CHAPTER SEVEN… Knowledge, The Brass Ring
"Knowing others is intelligence;
Knowing yourself is true wisdom.
Mastering others is strength;
Mastering yourself is True Power."
Lao-Tzu
As Sam approached Time, she snatched a cookie from the tray. Mentally she analyzed the chocolate treat, verifying that it had not been spiked with foreign chemicals. She stood before Time and cleared her throat. Sam could not help but wonder if Incarnations dreamed. With so much responsibility, whatever could their fantasies contain. Scrutinizing the sleeping form, a pang of remorse slipped between her ribs nicking her heart. She hoped he would not have difficulty rectifying the mess she was certain to have caused. Waving the chocolate morsel under his nose made him jump, blue eyes wide. Time looked around the room remembering the circumstances that brought him to this mundane place.
He started to huff, but the aroma of a freshly baked cookie distracted him. His gaze wavered between the cookie and Sam. Refraining himself from snatching the rich delicacy, his eyes searched her lilac ones.
"Are you finally done?" Time reached for the cookie. "I have a lot to do, just cleaning up your mess," his tone was haughty.
"Mostly," replied Sam watching his reaction. "I need a time pocket to do some important work." She started to hand him the "mundane" treat, and then stopped.
Time's eyes grew wide, "Now what?"
"When I am done here, you can give me instructions so I don't mess up your hard work." She said calmly.
A surprised look crossed his face. No one had ever cared about his work; well they did if something went wrong. Perhaps, he contemplated; she would not be so difficult to work with after all. Recognition of a job well done was a treasure. Time regarded her with a new found respect. She even wanted his instruction, as not to complicate matters. How he wished the other Divine Ones had been so courteous.
"I believe I can train you how to manipulate without conflicting the cosmos." His chest puffed up a little. He'd always wanted to teach and now he had a willing student. "Set up your time pocket and do what you must. Here," he pulled off one of the many watches on his arm. It was a Disney 'Goofy' watch where the timepiece ran backward. It was one of his favorites. "Just set the time for thirteen o'clock and I will come."
Sam took the watch skeptically and examined the clock face. There was no thirteen. "How do I set it for thirteen o'clock?"
"Don't worry; thirteen will appear when the Time is right."
Just what I need, another Cipher-Master. Groaned Sam to herself. "Would you mind keeping the mad scientist there as well as the recuperating man amberized?" She requested and handed Time his chocolate bribe. She turned and gave Ian a wink, then turned back to Time.
Time smiled at her idiom, appreciating its originality not many would refer to time-stop as a fly trapped in amber. "I can do that. Remember, thirteen o'clock." Taking the treat, he wagged his finger at her, and then imploded. Sam shook her head. Incarnations were an odd bunch, she thought.
Ian stood back as Sam spoke with the outlandishly dressed man. It took him a moment to discover he detected her heart beat, which was different from his. He made a mental note to ask her about his awakened awareness. It unnerved him a bit when the bizarre man disappeared. He never took his eyes off her; afraid she too, would vanish. He realized she was wearing an oversized coarse brown outfit, instead of her blue silk robe. Even in unbecoming garb, she was stunning. She turned while studying an item in her hand. He watched her fasten it around her delicate wrist, and then look up and smile. Her smile was radiant and it reverberated throughout his bones.
Checking the face of her new watch showed 'Goofy' with his hand at the three and the longer hand at the twelve, with the seconds ticking backward. Sam shook her head amazed that the piece actually went in reverse. She turned fastening it to her wrist, smiled and approached Ian. His expression was one of wonder and relief; she could understand the wonder, not everyday a person saw Time pop out, but why was he relieved. Did I do something to frighten him, she asked herself. Before she reached him, she finished pulling the rug over the rings imbedded in the floor. Ian started to cross the room to help.
"Want to help finish arranging this office so it looks like he", she jerked her head to Immo, "finished what he started."
