librarian was staring with stern disapproval of such hubbub in her sanctum. Pedroka handed Wendy a blank CD, and she slid it into her laptop to copy the articles. While the files were being transferred, she wrote on her notepad. "Here's the email address to send these to." She handed the page to him. He looked at it briefly then folded it into his pocket.

"You can read this stuff if you want to," offered Beth, "but it's not exactly true."

Wendy added, "Its sort of true. But not all. It's just some stories about people in our state who say they come from Boliguay."

He shrugged. "Does it say anything bad? To make any trouble?"

"No. It's about how they're doing really well living in the US. That's all. There's nothing bad about your country."

"OK," he said. "I don't need to read it, and you don't have to tell me what it is."

Wendy took the disk out of her laptop and handed it to Beth, who inserted it to copy her material.

Wendy cautioned him, "You should erase this after you send it. OK? And you're going to hide every trace right?"

"Si. Erase after I send and no trail. No problem. I must go back to taxi work now. I just came here to get a couple books. Do you want a ride?"

Beth discretely handed him the CD out of her computer, and he slid it into his pocket. "Gracias," she said. "Could you drop us off at the hotel?"

"Si. No trouble."

The women folded their equipment and put the atlas back on the shelf. They walked out past the mute librarian. Wendy gave her a friendly nod, but the gesture didn't alter her suspicious glare, which was an ironic contrast to the backdrop of a very large poster of Uncle Eduardo looking up from an open book with a big smile. As soon as the Americans were out of sight, she grabbed her phone to call the minions of her smiling hero.

On the way to the hotel they could see an increased military presence on the streets. At one point they passed someone being arrested. Pedroka said "Christ. I know that guy. He teaches economics at the University. He thinks the government is not very good for making new companies and better jobs."

"Oh, god," moaned Wendy. "I hope there's not going to be a big crackdown."

When the taxi pulled up in front of the hotel, there were a couple of soldiers on guard. The women got out, acting as though they don't know Pedroka. Wendy felt a shiver as they passed the steely uniforms to enter the building. In the lobby there were other men who had the air of government agents. One of them stepped over to the women and stopped them. "Señoras, please show me your identification and I must ask to inspect your computers. Come into the office."

He led them into the same office they were in before. The women put their briefcases down to get identification out of their pocketbooks. "Where have you been today?" he began with no effort at being cordial.

Beth answered. "We are American reporters. We went to the national press office this morning and then to the library at the university to do some reading." The women handed over their passports.

The man studied the documents a while, compared the photos to the faces, and returned the precious credentials. "Please open the computers and get some work going."

Wendy was eager to demonstrate a cooperative attitude. "Sure, no problem." The women put their laptops on the desk, opened them, and turned them on.

Beth ventured, "We haven't had this kind of security before. Can you tell us what is happening?"

He ignored the question. "How long have you been here?"

"About a week" she said.

"You have been at this hotel one week?"

The women looked at each other, then Wendy confirmed, "Yes, about a week."

"Did you go anywhere else?"

There was a pause as the women wondered what was the safest way to answer. Beth had a sense that truth was defensible stance at this point. "We took a short trip into the mountains."

"Why did you go there? Did you meet someone?"

Wendy answered "We, ah, we just wanted to see some scenery and you know, see some little villages."

He pressed, "An American newspaper sends you here to see a little village?"

Beth said, "Yes. We're supposed to write about the whole country, so we wanted to see more than San Pazco." Since their computers had booted up now, they took the initiative to demonstrate some normal functions.

"OK, you can go," he said. "Be careful where you go."

The women closed up the laptops, and left the interrogation chamber as images of torture tools from the Spanish Inquisition rattled in the corners of their minds. They were crossing the lobby to catch the elevator when an American looking man with a small suitcase and a briefcase over his shoulder approached them.

"Hi. You press?" he popped. "I'm Kevin Brent. UPI Mexico City."

"Hi. And yes, we are," replied Wendy.

"Maine Sunday Telegram," added Beth to lower his expectations.

The provincial credentials didn't seem to deter him. "Great. Can I buy you lunch?"

Wendy said, "Why don't we just sit down here for a few minutes without the culinary format?" She pointed to a sitting area off to the side.

