An open–air sun shelter, next to the airportoffice, had several wood tables and benches. It offered a shadyplace to sit while waiting for the thermals to begin.
At one of the tables the tow pilot, Dan, whohad rescued me from Rosamond Dry lake a few days ago, sat,apparently deep in thought staring into the open desert. He waswearing hiking boots, khaki shorts, a wrinkled long sleeve shirt,and his cowboy hat.
I said, "Hi Dan."
He looked toward me and nodded,"Hi."
"Doesn't look like much of a day," Iobserved.
Dan said, "Every day in the desert is good.Some are better for soaring than others. We are supposed to have astudent pilot coming out this morning. He will need about four towsto practice landings."
I had often talked to Dan before. I knew he hada degree in something like English literature or philosophy and haddecided the best way to put it to use was flying a tow plane andflying a water bomber when offered the chance. When there was aforest fire, the government contracted with independent companiesto fly tanker aircraft, mostly obsolete military surplus carrieraircraft, many poorly maintained, to drop red flame retardant inthe fire area. It was dangerous, high paying work, flying a fewfeet above the trees, through smoke, in unpredictable winds, andrequiring exact flying skills. When I was on tow behind Dan in hisPawnee, I knew I was in good hands.
"Going to fly today?" he asked.
"No, it looks too weak to bother getting mybird out," I replied.
Dan smiled, emphasizing the wrinkles around hismouth, in his sun-dried face. "I think it was before your time, butwe used to have a pilot come out here who would go up on days likethis and fly cross-country for hundreds of miles. His name wasCharlie Krill, and he worked at the Lockheed skunk works, designinghigh–flying spy planes like the U-2. We used to say he made his ownthermals. One time, I asked him how he could read the weather sowell and he said, 'Trust the force!' referencing the old Star Warsmovies."
"I have never tried that," I joked. "Mostly, Itrust my friend at the Weather Service at LAX who gives me mypersonal soaring forecast. Then, I plan my flights."
Dan gave me a look that seemed to say, 'And howis that working out for you.'
I suddenly had the feeling that my logicalflight planning was like the California City urban planning,complete in detail but failing in concept.
Dan confirmed my feelings: "Somehow, Charliehad special intuition. The intuitive approach positively worked forhim."
My cellphone rang. Tina, I hoped, until Ilooked. It was Zaza.
Zaza announced, "Vacation is over. Brackenwants to know whether you can meet with a new client tomorrow at9:00."
"Sure," I replied.
"I hope this does not upset any of your socialplans," said Zaza sarcastically.
"I am alone. No problem, See youtomorrow."
****
Chapter Three
A NEWBEGINNING
I was feeling better as I walked into theoffice lobby.
"Good morning Mr. Willard!" Said Carolyncheerfully as she gave me her usual 'How wonderful you arehere...and I'm very available' smile.
Zaza looked grumpy, as usual as she asked, "Howwas your long vacation?"
"A pleasant respite," I replied as I walkedinto my office. I sat down and began to look through my mail andemail.
In a few minutes, Zaza's buzzer rang. "They arehere," she said.
I walked into the conference room and saw PhilBracken and very attractive blond lady.
"Dave Willard, meet Dore Hamilton," Philsaid.
Dore was about five–feet two, with a verycompact athletic look, about thirty years old, with brown eyes. Herstreaked blond hair, parted in the middle, was cut in a manner thatsuggested she spent time in an expensive hair salon. She had a widenose like someone of northern European descent. Her tan face withwhite areas around the eyes suggested she had recently been skiing.She was wearing a dark blue suit with a red scarf.
She smiled with a flash of recognition in hereyes as she shook hands, and said, "Pleased to meet you Mr.Willard," and immediately reset to an icy stare. I knew I had been'made,' fully assessed, and judged.
"Pleased to meet you, Ms. Hamilton," I repliedwithout losing eye contact. I could tell this was one toughlady.
Phil began, "Ms. Hamilton is an assistant to anold friend of mine, Vince Colson who has a venture capital firm inPalo Alto. Vince has funded a foundation, the Colson Foundation, tosupport investigation into paranormal phenomena and other petprojects. He wants us to take on a test case to try a countygovernment for negligence in failing to utilize an availablepsychic resource to prevent the death of a lost child."
I though to myself, 'Oh, no! More of thismetaphysical nonsense, Why me?'
Ms. Hamilton sensed my reaction and said, "Mr.Willard, I expect that this is somewhat afield from your normalcase and possibly makes you a little uncomfortable. Phil said thatyou are a master at presenting complicated scientific cases interms that can be understood by lay juries. The Colson Foundationhas sponsored scientific research that will provide the foundationfor a scientific case that the psychic offered legitimate help. Webelieve the science is there to support the case. The science isesoteric enough that most people would never have heard of it. Philsays you may not be up on this realm of science. It is preferablethat you can bring a fresh viewpoint, unbiased by manymisconceptions shared by many who have a long involvement inmetaphysical subjects, which might bring some biases or beliefsthat would interfere with the scientific case. We want someone witha clean slate on the subject who can appreciate the skepticalviewpoint."
"I think I meet your requirements for a lack ofknowledge on the subject," I observed.
Phil interrupted and added, "Dave has done thiskind of thing before. Some of his patent cases involved subjectsand technologies that were unknown a couple of yearsbefore."
"Good!" said Dore. "Would you be available tocome to Palo Alto today to meet with Mr. Colson? He is to leavetown tomorrow and
