The Bodywoman - Chapter 2

She watches the old man walk out the door. His gait is still upright and he must be at least eighty years old. As he closes the door, she sits back in the chair. This assignment could be just what her company needs to get on the map. For three years, she has used her special training and sensitivity to provide protection and investigative services to rich people in need of some discreet protection. So far the work has been run of the mill with most of her clients requiring little more than just an extra body present to soothe their overactive imaginations. This is the first time she encountered a client that is a Sensitive himself and a murder to solve.

A frown crinkles her forehead. Usually, the Gift is handed down from generation to generation and it is highly probable that the son has the same sensitivity to other people's thoughts. If that is the case, she doesn't understand why he needs protection. He would be aware of the danger against him and would have taken steps to eliminate it. Maybe he is not aware of his Gift. If that is the case, she will have an easy task reading him for he will not know how to protect himself against her. If he is a Sensitive and knows of the threat, then she could be in over her head.

The old man quickly cut her off when she tried to probe deeper. He is protecting some vital information that he didn't want her to access. Sarah ignores the cold shiver that runs down her spine and tries to concentrate on something else.

Her mind goes to what she knows of South Africa. Except for the political changes of the last ten years, it was not in the news often. There were plenty of articles about the beautiful scenery and diversity of cultures and landscapes during the past decade. She takes out a notepad from her briefcase and jots down a few points she will have to research before venturing into that country. One very important aspect is the laws on the carrying of concealed weapons. Protecting someone with no weapon is fine when they know you need to stay close, but if they have no idea why you are clinging to them like nettles, it could be very very difficult. And in this case, she has a feeling that she is going to need all the help she can get.

She is still jotting down some points when the sliding door opens again and the old man returns. The mental barrier is still in place and Sarah can't read any of his thoughts. He holds out a thin folder with a few documents inside. Sarah takes the folder and inside she finds the flight numbers and a general plan for his prolonged visit to South Africa. The flight leaves at eight o' clock in the evening. That leaves her with about six hours to organize her own flight and make contact with all the people which could help her. At least she still has a lot of friends in active service.

"Thank you. I better get going." Sarah gets up from the chair and extends her hand to the old man. A jolt of electricity runs up her arm when he firmly grips her hand. He vibrates with electricity and her eyes fly to his.

"Use all the powers you have if you need to, but keep him safe."

The vibrations seem to charge Sarah's body with a strange kind of energy. She doesn't know what just happened, but something inside her changed at that moment - and it scares the hell out of her.

She withdraws her hand and manages a nod. Speech is impossible. Picking up her briefcase, she heads for the door. Just outside the sliding door, the butler waits for her and walks her to the front door. Once outside she takes a deep breath. That was surreal. The feeling of dread and she hurries to the Corvette.

This time she is oblivious to her surroundings. The gate is already opening as she drives down the driveway. Minutes later she pulls into mainstream traffic on her way to her office.

Sarah reaches her office without registering how. She climbs the few steps leading to her second story office without any regard to her environment. Once inside her office she closes the door and falls down on her leather chair. Her hands shake and her head throbs. Her eyelids start to droop. What did that old man do to her? Her long brown hair falls forward over her face as she rests her head on her folded arms. She'll just close her eyes for a minute until she feels a little better.

A knock at her door startles her awake. The headache is gone and she feels normal and full of her usual energy. It must have been purely her imagination working overtime because she encountered another Sensitive for the first time during her work and now she is imagining all sorts of strange things.

The knock sounds again. Sarah strains her mind to find who is at the door. The knob turns as someone tries to open it. Not for the first time she thanks her lucky stars for the habit of locking every door behind her. Just as her minds starts probing a voice calls from the other side of the door.

"Sarah Fisher, are you sleeping in there? Open the door so that I can talk to you." Megan's voice brings a smile to Sarah's face.

Her secretary is a match for any boss. She is fiercely loyal to Sarah, but wouldn't hesitate to mother her and reprimand her if she thinks it necessary. Sarah heads towards the door and turns the key. It seems like the gray head is bobbing up and down with impatience and Sarah bursts out laughing.

"Come in, Megan. I was just resting."

"Are you sick? You never rest." A frown creases Megan's forehead and she places her hand against Sarah's face.