"Sure. Whatever you like. I was just hoping to get the latest."

Wendy asked, "Got anything to trade?"

"Absolutely."

Wendy led the way over to the seats, and they sat down after glancing around to assure some privacy. "What brings you here?" she opened.

"News, novelty, and mystery."

"Come on. Ante up or we're outa here."

"OK. You know about the two comas, right?"

Beth said, "We have started to hear rumors to that effect."

"Not exactly your scoop then, huh. I'd say in twenty-four hours we'll be seeing a fascinating parade of spooks around here. There were a couple med teams from Mexico City on the plane I took. What's the latest cover-up spin?"

Wendy said, "Pretty basic. But it can't last long."

Beth added, "The big question is 'who's going to bat next?'"

"Short list?" he asked.

"No idea," said Wendy.

"Rather unusual conditions for those seeking advancement in public service," was Beth's commentary.

"OK. So you don't really know much. Right?"

Wendy admitted "Right. We haven't developed much in the way of sources. We've only been here a few days."

"Well, good timing at least. Hey, I'll see you around. Thanks." He jumped up and steamed off to find a deeper well. The women rose slowly and walked to the elevator.

In the peaceful retreat that their room now felt like, they discussed the campaign. "I think we ought to nail another one of those bastards tonight," said Wendy. "Scare the shit out of the rest of 'em."

"I think that's too much sudden shock to the system. We should take a break and let things settle a bit."

"These guys need a severe shock. Otherwise they'll just rationalize the unusual event and get right back to the same old crap."

"I'm only suggesting a couple days."

Wendy speculated, "Well, that would bring more press into town, which would help to leverage our hopes for a hefty impact on the bigger stage."

"Right. Another advantage."

Wendy smiled. "And then I could go visit Kaetamo."

"Alone?"

"Not necessarily."

"Did he ask you to come back?"

"Not specifically. But I think he'd like to see me."

"He probably would. If there weren't some more pressing business to keep your focus on."

Wendy tried the esoteric angle. "Well, that's my point exactly. The focus for this business needs to come from his world, not the frenzy that's about to explode around here."

"You're rationalizing. Your hormones are putting a dangerous spin on your good sense."

"Romantic resonance is a road sign for the righteous, sister. Maybe you should come along and get some mountain magic, too."

"It is energizing," agreed Beth. "And it's probably safer for us to stay together. But what about the clippings for the detective? We told him we'd get those stories right away."

"Maybe you could stay here and take care of that and let me have a little private time with Kaetamo."

"One night?"

"Yeah. I'll come back tomorrow. OK?"

Beth conceded "One night. OK. Let's try to find Tomas."

"I'd like to pick up a few groceries, too."

"Sure. Let's go."

When the Americans walked out the front entrance of the hotel, a taxi was just dropping off a couple more new arrivals, who looked very intent on ferreting out the explanation for the recent strange events. Wendy sprang into the cab before it could leave, calling back to Beth, "This is his company"

Beth slid in after her and closed the door.

Wendy asked the young fellow "Buenos dias, señor. Do you know Tomas? He drives a taxi."

"Tomas? Tomas Montez?" he asked.

"Si. Can you find him?"

"Si. I know right where he is. But he is not going anywhere."

"He's not driving today?" quizzed Beth.

"No, señora. He is in prison. The police take him today."

"Do you know his cousin, Pedroka?"

"Si. I think the police take him too. Many people go to prison today. The government have big trouble. So they make trouble to us now."

Beth ordered, "Start driving. Go."

"Where?"

"Just go. Move. Some restaurant."

"Si, señora," he said, turning around to get moving fast enough to satisfy her.

Ten minutes later the women were sitting in a quiet café.

Beth worried "What if they found the disk?"

"We talk our way out of it. Minor journalistic scam we cooked up cause I just got divorced and you suggested an interesting trip to get my mind off it. And your editor wanted you out of town." A waiter put two glasses of tangacito on the table. Wendy continued, "Or, maybe we're really after the secret recipe for tangacito. Yeah, tangacito. We want to steal the national drink."

"Come on. If they suspect us, and they interrogate the boys, they'll go after Kaetamo too. I wonder if he told the boys anything?"

