The movement was unusual; almost vessel-like. This seemed to be only a short distance from the White House. I tried figure out what would move like that. It was too smooth for a limo and way too small for a cart. None of these seemed to fit. I couldn’t see a street, but a dark open void, which usually indicates water. Out of exhaustion, I eventually fell asleep.
Morning came early. Being tired, I lazed around in bed while TJ got ready for work. This is when a black and white map lingered in front of my third eye. The map was drawn and labelled with abbreviations. The White House was labelled with a bull’s eye. A solid black oval bomb resembling a grenade was displayed with a wick hanging out of the top. Several Capital “W’s” were placed on various areas of the map. A couple of capital letters “M” and “J” were strategically placed.” A street name was abbreviated “CN”. Number “41” appeared at the very top. I grabbed a pen and paper and wrote everything down. This was going to be a challenge to decipher. I didn’t know Washington. I had never been there.
Early that afternoon, I picked up my ringing phone.
“Hi, I’m an officer with the Washington Police Department,” an authoritative voice boomed. “May I speak with Laura Laforce?”
“Speaking.”
“I’ve been asked to touch base with you. I have a couple of questions to ask.” Before he could continue my other line started to ring. It was another call from Washington. I let it ring through to my voicemail. Instantly I felt unsettled and tense. I kept my wits about me by reminding myself that these people were thousands of miles away and harmless. “I understand you called Washington Police Department in the middle of the night. Is that correct?” “Yes.”
“You spoke of being a psychic medium and of seeing a terrorist attack. You probably heard the news like the rest of the word that Osama Bin Laden is dead. Events like this tend to bring people like you out of the woodwork with illegitimate claims. They waste our time and dollars over their fantasies. I’ve never seen your name in our system before; perhaps you’re legitimate. Past experience with crackpots tells me otherwise. Who did you get this information from?”
“I received the information from my spirit guides.”
“How do I know you’re not attached to the terrorists?”
“I’m not. I don’t know who’s involved. All I know is what I see.”
“Which police department do you currently work for?”
“None, I’m not paid by any police department. I usually work through the victims, and on occasion I’ll call the crime tips line.”
Anxiety set in and my body started to tremble. I found this officer abrasive in the manner he was interrogating me. His attitude towards me was appallingly rude.
“Have you solved any cases?”
“Several.”
“Who are your official police references? I want names and numbers,” he demanded.
“I’m on the road right now, but if you call me back in half an hour, I’ll have some numbers for you.”
“Police references?”
“No, personal references from prominent citizens.”
“Why don’t you have police references?”
“I’ve never required any in the past. Officers I know personally would want to protect their interests.” A severe tension headache started to intensely throb.
“Somebody else will be in contact with you shortly. Perhaps I’ll contact you at some point later on. Good-bye.”
I was relieved to hear his phone line disconnect. When I arrived home, I checked my voice mail. Another cop from the Suspicious Crimes Unit in Washington was waiting for me to return his call. I called TJ at work first, hoping to catch him at his desk. The first time around I was lucky.
“Guess what, TJ?”
“Are the cops buzzing around you?”
“No, but they’ve been on the phone. I regret calling the police last night. I just got off the phone with an abrasive, miserable, nasty cop who’d rather put me through the mill. He was sceptical and treated me like a bloody convict. If there’s ever another time, I’ll keep it to myself. He’s upset me to the point that my head and stomach hurt. Another cop from the Suspicious Crimes Unit is waiting for me to return his call. It’s hard to believe that helping can lead to being ridiculed. I feel like I’m in over my head.”
“You need to talk to that other officer. Don’t think about them all being bad. Perhaps they’re playing good cop, bad cop with you. Sorry dear, but I’ve just been paged, I have to go.”
I needed solid advice from someone in the industry. I called an acquaintance of mine, who happened to be an officer. I told him what was going on.
“Oh Laura, that’s national security. They don’t tread lightly on stuff like this. This is why these guys are behaving like brutes. Don’t supply anyone’s name for a reference. Act tough like me. Tell them they can take the information for what it is or leave it. I can’t believe you informed them. Would it matter if a couple of hundred Americans lose their lives?” He addressed me in a condescending manner.
“Yes, it would.” I couldn’t comprehend why he’d ask such a question.
“Well, it shouldn’t matter to you. Do you ever see anyone trying to save the Arabs? People are going to die. Whites and coloured are sacrificed daily around the world. Governments randomly dispose of people like chess pawns.”
“I don’t agree with you. These innocent people are individuals with souls. I wasn’t referring to skin tones and ethnic groups. Perhaps you need to look deeper.” I excused myself before gently hanging up the phone.
I made myself a cup of tea. Before returning the call I allowed my nerves to settle. I closed my eyes for a few minutes and connected with my guides. “Why is it that you guys give me the harder jobs? Wasn’t there someone more capable of handling this than me?” A shining beam of light entered my line of vision; right away, I understood things would be all right. I grabbed the phone and called the officer who was patiently waiting.
“Hi, this is Laura Laforce. I’m returning your call.”
“Hi Laura, I appreciate you calling me back.” His tone was genuine and his energy was upbeat. “I understand you’re gifted and that you’ve seen a terrorist attack?”
“Yes, I saw a terrorist attack drawn out.”
“I understand you’re a psychic. My roommate in college was that way. I envy people like you; unfortunately not all my colleagues feel the same.”
Immediately I trusted this officer. I could share important information without it being censored. This person was capable of understanding and was willing to work with me.
“What did you see?