"Sure," he responded, "why does it have to look like he completed?" The stare he gave Immo was malicious and intense. Had Sam not been there, Immo would be experiencing a slow painful death, considered Ian. Instead, he had a feeling that Sam had something in mind that would make Immo wish for death. My senses seem to have heightened from this experience with Sam, he decided.
Sam looked at him quizzically. Feedback, like placing a microphone too close to another electronic device, only with emotions, caused the hair on her neck and arms to rise. She caught his eyes with hers.
"Is there something you're not telling me?" Ignoring the question he asked. "If you're worried about his future, I can assure you it will be very unpleasant." Her eyes scrutinized his aura and physical responses.
Ian didn't know how to answer, believing she would laugh at him. He tried to break his gaze, but that only made her step closer. The heat of her body, her skin faintly scented with jasmine, the reality of her friendship, compounded with her heartbeat made him want to seize her and hold her tight. Unable to break eye contact, he put his hands behind his back and weaved his fingers together.
"Ian, what's wrong?" His aura was swirling madly, the conflict of mind and emotion was going to overwhelm him. She wasn't able to determine psychically what the trouble Ian was dealing with internally. Sam watched him put his hands behind his back, making her more concerned than curious. Stepping forward, she placed her hands on either side of his head like he had done, moments before, to her.
Ian gasped when she touched him. Her hands were soft and so gentle, just as he imagined. Closing his eyes, he sought for the strength not to hold her close, or swear that she would never leave. Who did he think he was, bounced around in his brain, to demand or ask for her friendship?
"Talk to me," she tilted his head so she could see his eyes. "Ian," her tone was tender, "if you can't find the words, open your eyes and show me what you are feeling." She remembered stroking his temples helped calm him before and she hoped it would help now. Ever so slowly, using her thumbs, she lightly stroked his temples. An impression began to form in her mind and was starting to gel when he opened his eyes.
He did not so much as gaze into her eyes, but instead devoured hers, and her entire being. Ian broke the grasp behind his back. He removed one glove, removed his ring and let it slip onto his small finger and then removed the other glove. He let the gloves drop to the floor behind him, replaced his ring on the proper finger and slid his hands around her waist. The material she was wearing was coarse, but his sensitive hands perceived her graceful body. His hands moved from her waist up to the small of her back. Subconsciously, he noticed that she was not repulsed or afraid of him. Knowing this made him feel elated.
The Power of his stare would have knocked her back; instead his hands caught her and pulled her closer. Images flashed behind his eyes, and she understood why he was unable to explain. The intensity of his touch and the overpowering of his eyes validated her suspicions. She had to do the Binding before his psyche began to feed on itself. As it was, the binding he had accidentally put on her was attempting to reinforce itself, making her the sun in his universe. Granted, being so highly regarded, read and needed was flattering. She, unlike the man who had bound him before, believed in free will. Sam would only be Ian's training wheels, and the time would come where the threads would thin and she, if he desired, would be a vague memory.
Astonishment rippled through his body, Sam recognized his need! Without thinking, he gave in to his longing and drew her close and held her tightly. His arms crisscrossed her back and he buried his face into her neck. A moan escaped him when she stopped stroking his temples and her hands slipped to his chest.
"Ian, I need you to let me go." Sam murmured. "I have something to teach you." It had been so long since she'd been held. His arms were powerful. The heat of his body, his rapid heart beat was hypnotic. She scrunched her eyes closed and sought for the strength to keep her emotions at bay.
Oh no, this can't be happening, she scolded herself mentally. I'm robbing the cradle. She didn't remember the change she'd undergone receiving the Power, which had radically changed her physically.
Ian reveled in holding her, memorizing the way her body seemed to meld with his. The rise and fall of her breathing, her heartbeat and her scent was incredibly intoxicating. He adjusted his grip to whisper into her ear.
"Just tell me," he responded, his voice thick with emotion, "I'm a quick study." One of his hands brushed against Sam's long braid. He ran his hand up and down the plait which also swept along her back.
