Chapter 2

Monday ... like all Mondays do ... rolled over the weekend like the German Blitzkrieg; very fast.

The Child Protection Service worker, had to have been related to Khrushchev; she didn't use her shoe, but she did pound on the kitchen table. And, in the end, the accompanying policewoman accompanied Wendy to the CPS Chevrolet.

Very soon, the police were back in full force. Davids house was searched from attic to cellar ... holes were punched in any and all walls because... "This one feels a little thick," the police detective said.

David wasn't there ... David was handcuffed to a ringbolt in the middle of a steel table set one quarter of the way in a steel walled room, facing a large mirror. There was a round the clock interrogation asking a million questions that were going nowhere. FBI, Secret Service, ATF and Federal Alphabet Soup agencies that no one had ever heard of and didn't officially exist were hammering him with questions.

Eventually, his boss, excited because David was missing and three servers were down, made enquiries and a lawyer showed up with paperwork.

"But we haven't found out anything?"

"Maybe it's because he doesn't know?"

"Impossible ... that girl disappeared in..."

"What girl?"

"Wendy Austin," the SAC said.

"The Princess?"

"What?"

The lawyer and his cellphone went into conference.

Very soon ... too soon for the assorted government agencies ... the Princessapality's Ambassador to the United Nations was in the building ... with UN troops ... Wendy suggested that David be allowed to go with her because all he did was "get me out of the rain."

"But she looks so young ... we want to know they do that," said the Presidents wife. Seeming inexhaustible wealth and agelessness was something every billionaires spouse wanted for herself ... and Wendy had disappeared in 1974 at the age of 14. She didn't look a single day older but fingerprints don't lie. She did NOT look 35 ... and the First Lady wanted that for herself.

"35 huh?" was the first thing I said to her.

"I told you I was older than I looked," she said. "Where's my watch?"

"I assume they're on the kitchen table," I responded.

"They?"

"The pieces," I said.

"Shit!" Wendy said, "I was hoping this was all a bad dream."

"Nope ... you threw your watch under the bus."

"I did not," she said. Then she said, "How did my watch come to be under the bus?"

"I suppose it had something to do with the hail."

"Hail?"

"Feel the bump?"

And she did ... she scrabbled around on the top of her head and found the bump ... the natural reaction of OW! was lost in the other reaction: "What happened to my hair!"

"The doctor shaved it off so she could stitch the cut," I said... "At least I think so."

"You think so?"

"Yeah ... she ran me out to preserve your modesty."

"Out of where?"

"The bathroom."

"What bathroom?"

"My bathroom."

"Why?"

"You were naked ... I think."

"You think?" she said. "Why don't you know?"

"Because she ran me off." And to stop the whys I said, "Because you were bleeding from the hailstone ... that knocked you out ... when you threw your watch under the bus ... before I took you home ... so my next-door neighbor ... she's a doctor ... could stop the bleeding. You were very cold ... because you were wet ... it was raining ... she got you in the tub ... to warm you up. And that's why I don't know."

"Don't know what?" she asked... "I don't feel so pretty awful good."

She proceeded to prove it all over me, the seat and the floor.

Lessee ... hard blow to the head ... second blow due to falling ... vomiting ... confusion, dizziness, loss of memory ... inability to concentrate.

I lowered the window between the drivers compartment and the sick room.

"We need a hospital..."

He turned and the odor hit him.

"Yes, sir."

The lights came on ... I didn't know an Embassy Limousine was an 'Official' vehicle.

The acceleration slid me back in the seat ... I didn't know an Embassy Limousine had a souped up motor.

The corners were taken at speed ... I didn't know an Embassy Limousine had Rally car suspension.

The stop ... I wasn't seat belted in ... ouch. That fucker could STOP!

In the end ... someone made an assumption ... false ... but it was ok. Wendy and I were in the same room. It was a good thing.

Wendy had no memory ... zero ... zip ... nada ... she could do the normal ... eat, sleep, breathe, talk ... but Wendy was a fourteen year old ... a normal fourteen year old ... kid.

I wonder how long that's going to last?