Lehal Library

"I don't think she saw me at all, and she was there when I got there!" A tone of desperation had entered into my voice. Silence. "Good. OK. I feel obliged to tell you that she is very dangerous. If you ever see her again, especially if she approaches you, make every effort to put distance between you and her. But act natural, always do it naturally." I had no idea what to say, so I said nothing. "Do you understand?" "Not really," I managed to whisper, "but I guess so." "Good. How is your remote-viewing work coming along at SRI?" By this time sweat was pouring down my sides from my armpits. I was relieved to have the topic change. "Very good. We are getting good results, and I am understanding more everyday. I am aiming at least for 65 per cent accuracy across the boards." "Hum," Axel breathed. "Can you actually achieve that?" "Probably, but frankly not in every case. We all, our clients too, are interested in the possibility." Another long silence. "We would be interested in ... we have a special task . . . can you let us know when you reach 65 per cent? How long do you think it will take?" "Well, if we don't do it soon, we might not get more funds for next year." More silence, this time a long one. My hand on the receiver was sweating. Finally: "You have an office with a desk in it, right?" "Yes." "When you reach 65 per cent, take an ordinary piece of bond paper, 8" by 11", write 65 on it, and leave it beneath the blotter." How did he know my desk at SRI had a blotter? "OK," I said. "Good. We will be in touch shortly after that. Do you understand everything"" Hardly. I understood nothing. But I said, as conspiratorially as possible: "Yes." "I'm sure," Axel continued, "you get the general drift of all this . . . that no one, NO ONE should learn of any of this?" "I get the general drift. All this is serious - and 'dangerous,' right?" I didn't think I should tell him of our dinner conversation back in Los Angeles where apparently everyone viewed sexy extraterrestrials everyday. "You got it." Axelrod hung up. These people, whomever they were, never said good-bye or thank you. The line went dead for a moment as the "link," whatever it was composed of, was disconnected. But then at least a dial tone came back on.