Chapter 18

Agents Kane and Rollins surprised us. They wanted to interview each of us separately, and then question all of us at the same time. Agent Rollins knew her partner was attracted to Sandy, so out of spite she glommed onto my sister for her interview in the living room. Agent Kane and I moved to the kitchen table for our interview, and Nicole waited her turn in the master bedroom out of earshot. While Kane asked questions, I hesitated occasionally before giving him answers because I was following Sandy's interview by translating Rollins and Sandy's attitudes to conversation mode. I wanted to make sure Sandy and I were on the same page with the major issues, and of course, Nicole telepathically followed both interviews while she waited.

I took Kane through the two middle-eastern men on the sidewalk that Nicole noticed and pointed out to me. Our carefully crafted story admitted to curiosity about those two men, mild curiosity on my part, and more intense for Nicole, but we didn't bring up or mention the suicide bomber in Saks.

"After Nicole pointed out the two suspicious characters on the sidewalk, our driver became very agitated," I said. "He ordered us all back into the limo. Sandy obeyed him, and Nicole started back to the limo, but I stopped her. I told her the driver worked for us, not the other way around.

"By then I was getting pissed. So what if two middle-eastern men were standing on the sidewalk? To my mind, the situation didn't appear all that sinister. Anyway, I told her I was goin' shoppin' like we'd planned, and that she could either come with me or wait in the limo, and I walked away from her. Just inside Saks, I turned to see if she'd followed me, but she hadn't and looked so upset, I turned and walked back outside."

"Okay, let's slide back in time a little," Kane said. "We've been told Ms. Halliday told you the men on the street planned to attack the skating rink at Rockefeller Plaza with grenades and automatic weapons."

"You've got to be kidding," I said with a scornful laugh. "That makes no sense, Agent Kane."

His attitude told me that he agreed with me.

"Our witness also said that Ms. Halliday told you besides the two terrorists on the sidewalk..."

"Look, Agent Kane, we saw two suspicious men. That's it. Nicole was nervous; I'll give you that. She brought up the fact later that the government is always telling us to be on the lookout for terrorists, and that's what she was doin', that she believed the two men could be terrorists because she saw them glance at each other and nod, which seemed suspicious to her because they obviously knew each other, and seemed to be together, but they weren't standing next to each other. Later, with twenty-twenty vision hindsight gives you, and considering what happened according to the news accounts we watched on television, I had to reluctantly concede Nicole could've been right about her assessment of those two men."

"As I was saying," Kane said, "we've been told that Ms. Halliday told you that in addition to the two suspicious looking men on the sidewalk that..." He checked his notes. "... there was one more man somewhere, and she asked you to find him."

I shook my head and snorted a laugh. "Whoever told you that must've been smoking some mighty strong dope."

"What's more," Kane said, pressing forward, "Ms. Halliday said, and I quote, 'The third one is a suicide bomber. He's in Saks.' At which point, you said, 'I found him. He's inside about fifty feet.' Then she said, 'What can we do?' To which you replied. 'Timing? Nicole, how much time do we have?" She hesitated but finally told you the attack was set to start at three o'clock."

"Your source sucks, Agent Kane, but from what you just said, it sounds to me like someone made up the story based upon facts that came out later. The only thing I can think of that even comes close to what you've been told me was just before I walked into Saks I glanced at my wristwatch and told Nicole it was three o'clock and we didn't have much more time to shop. Remember, I was tryin' to talk her into goin' shopping with me."

"All right. What happened when you walked out of Saks?"

"Waddaya mean?"

"Our witness stated that Ms. Halliday said something like, 'The man by the sign! Stop him!'"

"Oh. Nope, you've got it all wrong. I can't remember her exact words, but she pointed and said something like, 'Look at the man by the sign.' I looked and watched the man slide across the sidewalk and strike his head on a lamppost. Somebody must've given him a hell of a shove."

"You didn't see who shoved him?"

"Nope."

"All right. Then what happened?"

"Our driver was jumping up and down like a crazy man, screaming for us to get in the limo. A second or two later, I heard a loud explosion, and that's when I wondered for the first time if Nicole had been right to suspect the middle-eastern men as terrorists, so I hurried her toward the limo. Our driver wanted us to leave, and after that explosion, I'm here to tell ya that I wanted to leave, too, but before we could get in the limo, our driver took off like a cannonball." I paused, but Kane said nothing. "What confused me was he ran toward the explosion, not away from it. I thought he wanted to be a fuckin' hero, or somethin', and I wanted to get out of there. Turns out he wasn't playin' Rambo, he was just scared half outta his mind and ran without realizin' he was running toward danger, not away from it. About then, another explosion echoed off those tall buildings, and I wanted outta there even more, so I took out after him. Goddamned near got run over by a cab while I was tryin' to cross the street, but I made it, and by then everyone was tryin' to get away from the skating rink, and my driver ran smack dab into the terrified mob tryin' to get away. I grabbed him and hustled him back to the limo, told him in no uncertain terms to take us to our hotel, and we drove away."

