Renee Ashley Baker
Copyright 2010 by Renee Ashley Baker
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
“Do you really look that much like Richard Gere? Gary my typist tells me you do”.
“I came to talk about these”. The tall man scanned the slender vision in white before him and extended the packet.
“My letters”. She–Clair–confirmed, feeling each side of the packet of 10 or so envelopes that she’d had had her typist purchase from the expensive Crane stationary store in the square.
“What’s the black band mean?” asked Gary (the typist) who had just walked up and who held in his perfectly still outstretched hand a glass of water (in a perfectly flawless Hermes St. Louis cristal goblet).
“It’s black?” Clair asked startled, running a fingernail underneath the thick rubber band pulling it slightly off the envelope.
The F.B.I. agent looked at Gary. “Thank you for the water Gary. I need to speak privately with Mrs–Miss–Clair”.
Gary took his cue but crooked an eybrow anyway as he left.
“It’s Miss–and Mrs. I was married, to a lawyer, who is Jewish, but we’re divorced. I use “Miss Clair” because it sounds–you know–more mystical–more mysterious. And, the talk shows all like Miss over Mrs. You see when you do what I do they think ‘Miss’ sounds “too innocent” to be fraudulent and just virtuous enough to be ‘noble’.
“Where’d you get Gary?”
“I hired Gary seven years ago. He was born in Copenhagen. He does everything I need done around here. Inside and out. I won’t hire Mexicans”.
“Do you hate Muslims?”
“I don’t trust Muslims. You must know that they fear you and they fear your ‘white’ God. And before they let your white God beat their ‘third world underpriviliged Allah’ they–Muslims– will get rid of us all. They–the Muslims–will all become resentful and radical and they will get rid of every person on the planet who does not bow to Islam”.
“You attended Harvard University?”
“Yes, I have a Masters Degree in Mass Communications. I met my husband at Harvard University. I did mention that he’s Jewish didn’t I?”
“Yes–you said that earlier and you also said that he’s a lawyer. I have a masters degree in listening”. He smiled.
“I think you should sit down”. Clair said gesturing towards the white leather sofa. “I’m right and you can’t figure out why can you? You’ve checked me out but you can’t figure out how I know what I know”.
“The Bureau–the F.B.I.–doesn’t use psychics. The F.B.I. doesn’t ‘BELIEVE’ in psychics”.
“Then why the black rubberband? Black is a special color designated especially for clandestine, covert and classified government operations isn’t it? Black ‘ops’ is the correct term isn’t it? But–black–black means something else too. It’s —It’s—”
“What happened to your eyes?” The F.B.I. agent stood and walked toward Clair. He positioned himself so that his eyes were even with hers.
“A car accident” Clair could smell the Agent’s expensively subtle F.B.I. soap. “Three years ago I was in a car accident on Long Island in New York”.
The F.B.I. agent backed away so that Clair could not ‘own him’ as he sensed she would like to with all her mysticism and mystery. Miss Clair–was a ‘blind woman’– whom he had been sent to interview and assess. Assess how she could possibly have described the locations of three very dangerous “terrorists at large”. How she could have known the locations of the apartment complex (in San Diego) of the 9/11 plane hijackers (BEFORE 9/11 HAPPENED). How she could have known the location of the apartment complex (in Aurora Colorado) of the New York City transit conspirators (BEFORE the F.B.I. had that intel). And why, two weeks ago, she had described the location of a third apartment or house that if, fit the previous pattern, also harbored, housed, a Jihadist radical muslim outlaw that needed to be found and found fast.
“Thank you for seeing me Mrs–Miss Clair. I believe I can find my way out”.
As F.B.I. agent Jim Wright walked towards the door he pushed the packet of expensive Crane stationary envelopes in his inside coat pocket. He would be back again to see this ‘psychic’ who the F.B.I. would ‘not’ believe in. He would be back again to see this woman whose–furniture, carpet, curtains, and clothing were all the same color—WHITE. White like HIS ‘white hat’ and white like the ‘powerful white God’ the ‘underprivileged’ terrorists wanted to destroy. White was the color he had come to see.
ABOUT THIS NOVEL:
This novel by Renee Ashley Baker will be offered as a ‘7 book series’ to Harper Collins first. Then to another publisher, then to Amazon ebooks.
2. This book is NOT about President John F Kennedy. There will be NO BOOK about President John F. Kennedy until a motion picture distribution contract (and output deal) has been signed.
3. A thirty page EXCERPT should be ready for Lulu.com or Scribe.com in 2-3 weeks (at a cost of $4-$15 per EXCERPT).
4. I would like my readers to send me a “comment” on how you like my novel “7 Colors” so far.