"Unlikely. But he'd be a prime suspect if they start thinking about voodoo."

"You think he'd give us up?"

"I don't know. Maybe if they threatened to kill all his relatives. And if they can find him. He may very well have disappeared for a while."

"Maybe. I think we should knock the boys out."

"What? Tomas and Pedroka?"

"Yeah. They'll be much safer asleep."

"What if the police just kill em?"

Beth assured her "They won't. But they'd probably use them as experiments. Try to develop some way to wake them up."

"Like electro shock. Or brain surgery. God knows what they might try do."

"Maybe. But they won't think of that for a couple days."

"So, what? We wake them up in two days?"

"Maybe. Depends on how we're doing. I'm sorry. This is war, and they're prisoners. So we fight harder."

That afternoon they decided to do some recon by returning to the National Press Office. There were now guards posted there, and a show of credentials was required to get in the building. Inside there were far more reporters than usual, all milling about and talking loudly. A lower level press officer came in the room and turned on a TV monitor on the wall, positioned high enough up so everyone in the room could see it clearly. He announced "Buenos dias. In a minute, Colonel Estaban of the National Security Guard will address the country."

Everyone stopped talking and turned their attention to the TV. In a moment, Estaban appeared on screen, and the press officer turned up the volume. "Citizens of Boliguay," began the Colonel. "I must inform you that our country is under attack by foreign agents whose identity we do not yet know. They have attempted to assassinate Uncle Eduardo and Secretary Picar. I am now forced to take command of the country and to announce a time of martial law so we can defend ourselves against this attack. We cannot tell what type of technology the enemy is using. It may be biochemical or electronic. It is no traditional kind of weapon. And as a man with personal experience of occult powers, I can tell you that some form of witchcraft or voodoo may be involved in the attacks. We must all be vigilant as never before to find out who is behind this and how it is happening. Anything strange or unusual must be reported to the police. Any person at all strange or unusual. May God protect us and our country against this evil force."

Estaban's face was then replaced by a lesser official, who started to give details. But the press officer turned the TV off. The room immediately erupted with questions fired at the Press Secretary, who has just stepped to his usual podium. Several reporters asked exactly what had happened to Eduardo and Picar.

The spokesman delivered the official admission "Uncle Eduardo and Secretary Picar have somehow been put into a coma. Medical experts have been brought in from Mexico to attempt to treat them, but so far, there is no change in their condition. They appear to be unharmed except that they cannot be awakened.

One reporter shot out the question, "What else is the government doing to secure control of the country?"

Beth leaned over to Wendy. "I'd like to get out of here, but I think it would look better if we stayed around a bit and took some serious notes."

Wendy whispered, "I don't have any paper. Do you?"

"Let's see if we can find some without appearing to be totally unprepared for this job." They spent a while moving around the room and making an exaggerated effort to be seen as looking like normal reporters. As soon as they felt they had shown the flag sufficiently, they quietly faded out and headed back to the hotel.

In their room after dinner they again went through the rituals to prepare for doing trance work. Wendy suggested, "Let's do Pedroka first."

"Do you think he's asleep?"

"I don't know. But we should try now. If he's alone and not yet asleep, we can try to get him to go to sleep first."

"OK. Let's go." They did their final synchronization of breathing and settled into a meditative state.

A few minutes later Wendy opened her eyes. "I think he's out, too."

Beth nodded her agreement. "Yep. Let's get some sleep ourselves, shall we?"

"Right. I'll set the alarm for two o'clock."

They got up, stretching and yawning. Wendy set the alarm. They took showers and read for a little while before falling asleep.

An hour later, Beth was wakened by Wendy's groaning and twitching body movements. Beth got up and went to the other bed, then shook her friend lightly. "Wendy? Wendy. Wendy. Wake up. Come on back here. Wake up." She continued gently shaking her until Wendy opened her eyes.

"Oh, god, it was him again."

"Eduardo?"

"Yeah. This time I was swimming in Kaetamo's lake and he was trying to drown me."

"You're OK. I'm right here. Want some water?" Beth handed her a glass from the night-stand, and Wendy took a drink.