There were differences between what I told Kane and what Sandy and Nicole told Rollins, but the differences were slight, and they were planned. We reasoned if our stories were identical, they'd sound rehearsed. During Nicole's interview with Rollins, my lover cursed me for not leaving when she wanted, told her interrogator I was a stubborn SOB, was always tryin' to prove how manly I was, and that I'd rather go to a rock fight than admit I was wrong about anything. Nicole added we'd had a big fight later. Then she smiled and told Rollins that she liked the kissin'- and-makin'-up part that happened afterwards, which made Rollins grunt with contempt.

Sandy simply played dumb. She told Rollins when the driver told her to get back in the car that she used his order as an excuse to do just that because she was tired. "We'd been shopping all day, Agent Rollins," she said. Sandy told Rollins she didn't see or hear anything because she'd laid her head back on the seat and closed her eyes. The next thing she heard was a loud explosion, which frightened her badly. She saw Nicole and I hurrying toward the limo when the next explosion took place, and then watched in horror as our driver dashed across 5th Avenue. Watching me chase the driver was even more frightening, she told Rollins.

"I guess we got lucky," Sandy said. "Everything turned out okay, but I'll never use that limousine service again. I wanted to sue, but my attorney advised me against it. 'No damages, ' he said."

Kane and Rollins left before noon, and from their attitudes, I figured our coordinated, carefully crafted story had done its job. My only fear was that one or more pedestrians occupying the sidewalk in front of Saks that day would corroborate our driver's story.

Sandy harbored the same fear, but Nicole believed we could still stonewall Kane or Rollins or anyone else the FBI sent against us.

"What's the schedule for the rest of the day?" Nicole asked.

"Remember when we discovered that it was a high probability that I was your father in our immediate past lives?"

"Yeah, which only enhanced my belief that fate brought the three of us together."

"I agree. After that incredible discovery, I became curious about the men and women living today who are direct descendents of mine from one of my past lives, so I hired a genealogist to do some research for me. A few days ago I received a report from the genealogist that dated back to my life as a Dutchman named Andries Bushnell from 1839 to 1879. During that life, I married a wonderful woman named Baltje, and before my untimely death at age forty, she gave me five beautiful children. I won't bore you with the genealogy, but the report stipulated that Andrew Bushnell and his sister, Elizabeth Angleton, are direct descendents of Andries and Baltje Bushnell. By the way, Andrew and Elizabeth are the anglicized names for Andries and Baltje. Andrew is an up-and-coming young architect, and Elizabeth is already quite well known as an interior designer. Without consulting you, Nicole, I made an appointment with Andrew and Elizabeth to discuss the design of our compound in Scottsdale. Because my nosy brother is in my head all the time, he knew about the appointment. We'll be meeting with them after lunch."

"All right. This sounds interesting," Nicole said.

"Nicole, Josh, I want to stress you're under no obligation to hire them. This is an exploratory meeting only."

Nicole grinned and her pretty, dark eyes flashed with mischief. "Are they into antiques?"

Sandy huffed a laugh. "Not likely."

"My goodness! Who would've thunk it?" Nicole said after reading Sandy's thoughts. "The oldest broad I know is sick and tired of antiques."

Sandy blushed. "Yup. I'd like my home base to reflect today's architecture, not the architecture of the past, and that goes for the furniture and accessories, too."

Nicole squealed happily and hugged Sandy. "I'm so happy to hear you say that Sandy! I feel the same way about my house."

"How about that?" I said. "We have consensus."

"Speaking of children, Sandy, how do you feel about not being pregnant?" Nicole asked.

She shrugged. "Josh is right. We should consult with a geneticist before we take the plunge. I didn't ask you, Nicole. How did you feel when Josh believed I was carrying his child?"

Nicole blushed.

"At first, she was jealous," I said. "But the more she thought about it, the more she warmed to the idea. In Nicole's mind, we are a true ménage a trois, not just sexually, but in every way."

"I don't like the label, though," Nicole said. "Somehow ménage a trois sounds... I don't know, a little seedy maybe. I look at the three of us as a couple, but that's even more confusing. I thought of calling us a threesome, but the connotation of that label is sleazier than ménage a trois."

"I know what you mean," Sandy said. "Another foreign word might work, though. TRES, for instance, which is Spanish for three."

"TRES... hmm, I like it," Nicole said.

I chuckled.

"What?" Sandy said.

"It's also an appropriate acronym," I said. "T for thoughts or telepathy. R for reincarnation. E for emotions, and S for sensations."

Sandy clapped her hands with delight. "Yes! Perfect."

"Yup," Nicole said. "That's what we are. We're a TRES."

"What happens if I find my man of the world?" Sandy asked, teasing me.

"Cuatro doesn't work, not for an acronym, anyway," I said.

Sandy liked what she saw, and she was looking at Andrew Bushnell. Was he her man of the world? The possibility loomed large.

During the drive to the meeting, Sandy had told Nicole and me that Andrew Bushnell was a protégé of Rem Koolhaas, a renowned Dutch architect, and Bushnell had recently traveled to China with his mentor to research new cities in that country that had suddenly emerged in eight years, or so, seemingly out of nothing.