His light caress up her back caused Sam to involuntarily start resulting in even more closeness. Butterflies were starting their flutter dance. This man was gorgeous, intelligent, and powerful and did I mention gorgeous, Sam joked inwardly.
"Please Ian, let me go. I must show you," beseeched Sam.
"Aye, Ian me Lad, let the Lass go. Time's awastin'." Mac smirked. He'd been munching on a cookie and watching the show.
He knew the man Sam saved wouldn't harm her. His Master hadn't been close to anyone for a long time. He knew a human's soul would die without love and care. He also figured the Lad needed a good hug before facing reality. Though the Lad needed her aid, his affection would keep Sam's compassion and ability to give her love freely alive. He shifted his small body, feeling her conflicting emotions.
The time pocket would hold only so long, and since Sam hadn't gotten the hang of being in control of time, taking risks was not the way to stay alive.
The new voice shook Ian enough for him to pull back and look around. Over by the treat tray sat a 6" tall human looking creature. Ian wanted to rub his eyes, but was not about to take his hands off Sam.
"What are you?" Inquired Ian.
"I'm a Fae, similar to a fairy but stronger, smarter…"
"That's enough Mac." Sam tried to use this distraction to disentangle herself, but Ian wasn't letting go. Focus, she thought, as tremendous it felt to be held, she had to complete the task.
"And my unofficial name is Mac." He sniggered.
"How do you do?" responded Ian automatically. He could feel Sam draw back and he shifted his attention from the short creature, back to the beauty he held in his arms.
"What is it that you want to show me?" His tone was low and his eyes indicated that it better be important. The way he kept contact between them revealed he'd hold her for eternity.
"Ian, I want you to hold my shoulders at arms-length. You are going to see a barrage of colors. I will explain what I am doing. Okay?"
Ian considered what she said and slowly nodded. "Very well." Reluctantly he took his hands off her back and settled them on her shoulders.
"Ian, do I have permission to enter your psychic, spirit and mental realms?" Sam's voice was very solemn.
"Yes," replied Ian, somewhat perplexed. Unexpectedly, he saw colors serenely surround Sam. Light shimmery blues, gold streaks, a few spots of fire-engine red and white luminescence encased his mystery woman.
"The colors you are seeing comprise an aura. They indicate personality, ability, health and many other events or issues." She took a deep breath. Ian's aura was a confusion of many colors. Greens, blues and reds flashed like lightening, indicating his discontent. There was one exception, a thick-braided silver cord attached from Ian's heart to Sam's.
"Do I have your permission to Bind with you?" Her voice trembled slightly. She never thought that she would have to Bind; it required both parties to agree.
"Yes, I wish to Bind with you." Ian's respond was passionate.
Once bound, a friendship entered another realm, more intense, awareness heightened, and unquestionable loyalty. Some of the monks explained that the Binding will take the positive emotions and weave love into the relationship. It usually occurred when a spark of love or a deep sense of caring was involved.
"Now watch," instructed Sam. She tugged two deep blue threads from her aura. Leaning toward Ian, she uncovered two blue strands and let them float on the surface of his aura.
"I will do the first Binding, and you will do the second." She inhaled deeply and then slowly exhaled. She plucked one of Ian's and her blue threads, and had them meet outside both of their auras. Twisting one about the other until the two became one long strand. Sam looked at Ian; his tension had vanished. He looked invigorated.
Ian had a rush of Power flow through him, into areas he had no concept were there. He pulled a shaky breath and met Sam's sparkling lilac eyes.
"That was…" he trailed off, there were no words to describe his experience.
"Your turn." Whispered Sam. She was observing his reactions, trying to be objective. She was apprehensive about the outcome of his Binding to her. Afraid that it would compel him to do her biding or worse yet damage his fragile psyche.
"Do I have permission to enter your psychic, spirit and mental realms?" He asked uncertainly.
"Yes, you may."
"Do I have permission to Bind with you?" Ian intoned.