"I'm OK. Thanks. Let's do Estaban right now." She got up out of bed and gave Beth a long hug before they sat down on the floor in yoga meditation position to do the trance work. In just a few minutes, they had Estaban nailed into his coma coffin. They were getting pretty good at it.

"Did that time seem different to you?" asked Beth.

Wendy thought about it for a minute before answering. "Yeah. Like he had some kinda shield around him. But I think we got him."

"Oh, we got him."

They got into their beds. "Sweet dreams," said Beth.

"Yeah. I hope so. Night."

Later during the night it was Wendy who was wakened by Beth making groaning sounds in some kind of nightmare. Wendy quickly got up and went over to Beth, shaking her shoulder to wake her up. "Beth. Beth. Wake up. Come on. Wake up. Beth." She kept shaking her and calling. Beth finally woke up, very disturbed.

"You OK?" asked Wendy with considerable concern.

"Wo. Man" groaned Beth. She looked around the room in the dim light. "Damn, I think it was Estaban."

"Oh, god," lamented Wendy. "Are you OK?"

Beth took a moment to answer. "Yeah, I'm OK. He had some kind of little animals. The animals were trying to bite me. Wo. Very unpleasant. What time is it?"

Wendy checked the clock. "'Bout five thirty."

"Five thirty. Wow. I'm just going to get up, I think. Maybe do a little yoga. Try to meditate."

Wendy concurred. "OK. We should be able to get some breakfast soon. I'm going to take a shower."

The dining room had opened at seven, and the women were having some light breakfast at a table bathed in strong morning light. They were countering a residue of fatigue with extra coffee. There was more activity than usual in the hotel, and the guests of all nationalities seemed to reflect the political tension about the coma phenomenon.

Beth commented, "Seems pretty busy, doesn't it?"

Wendy snapped, "Vultures. Nasty, evil, grave robbing"

"Hey, could you ease up a bit? Let's try to keep a clear, centered energy field. OK?"

"Can you feel these guys? They're all secret police types who'd torture their mothers. I gotta leave."

"OK. Let's get going then." They got up and walked out, feeling a strange vibe as though many of the men were trying to suck information out of them. Outside the hotel they stood for a few minutes soaking up the sunlight and the sweet air of morning.

"God, that feels good," said Beth as they started walking toward the government offices.

"Yeah, like morning should feel. Like Easter." Wendy was walking with her hands open, palms up like leaves in the sun.

"Like a stem cell. Full of potential to take any form."

"With birds singing, roosters crowing." They continued to anoint themselves with sweet phrases as an advance antidote to the toxic zone they suspected they were headed for.

In the briefing room, they were surprised to see only a few reporters. Beth checked her watch. "Quarter to eight. I'm just going to sit down over there and nap a few minutes til showtime."

"Ok. I'm going to hit the rest room." Wendy returned a few minutes later, scanned the room, and saw Beth sleeping seated in a quiet back corner. As Wendy approached, Beth suddenly jerked awake with a scream, instantly drawing everyone's attention. Wendy ran to her friend, who was trying to regain her composure.

"Are you OK?" she asked, bending down and clasping Beth's shoulders firmly.

Beth was trying to breathe deeply. "I guess so. How do I look? Like myself?"

Wendy drew back a bit to survey her face. "Yeah. You look like yourself. Why wouldn't you?"

"Good. Christ, that was horrible. First I was at some Aztec sacrifice thing, waiting for my turn. I was in line and watched the priest rip out the heart of the girl next to me."

Wendy gagged, "Gwahh."

"Then he stepped in front of me, and I realized it was Estaban. Except he didn't try to rip out my heart. Instead he kind of tried to push himself into my body."

"To rape you?"

"No. His whole body trying to get into mine."

"Wo. I think we need some help."

"I agree. We should try to find Kaetamo."

"Yeah, and probably be careful to stay awake until we do."

"Right. Let's get going."

Back at the hotel, the women packed quickly for an overnight visit to Kaetamo's. Wendy called the taxi company that the boys worked for and arranged for a cab to take them into the mountains without telling the dispatcher exactly where it was they wanted to go. A few minutes later they were outside waiting when the cab pulled up. They got in with a leisurely manner of sightseers, trying to broadcast a casual lack of association with anything covert.

