Love Story: In The Web of Life by Ken Renshaw (snow like ashes TXT) 📕

subject matter for a while. Steve Manteo isa highly credentialed and decorated remote sensing psychic spy fromthe US cold war intelligence effort. He tried to help in a Searchand Rescue mission in the Sierras. He told the Sheriff exactlywhere the lost girl was. The Sheriff blew him off and had himescorted off the premises. The search and rescue operation searchedthe wrong area, and the lost girl was found frozen to death laterin exactly the place where the Steve predicted. The parents of thegirl have a civil case against the county and the Sheriff, allegingthat the Sheriff was negligent for not using all the resourcesavailable to him.

"I will have to show that remote sensing is ascientifically valid way to locate a missing person: Steve Manteowas qualified to find the girl and that he was correct in what hetold the Sheriff."

Phil observed, "I sense you are a littleuncomfortable with all this."

"Frankly," I replied, "I am a little bit afraidI will lose my scientific credibility among my peers in the patentlaw crowd. I might become the topic of jokes among my peers. Colsonassures me that the scientific validity is there. Dore is makingthe introductions for me to meet with people who have been doingresearch in the field."

"Dave, we assigned you to this because ifanyone can make the scientific case, you can. Let me know if youstart to feel that there is not a good scientific case. We can passthe case off to one of the firms that specialize in legal circuses.Colson said he didn't want to go that way. He wants to establishthe scientific validity of this psychic stuff, as well as help thedistressed parents.

"Keep me informed," Phil said as he rose fromsitting, signaling the end of the meeting.

I was sweating, and my hands were wet. I wasapprehensive about where this was taking my career.

As I returned to my office, Zaza asked, "Areyou a bad boy? You look white."

'No, everything is fine,' I lied and thought,'what in the world have I got into?'

I checked my email, then googledRemote Sensing. After reading awhile, I thought of channeling and then thought of Tina. I textedher the message that I'd like to find out aboutchanneling.

As I was about to leave the office, I got acall from Tina. "I'd be delighted to introduce you to channeling.You are in luck. One of the best, Herondus, is having an evening ofchanneling Friday night at a hotel down by the airport. I have astaff meeting after school, but I can meet you there. It starts at8:00."

"Great!" I replied. "Want to make it dinnertoo?"

"Can't. I wouldn't be able to get there untilafter seven. I'll meet you in the lobby. Oh, by the way it costsfifty bucks."

"No problem," I replied. "My treat."

"In that case it will be one hundred bucks,"she said with a giggle. “I have to go now. I'll see you in the mainballroom lobby of the Adventure Hotel about 7:30 on Friday.Bye."

"Bye," I replied as she hung up. She didn'tseem very friendly. I wished I could see her. I felt a little bitempty.

Friday at 7:30, I was in the main ballroomlobby of the Adventure Hotel on Century Boulevard, the street thatruns parallel to the runway at LAX. The hotel was one of the betterones at LAX. It had changed hands after the financial crash in2008, had recently reopened after being remodeled and updated, nowwith a European-modern feel with backlighted glass panels, chromefixtures, and chrome legged lobby chairs. I peeked in the ballroomand was surprised that it would seat several hundred people. A fewpeople, early birds, were seated near the front, hands in lap, eyesclosed, gently smiling: apparently meditating. Soft New Age musicplayed. A door attendant said I couldn't go in until I hadregistered, and pointed to a table behind which two ladies werecollecting money and credit cards and having people sign whatlooked like a legal form. I was surprised the people who wereregistering were very normal looking. Some were professionals inbusiness clothes, others in jeans, and casual attire. Many lookedas if they bought their clothes at those trendy stores on MelroseAvenue, where you can buy jeans with holes in the knees forhundred-fifty dollars. I noticed two ladies with long brunettehair, combed straight, hair much longer than it might be naturally,and probably weaved at some expensive Beverly Hillsshop.

'This is not New Age,' I thought, 'I had beenexpecting people to look more like the clerks in the health foodstore.'

I saw Tina approaching, accompanied by anotherwoman who was taller than Tina, with short black hair, in a kind ofpixie cut, maybe in her early thirties, looking kind of academic,but with soft, friendly eyes They both were dressed as though theyhad come from a college classroom, in jeans, sneakers, and sweatersover simple tops.

'The old wingman trick,' I thought. Womenappear with a friend when they need protection from unwantedadvances or conversations.

Tina walked up and gave me a kiss on the cheekand a firm hug and backed away to make the introduction.

"Dave, this is Elise Burton. Elise, This isDave Willard."

"Hi Dave," said Elise, "Tina has told me allabout you,"

I felt a little naked.

"Elise did her dissertation on the study ofabout fifty channels who have meetings around the LA area. Herondusis on the top of her list. If you want to know a lot more aboutchanneling she is a good person to talk to. We had better registerand stake out some good seats."

I quickly walked over and got in line for theregistrar. Elise was behind me. When the registrar looked at me, Isaid "Three" and produced my credit card.

She ran my card and gave me three of the legalforms, which were also tickets, and brochures of upcoming events. Ihanded one to Elise and one to Tina. Elise lookedshocked.

"You didn't have to...." started Elise, rollingher eyes.

"Yes he did..." interrupted Tina smilingbroadly as she walked over, took my arm affectionately, and steeredme to the entrance.

"All for research," I said, as we walkedthrough the door to the ballroom.

The ambiance of the room was electric, like thecrowd at a big football game waiting for the kickoff, or like thecrowd in a