Examining her reactions and the colors of her aura. A few glints of orange popped among the other colors. Those are the color of doubts he realized. Information saturated every fiber of his being; he determined this information came from his binding with Sam. He did not want to let her go, but knew he had no choice. His craving for her touch diminished, but he was not about to lose her.
Carefully he picked up his and her own blue threads, and then brought them together as he'd seen her do. Twisting cautiously, the threads were as fine as silk; he finally got the two to merge into one. A pleased smile lit his face, he looked up from the cord he'd made and discovered she was very pale.
"Sam, did I do something wrong?" His joy turned into alarm. Weak, he could feel her life force disappearing.
"There must be something I can do." He felt her waver; he scooped her up before she hit the floor. There was a small couch in one of many Irons' art galleries. Ian carried her into the gallery and laid her on the couch and sat next to her. Caressing her forehead with his right hand while holding her right hand in his left, he tried to be something that went against all of his training, a gentle man. He would never forgive himself for causing her damage.
He heard the pitter-patter of little feet and glanced in their direction. The Fae took a flying leap and landed next to Sam's head. It took a couple of breathless moments before she opened her eyes.
"Did you happen to get the license plate of the truck that hit me?" She smiled weakly.
Ian looked down. "There was no truck, I did something wrong and you collapsed." He appeared to be ready to cry. The only person who had been kind, wasn't repulsed by him, and came to help him, had been harmed because of him. He couldn't face her and the scorn which he so rightly deserved.
"Hey, why the long face? You look like you just lost your best friend."
"I did," he acknowledged. "I did something stupid."
Sam's eyes narrowed, "Well who is it and I'll talk to him."
Ian got a baffled look on his face as he stared at her. "You."
"Back up," quipped Sam. "I am your best friend? And you lost me? How could that happen, I'm right here and so are you, therefore, you haven't lost me." She beamed, "I happen to be a very good problem solver."
Bewilderment accented Ian's face. "You are my best and only friend. I lost you when I allowed you to be harmed." He continued to avoid her gaze. "I am no longer worthy."
"Okay, that's it." Her tone was serious. "Look at me!"
Ian met her eyes. Her fury was more frightening than Irons.
"First off, cut the crap about you 'not being worthy', you are not to belittle yourself. You are my friend, and if I find someone belittling you, they're in deep dodo. Second, you did everything right. I wasn't harmed, just exhausted. Are we clear?"
Ian couldn't keep the grin from taking over his face. He couldn't believe how a lecture would be so welcome.
"Yes," he nodded, "we're clear." He had studied her face and practiced seeing her aura. The information he was receiving was amazing and so useful. Having so much knowledge was like having a computerized library anticipating his requirements. Incredible, he believed. Her aura had been weak but her fury had changed it to brilliant hues of every shade.
He had comprehended how he was to act around Irons and Immo. The chemicals Sam had adjusted in his brain would neutralize the potions the doctor created. Ian had the code to turn Irons suspicions to believing he had ordered Ian to do what he asked. Routines that he had were to be maintained; once she made it back to the monastery and all the paperwork was complete, she would return to the U.S. She would try and visit, especially if she found a way not to affect anything electrical. Ian grinned at that, he hoped she would find a way.
Sam sat up and put her feet on the floor. She reached down for Mac and had him entangle himself in her hair. Ian stood, dreading her leaving.
"After I leave, return to the mad doctor's office. Sit in the chair as though the process worked. You are supposed to be more pliable to Irons, and your manner subservient. Not fun I know, but in a while, I'll be in town and the show will begin." She moved toward Ian, a slight smile on her lips.
"I'm going to miss you Ian Nottingham, even if it's for only a few days."
Ian never took his eyes off her; he already had a hollow spot knowing she had to leave. Her warmth, compassion was a drug. He committed to memory every moment he'd had with her, especially the feel of her body and the touch of her skin. Most of all he would miss her teasing smile and soothing caress.
"Don't forget to play the oppressed slave." Mac winked, and then settled into Sam's braid.