Wendy saluted the driver, who was a young woman. "Ola. Are you going to take us into the mountains?"

"Si, señoras. Wherever you want I can take you. My name is Nikki."

"Great. Gracias."

"So where you want to go?"

Beth directed "Go to a restaurant first. Up that way." She pointed ahead.

"Si. What restaurant do you want?"

"Just drive past a couple of cafes. OK."

"Si. OK."

A few blocks later Beth revealed the true destination. "Nikki, we'd like to go to a little village in the mountains. It's called Barranquilla. Head north then."

Nikki popped, "Si, si. I know how to go. It's a very small village, señoras. Nothing to buy."

"Right. We're actually going farther than that. We'll show you when we get there."

Beth added, "We're going to visit a healer. A brujo."

"Bueno. I hope he can help you."

"Yes, I sure hope so."

Half an hour later the taxi pulled up in front of Kaetamo's cabin. Beth and Wendy got out. Beth gave Nikki instructions to return the next afternoon and cautioned her not to tell anyone where they were. Wendy had wasted no time in heading for the cabin to look for clues as to where Kaetamo might be. Beth joined her as the sound of the taxi faded away down the hill.

Inside the dimly lit structure there was no sign of recent activity. They set down their small overnight bags. "Shall we scout around ?" asked Beth.

"I'll check down at the lake. You want to go up the hill a bit?"

Wendy grabbed a towel hanging near the door and headed toward the lake. Beth disappeared up the trail running across the hillside. Kaetamo's name was hollered in vain, over the lake and up the valley. No response. At the shore Wendy stripped down and dove into the cool waters. A short swim invigorated her and gave her a sense of resonance with Kaetamo's spirit. Before dressing, she stood tall, legs planted firmly, raising her hands to the heavens in humble invocation, seeking alliance with the invincible energy circuit flowing from the sun into the earth.

Beth was sitting in a meditation pose outside the cabin when Wendy returned and sat down beside her. "Want a dip? Very refreshing."

"Maybe later. I was trying to get an impression of where he is."

"That'd be nice to know."

"But I guess all we can do is send a strong message that we're here. Did he tell you if he travels much?"

"He's probably just gone off for the day. Nothin' to do but wait. Want to go fishin'?"

"OK. Sounds productive." They spent the afternoon doing some fishing from Kaetamo's little rowboat, then some swimming. They tidied the cabin a bit, cleaned the fish, and brought in more firewood. When dusk fell they got the stove going. And as the first few stars came out, they were enthusiastically savoring the pure and simple meal of fried fish. After cleaning the dishes, they sat down in the glow of the lantern, yawning.

"Wish we had a radio," said Beth. "I don't think he's coming back tonight."

"I'm going to lie down for a few minutes," said Wendy. "Maybe we can take turns sleeping."

"Yeah. I'm OK for a while. You go first." Beth stood up and stretched, looking around for something to read. No luck. Wendy lay down on the bed with a satisfied, "Oh, yeah." In a minute she was asleep.

Beth did some yoga for a while, but soon parked herself back in the chair. A minute later she had nodded out, too. Before long, Wendy's sleeping body started twitching and jerking, and a low growling rose up in her throat. She opened her eyes as the growling got louder. Then she got up on her elbow, moving in a rather jerky motion with her eyes rolling wildly about the room. Whimpers started to mix with the growling, accompanied by more twitching of her limbs, as though unseen carnivores were fighting over a kill. The growling got louder and now sounded like two combatants were fighting over control of the vocal chords.

Just then Beth started awake at the uproar and in the dim light saw Wendy's body thrashing. She launched herself into the fray with her adrenaline exploding faster than an air bag. Screaming for Wendy to wake up, she tried to grapple with the arms. Wendy's body erupted, throwing Beth onto the floor near the sink. She continued screaming for Wendy to wake up and started to get up to jump back into the match. Her hand touched the water bucket and instant inspiration struck. Half a second later she poured the water over Wendy, then grabbed her arms again, commanding "Wendy. Wake up. Wake up." The wrestling commotion escalated. "Wendy, come back. It's your body. Come on, girl. Wendy, come back." The wet body was still contorting.