Sarah moves away before Megan can feel properly. This woman will mother her to death.

"No, I'm not sick." She takes the coffee Megan offers her and sits down behind her desk again.

"Megan, I need to leave for South Africa tonight. Here is the flight number. I don't care what you have to do to get me on that flight, but I have to be on it."

"I take it the client hired you?"

"Yes, and we need to start immediately. Find out everything you can about Benjamin Gray and the company he works for. Also get me a list of all available contacts in South Africa and the neighboring countries."

Megan sighs. "You realize it is Wednesday and my bridge night? What time is the flight?"

"Eight o' clock"

"I better phone the others and tell them I won't make it tonight."

The disappointment on her face is comical. To Megan, her weekly Bridge games are the highlight of her week. Sarah feels lousy for keeping her away from the only recreation she has since her husband passed away, but it can't be helped.

"I'm sorry, Megan. You know I wouldn't expect it from you unless it was absolutely critical."

"I know, Sarah. Don't feel bad. What else do you need for the job? Do you need me to arrange a weapons drop or any other equipment?"

"Just the information will do for now. I will arrange the rest when I'm there and know more about the nature of the assignment."

"Okay, I'll be back just now. Don't you need to pack? It is already close to four in the afternoon. You will probably have to check in by six."
Sarah is taken aback. It can't be four o'clock already. A glance at her watch confirms that she has barely two hours left before she has to be at the airport. She left the client just afternoon. That means she must have slept nearly four hours. She doesn't even sleep that long during the night.

"Megan send the information to my PDA will you."

Sarah hurries out the door. Ten minutes later she stops in front of her apartment in downtown Manhattan. She doesn't bother to pull into the parking garage as she will be leaving in less than an hour. Her mind is already busy with the items in her closet. Better be prepared for all seasons.

While inside her apartment she phones Sam. Her brother answers on the first ring.

"What is bothering you, Sarah?"

"Hi, Sam. A hallo would be nice."

"You don't have a lot of time. What happened?" Sam's brusque voice rattles her nerves even more.

"My client transferred something to me during our interview. I don't know what it was, but it made me sleep for nearly four hours. I feel fine now, but it was very strange."

"How did he transfer it to you?"

"By holding my hand. It was some sort of electricity."

"Sarah, who is your client?"

"You know I can't tell you that. I can tell you that he is a Sensitive and quite old."

"How old?" Sarah does not like the tone in Sam's voice. A chill runs down her spine.

"Probably around eighty. Why?"

"He will be dead in less than a month. He gave you some of his powers. And by the way, if they look eighty they probably are nearly twice that age."

Sarah's mouth falls open. One hundred and sixty years? O come on, she must have heard wrong.

"Sam, are you all right? I could have sworn you said the man was nearly double his age."

"You heard right. That might be his Gift to you, but if he feels that you would need more protection to do your job he could have given you a number of Gifts. You need to get to me so that we can sort out what he gave you. It might be some dark power you really could do without."

"No can do. I'm on my way to South Africa and I'm already late. Just wanted to get your opinion."

"And now you wished you haven't called me." Sam's laughter rings out over the phone. He always could break through her defenses. Not that she kept them so tightly sealed when he was close or talking to her.

"You know it. Sam, thank you. Please let Dad know where I'll be."

"All right, Sarah. Take care, Little One. It seems this is going to be an unusual assignment." Sarah can feel the good vibrations from Sam over the line.

She rings off and finishes her packing. Forty minutes later, she makes her way downstairs with a small suitcase and a hold-it-all. Her laptop bangs against the front door as she hurries outside to the Corvette. As always, she struggles to fit the luggage into the small interior. This is her dream car, but it not designed to carry even the smallest amount of luggage. She manages to squeeze the suitcase into the passenger seat and place the hold-it-all on the floor with her laptop. Shifting gears is going to be difficult, but she'll manage.

Half an hour later, Sarah parks the Corvette in the usual place at LAX and after securing a baggage cart, she heads into the terminal buildings. Her watch tells her she is half an hour early for check in, but that is what she aimed for. Megan meets her at the entrance and hands her the ticket. She hands the security key of the car to Megan and hurries toward the counters. Once there, she quickly scans the crowd and confirms that her subject has not yet arrived. Good. Placing her bags next to the wall, she settles down to wait.