Sam rested her hand against his cheek, and looked into his tantalizing eyes. A delicious shudder moved through him. He held his breath, so as not to beg her to stay.
She moved to the middle of the room, closed her eyes and reached out into the currents of Time, Destiny and home. The hairs on Ian's arm began to rise as her Power grew. It whipped around her like a tornado. As Ian watched, her image began to grow diaphanous; her being transformed into energy till there was nothing but silence. He stood dumbfounded, looked around the room and discovered nothing was out of place. Remembering her words, he returned to Immo's office, ready to play slave of the day. A wicked grin passed quickly across his face. Soon Sam would be in New York, and life would be good.
*****
Sam awoke on the Nemesis. Obviously the Power-winds were not the best way to travel. Just ask Dorothy, she thought. She stretched. Late afternoon, and she was starving. In the blink of an eye she was off the cliff and heading back to the Sanctuary. Brothers started yelling as she approached, it seemed her disappearance had not gone unnoticed. Soon she was enveloped by brown clad men who ushered her into the Master's reception area. The look on the Master's face was one of relief.
"Sit Samsara, we have much to discuss." He gestured to a chair.
"Honorable Master, may I present what happened, and then we can talk later. I am so very tired." Sam's head was throbbing, she wasn't sure why but figured sleep would help.
"Of course child." The Master sat back and studied the Divine One. She was dangerously tired. His relief was genuine; not being able to find her life force was alarming. Then he noticed her hair, where there had been only one platinum white streak were two more. His heart lodged itself in his throat; he had to ask but really didn't want to know.
"You met Incarnations on this trip." He tried to sound nonchalant.
"Two of them, Time and Evil. Why are Incarnations so full of themselves?" Asked Sam.
The Master had no answer and just shook his head, stunned by her careless attitude regarding the Incarnations. He held out his hands, Sam came close and took them; she gave him all the information she had. When she released the Master's hands, his face was white. He looked at her in awe; he knew she was a rare Divine Individual but her exploits were incredible. Above all, the Master could not determine how she was able to maintain her humanity, with all the Power she had at her disposal. Her kindnesses were more than one or two monasteries could ever hope to achieve in a lifetime.
Sam bowed low over the Master's. "May I be excused?"
"Of course, sleep well." The Master replied somewhat distantly. "Before you go, we have started the process of sending you back to the United States"
Sam answered with a smile. "Thank you Master." She backed out of the room and headed straight to her bed. She threw herself upon the futon and was asleep before hitting the pillow.
*****
Ian stood transfixed for a moment realizing she had disappeared. It took a few seconds to sense the loss of her presence. He could still feel his connection through the binding; it was like having a piece of her in his heart. Knowing they were really connected helped lessen the dejection he knew was lurking. Before going back to Immo's office he went into Irons' room. Using his new skill, he went and studied Irons' aura. The malevolence surrounding his master was devastating. As Ian stood in the room, black oily tendrils snaked quickly toward him only to meet an unseen shield. Stunned by the velocity and ferocity of the attack, Ian stepped back into the hall. He would have to be very careful; another look at Irons gave him an idea what his master was expecting the "programming" to have achieved and how he expected Ian to behave. The next few days would definitely be a challenge. He returned to Immo's office, sat in the chair Immo was expecting him to occupy, and lowered his head as though he were unconscious.
Approximately fifteen minutes passed, Immo began talking as though he'd never stopped.
"Young Nottingham," he said condescendingly, "you will go to your chamber for a two hour nap, freshen up and check in with Mr. Irons for your updated tasks before breakfast. Do you understand?"
Ian counted slowly to fifteen before answering in a monotone, "Yes, I understand." In the back of his mind, he was visualizing ripping Immo apart with his bare hands; it helped to keep his blood pressure low.