Beth took a step back and raised her arms, fingers stretched wide. She took a great breath and began an incantation in a bold, forceful voice. "Come to me, sisters. Come to me now. Bring your light. Stand in union with us." A glow of light appeared in the air surrounding the tumult and grew brighter, rippling into Wendy like the northern lights. Her thrashing immediately slowed to small jerking, then stopped. Beth knelt down and hugged her, calling her name repeatedly.

Wendy finally managed to squeak, "Beth? Beth?"

Beth immediately reassured her. "Yes, it's me. You're OK now. Breathe deep. You're OK." Beth stroked her face and hair. "You're OK. Can you stand up? I think you ought to move a little." She helped Wendy to get up, and Wendy wrapped her arms around her friend. "OK. Can you walk around a little?" Beth stepped away to turn up the lantern. She grabbed a towel and started to gently dry Wendy's face. "Sorry about the bath. Let's hang you clothes over the stove." Beth located the second water bucket and dipped a cupful of water. "Here. Try a drink."

Wendy took the cup and drank it down. "Good. Thanks. I think I'm OK now."

"OK. But after the adrenaline wears off, we're going to get sleepy again. So we've got to get a little program planned for staying awake."

"Right. We can do some stuff. Tell life stories. Walk around a bit. Do massage. Maybe go down to the lake for a swim if we need to."

"All right. We can do this."

Wendy raised her arms and started hooting and dancing around a bit. They did manage to stay awake the rest of the night. As dawn lightened the sky, they went to the lake for a swim. In the morning they walked up to the ruins and poked around for a bit. They brought back two large bunches of wild flowers to festoon the cabin.

In the mid-afternoon they were getting ready for another round of fishing. They had just dug some worms and were about to head for the lake when they heard Kaetamo's singing at a distance as he approached on the road from town. They dropped the gear and took off jogging toward the singing, feeling the exuberance of salvation lifting them. A minute later they were both hugging him and breathing hard from the run.

"Well, your energy is very good," pronounced the shaman. "I got your message, but I was a long way from here. Hey, you do look pretty tired."

"Yeah, we're really tired, but really glad to see you," said Wendy, rubbing his back.

"We really need some help," pleaded Beth.

"I know. I know. You started a fight, and now they fight back. Si?"

Wendy confirmed, "Yeah. Last night Eduardo tried to take over my body."

"Well, if you take his body, he can try to take yours. No?"

"I guess that's what they're trying to do. Can you help?"

"I hope so," ventured the wizard. "But I'm hungry now. Let's get some fish first. Then we fight."

An hour later they had caught, cleaned, and cooked some fish. But Kaetamo didn't want to clean up. He piled the pan and dishes on the little kitchen counter, then announced, "OK. Now we can make the fight. I will use my grandmother's drum." From its hook on the wall, he took down a well-worn flat drum, common in shape to those of shamans around the world.

He started beating it in straight simple rhythm. "You lie down. I sing the power song. Last night you called for spirit help, and spirits came to you. Now we will go to the spirit world. We will tell your enemies they can get their bodies back soon, but they cannot take your bodies. Put your heads to the north." Wendy and Beth lay down on the floor side by side with heads north.

Wendy asked him, "How can you control them?"

"You have many spirit friends," he answered. "Together they have great power. Your enemies have some power, but in the end, the bad ones are always alone."

Kaetamo now started chanting along with beating the drum. The women focused on breathing deeply, clearing their minds of thoughts. Their consciousness slowly shifted from this frequency range, leaving their bodies resting and still on the floor. As shamans have done for eons, Kaetamo's spirit traveled into the other world, drawing the two women after him.

As the sun was about to set, Nikki's cab was parked fifty yards away from the cabin, while she was sitting in yoga meditation position right outside the cabin where the drumming had been going on when she arrived. Abruptly, the drumming stopped. Nikki got up and stretched. Inside the cabin, Wendy and Beth were still lying on the floor, but now with eyes open and looking around the room to anchor their presence back in this dimension. They slowly got up, then hugged each other, smiling with confidence that things were going to be OK. Kaetamo put his drum on the wall hook and joined them in a long group hug.

Finally stepping back, he said, "Well, you should go back to San Pazco now. I think your taxi is waiting."

