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The Perfect World Fallacy - - Chapter 22
Chapter 22
Le Fey’s List
“Everyone in this room, except Jason,” the man in the front of the room began, “Is on this list.”
The man speaking was Chance Rabin, know through out the world as “The Psychic Detective.” He had spent a lot of time and publicity gaining that name. He was the one local police chiefs called when a case had gone cold and the press was eating the cops alive. More often than not Rabin could find some kind of lead or clue that would open things up again. He would then be all over the 24 hour news channels for the following two days. All that would be followed up by his weekly syndicated show, “Chance Rabin, The Psychic Detective,” that played in 67 countries.
The list he spoke of was Le Fey’s hand out to police and vigilante groups everywhere. It was on telephone poles, scrawled along the bottom of the screen on most news shows and was printed on the covers of the new phone books.
The list was the cause of this meeting. This ranch was the only place on Earth that seemed, at least for the moment, beyond the wrath of the list.
“We know that LeFey is self installed as President, so the problem cannot go to far from her,” Rabin said, “Though I am told by several magic users that she wouldn’t have her center of power so close to herself. But, if we are to find that source our only real way to go are through her.”
“How do we get to her?” someone said aloud.
“We are going to have a team to, basically, assault the White House.” The Psychic Detective said, “And we have to have a group that can travel that far without being killed before they get there.”
Mumbling broke out around the room.
“We of the Council,” Rabin said, pointing to a group of 5 who sat at the front of the room, “Have analyzed the group available and chosen 6 people whose actual psychic abilities or magical involvement are slight enough to be cloaked by our folks here. Those six, joined by myself and Jason will be the force.”
“You?” came the general answer.
“I know who you think I am, but,” there was a strongly confessional pause on the man’s part, then “I am only very slightly psi. But I am a hell of a detective.”
There was a momentary lapse of sound in the room, followed by some snickering that only stopped when Jason LeFluer stood.
“I know this man,” the statesmanlike figure said, “I will throw my lot in with him any day.”
This stopped all discussion. Rabin was in and okay.
“Can you take volunteers?” Harriet stood and offered.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Dante, you were one of our first picks,” Rabin smiled, “As is Mr. Claus. We wouldn’t think of doing it without you.”
Harriet sighed and sat. Now the easy part was over.
Now came the war.
© 2009 by C. Wayne Owens