"Very well then, off you go." Immo made shooing actions with his hands, as Ian stood and headed for the door. Immo watched Ian leave, proud of the work he had accomplished. Yes, Mr. Irons will appreciate my work on Nottingham. Yawning he glanced around his office, seeing there was nothing that needed to be done, decided to take his own orders and go to bed. He picked up the platter of cookies and deposited the remains in the trash. Stopping for a moment, he noticed more than just two cookies were gone. He tried to remember eating them but drew a blank. Shrugging his shoulders, he decided he must have eaten them while attending to Nottingham. Immo left the plate on his desk and headed out of the office, flicking off the lights. He drew in a deep breath as he pulled his door closed behind him, for some reason he had the strangest rhythmic feeling of having his head surrounded by many clocks. Determined that he was imaging things, propelled him even faster down the corridor to his private suite.
Ian had to force himself to leave without murdering the rat-faced man as Sam had referred to Immo. Just thinking about Sam lifted his spirits; she was his hope. He continued down the hallway to a set of stairs that led down to his room. Concentrating on his body movements, so that he appeared to still be under the influence of the drug cocktail that Immo injected into his body, was draining. With the cameras everywhere, he could not afford to have anyone suspicious, especially Irons.
Once in his hallway, relief set in as he neared his bedroom door. Punching in the code, he opened the door slowly, entered and stood a few feet in while the door clicked and satisfactorily locked behind him. The silence and darkness was a welcome respite. Slightly under and behind the camera, he allowed him to breathe a quiet sigh of relief. He decided to forgo his nightly ritual and went to bed. He removed one boot and then the next and fell back on top of the covers. He rolled away from the camera, briefly thought of Sam and the perplexing events that had occurred and then was overcome by sleep.
*********
Irons awoke refreshed and in an extremely good mood. The unusual taste of Power was even stronger, as though it had visited him personally during the night. He had the impression it'd beckoned him. The promise of his dreams, his black heart's desires being fulfilled, enticed him. Sensually, tantalizing and stirring him like a gifted lover. Irons quivered with anticipation; he instinctively knew that the Power was not based on gender. Then he had an instant memory of a reference in his Master Book, referring to a 'Pure Mystery." He summoned one of his servants to bring his tome that he might research the exotic tasting Power.
Breakfast tasted splendid. He took his time reveling in the sensations, texture, taste and smell. He could not remember when he'd actually enjoyed a meal. Even the pain from the wound did not detract from his pleasure. After eating and freshening up with the assistance of a medical aide, he turned his attention to the 'Book'. He was deeply engrossed when Ian tapped on the door then entered.
Irons looked up at his 'reprogrammed' protégé and gestured for him to take a chair. Ian stood quietly; eyes down, dressed impeccably and immediately sat in the chair that Irons had gestured. Irons continued to study the book.
Ian had taken extreme measures when he awoke for his first meeting as the new and improved slave. He had showered and meticulously dressed for the assignment that Irons was going to send him on as a test. Stopping by Irons' bedroom and reading his aura the evening before had given Ian the edge on what to expect. While Irons attention was on the book, Ian peered through his thick eyelashes to scan his Master's aura.
Irons could feel Ian's eyes on his back and smiled to himself. He may not have the Witchblade in his possession, but he did have the perfect slave, no Irons reconsidered, son. Slowly he turned away from his prized possession and studied Ian. He noticed young Nottingham had dressed tastefully and professionally. That pleased him.
Irons moved back to the bed and picked up his pad, his eyes never leaving the young man, head bowed before him. His manner was like the 'proverbial cat eating the canary'.
"I trust you slept well, young Nottingham?" His writing flawless. He tapped the board to get Ian to read it.
"Yes, Father, I slept very well." Ian responded in a flat tone. His emotions were overwhelming. It took everything he had to give the attitude of detachment. He discovered strength in his binding with Sam. Although she was miles away, her power flowed into his center. He almost gasped when her strength met his need. Luckily Irons was busy scribbling and did not notice Ian's involuntary lurch as he assimilated her Power.
"I have a job for you," Irons wrote, "and I want to see the results tonight." He turned a gloating face to Ian. This job was a small step back into the path he had arranged for Ian.