"Thank you so much for everything. That was an amazing journey," glowed Wendy.

"Well, maybe we will travel together again some day."

Beth echoed, "Thank you. Thank you so much."

"I am a happy man to live to see this day. And the people of Boliguay will want to thank you, but they will never know your names. So for all of them, I say 'thank you'."

Beth and Wendy put their hands together and bowed their final thanks to the brujo. Then Wendy gave him a kiss and a spirited hug rich with affection. Kaetamo hugged her for a while then drew back. "Now before you go, will you wake up Tomas and Pedroka? I think they will be ready to come home tomorrow. I will tell the taxi woman you will be ready to go very soon."

Wendy said, "Sure. That's easy." She and Beth sat down facing each other while he went outside to speak to Nikki.

When Nikki pulled up in front of the hotel forty-five minutes later, the two women were in a deep sleep. Nikki turned around to the back seat. "Señoras. Here is the hotel. You will sleep better in there." Nikki hopped out to open the taxi door for them. They slowly emerged, yawning.

Beth thanked the girl and paid her. "That was quick. Muchas gracias, Nikki. Adios."

They walked in to the hotel with their small overnight bags and immediately noticed there was festive music playing softly, like an audible corollary of a new energy that even seemed to be generating a fresh scent in the formerly staid air of the lobby. Wendy automatically sniffed a little to amplify the subliminal fragrance that suggested flirtatious blossoms. A smiling bellboy floated over to them and crooned "Buenos noches, señoras. A lovely evening, no?"

The exhausted women struggled to re-calibrate their expectations of the hotel, and started to wonder how the rest of San Pazco might feel if they had the energy to go check it out. But fatigue fostered patience, and they simply smiled at the happy boy, nodding their agreement and softly whispering, "Si. Muy bueno," before turning to fade toward the elevator.

Inside their room, the women both flopped directly onto the soft, sweet beds. Sliding their shoes off was about all they had the energy for as they anticipated the soothing comfort of sleep without fear of body snatchers attacking them. "Oh, it's so good just to lie down and feel safe," purred Wendy.

"I don't think I've ever in my life felt this tired," said Beth. "But I wonder if normal life will seem boring after all this."

"Of course it would," said Wendy. "But I don't think you have to worry about that."

"And that would be why?"

"Come on. Because we're not going back to normal. We're gonna go home, and rest up a bit while deciding where our next exciting trip is going to be."

"What about money? What about my job?"

"Well, you've got a new job, and I think it's all expenses paid."

"I don't think I can do it. You'll have to find somebody else. I could write about it, and we'd get other people to help."

"If you get attention for this, it's just as likely to be the wrong kind. We could get snuffed just for some bastard's idea of insurance."

"I'd use a fake name."

"They'd find out."

"I really can't do it again."

There was silence as Wendy pondered before conceding. "OK. OK. I'm sorry. We'll do it your way. But write it so it seems like total fiction. And change everything about the setting and us. OK?"

"But how are the right people going to find us?"

"Don't worry. It's not about who does it. They won't need to find us." There was a moment of silent consensus.

"OK. Goodnight. Thanks," said Beth softly.

"Goodnight, fire woman. Dream well."

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I consider myself a flower child gone to seed. Born in 1948, I awoke when the Beatles began broadcasting the power of love. I traded my school trumpet for a guitar and played in local rock bands, dropping out of Yale in '69 to join my real tribe in San Francisco. In 1971 I was a founder of the Root One Cafe in Boston, one of the first health food restaurants in town, which drew together a commune of exuberant hippies who delighted in exploring new metaphysical vistas. While running a new age bookstore in Portland, Maine, I built a country house from a couple of barns I tore down and there welcomed sons Dharma and Zen onto the planet. In the early 80's we lived for a few years at the Springhill community in Massachusetts, a vibrant institute offering state of the art psychotherapy work. I did renovation carpentry for 15 years before allowing myself the pleasure of flowing into real estate practice and flipping buildings along the Maine coast, dba Moon Harbor Realty. I've spent a lot of time in prisons—but always as a volunteer, usually teaching guitar. I currently live near Belfast, Maine, on the shore of Penobscot Bay with my personal goddess, Marsea Ryan. buck@moonharbor.com