Inwardly, Ian cringed. How was he going to get around this, he wondered.
"There is a reference to "Pure Mystery" in this book. Power, Ian. Power that outshines the Witchblade. Today you will go and gather information regarding this citation, the Zen Monastery should be able to, and shall we say enlighten you. Talk to them and see if the 'Mystery' is a scroll or item."
Ian almost sagged with relief. He wasn't going to be ordered to go after Sara. He automatically nodded to Irons.
"I will go at once, Father. Will there be anything else?" Ian kept his head bowed, acting as subservient as he could without giving himself away.
Irons studied Ian, pleased at what he saw. Something niggled at the back of his brain. He stood and walked slowly toward Ian. There was something about Ian. Irons narrowed his eyes and slowly stalked around Ian. He shifted the air; the scent of Power encircled Ian. How could that be? He reached out and was about to touch Ian, when Ian edged out of the way and stood submissively facing Irons.
Irons pulled himself to his full stature and gazed menacing at Ian.
"Ian is there something you are not telling me." Using his authoritative voice, Irons scrutinized Ian's reactions. There was something about Ian. I'll give him enough rope and he'll hang himself, Irons decided.
Steady, Ian thought, he's fishing. "No sir." He kept his position, unmoving and unemotional.
"Very well, Ian." Irons gave him a gracious smile, "Just make sure you eat breakfast before going to the Zen Mountain Monastery."
Ian nodded. The hairs on the back of his neck standing, he knew that his father sensed something. He only hoped that Sam would arrive soon.
"Will there be anything else, sir?" Ian spoke in a soft tone.
"No, just gather as much information about "the Pure Mystery." Irons walked back to the bed. Malice heavy in his eyes, he watched Ian leave the room.
Disgusted, he went back to his book, wondering if Ian was really 'reprogrammed'. If Ian had been 'reprogrammed', Irons pondered, and it seemed there was a prescience coalescing around him, perhaps he could use Ian as bait. If not, that thought made him pause, no Ian was too subservient, and the cameras had followed every movement. Ian's bathroom morning routine indicated that he was indeed tame. Irons grinned, young Nottingham thought his bathroom was his safe haven. Irons used it as a gauge to determine Nottingham's level of dependability. Away from the eye of the camera, Ian let his guard down, minute things, such as enjoying the hot shower and privacy. Little things added up, Ian proved this morning that the reprogramming had adjusted his values. Ian mechanically done what was necessary while preparing for the day. Irons' mood brightened a little and returned to research his Pure Mystery.
Ian headed for the kitchen to grab a bagel and some orange juice. He paused at the computer terminal in the kitchen to locate the Zen Mountain Monastery. Memorizing the directions, he completed his breakfast. He left the house, slipping into the little black Porsche, he allowed himself to relax. He worked hard to maintain the subservient character, after discovering the device set into his boot; he figured Irons had to have his bathroom wired. He had just gone through the motions of cleaning, remaining emotionless, taking just enough time to make sure he was thorough. Starting the car and pulling out onto the highway, Ian replayed last night's events over in his head. After all that happened, he could only marvel at the woman who was his friend. He set a course for the Zen Mountain Monastery.
*******
Power surged away from Sam, waking her and leaving her breathless. Ian, she closed her eyes and located him. He was unharmed, just attempting to be subservient. She realized he was going to need her help, at least support till she arrived in New York. She was about to dissolve her informal link to Ian when she picked up two topics, the Zen Monastery and Pure Mystery. A chill swept through her; Irons was quicker at identifying the possible source of Power than she thought. She hoped that no harm would befall the Zen Mountain Monastery Brothers. That Refuge was going to act as her halfway house when she returned to the States. Tonight she would have to set up false leads regarding the 'mystery'. But first, a small smile crept across her face; Mr. Irons was in for technical difficulties. She sat up on her futon and stretched. After she cleaned up and ate, she would confer with the Master. Then she would set to work creating an intricate diversion.
It was gonna be a hot time in the faraway city tonight.