This is a work of fiction any resemblance to anyone alive or dead is unintentional.

In the taxi, I tried to reflect on what had happened so far that day. The presence of Oliver meant that whoever his controllers were, they had access to someone in the US hierarchy. So it very much looked as if the people who were trying to get me were also the ones after the president. In some ways that made things feel just a tad simpler, if not easier. Why, I wondered had they attacked me before all of this. I mean, if Superman had been expected, I could understand them stocking up on Kryptonite, but me?

I did have friends in high or low places, depending upon where you placed the ‘Otherworld’, and my connection with Sekhmet had proved life saving a few times. I felt the gun against my leg, I wasn’t sure if I felt more or less safe with it.

According to the ‘plan’, the president would be assassinated the following night by a mad pilot, suicide bomber, crashing into the embassy. Of course we all knew, the bomb was actually in the vicinity of the room she would be occupying, already. I also knew, the assassins were Americans using the Muslim extremists as the scape-goats. I shuddered to think what would happen if the plot was successful, partly because it would mean I was likely to be dead myself, but also on a more global scale there would be massive fall out. I could see cruise missiles or bombers on their way to some Middle Eastern country and lots of bloodshed as the US took its supposed revenge. Whereas in fact, it would be probably closer to the truth to bomb Dallas or Boston, or wherever these monsters originated or now dwelt.

Suddenly, I was in Grosvenor Square. I paid the taxi and walked up to the security guard at the gate. I had called at the office and collected a pass. I showed it to the guard, he pointed to a man stood just inside the door. I thanked him and followed his instructions. I entered the door and passed the armed marine inside, we nodded at each other, but I could see the safety catch on his M16 gun, was in the off position. I hoped he didn’t drop it.

There were queues of folks trying to get visas and other everyday stuff, and I walked past them to the man indicated by the original guard. I showed him the pass. “Ah Captain Curtis, we have been expecting you. The president requested you personally. I guess you must have met someplace, ‘cause it’s quite an honour.” I acknowledged this fact, without saying I’d rather it hadn’t happened. I began to understand another reluctant participant in a big game who had second thoughts in a certain garden, called Gethsemane. I however, stopped the parallel there, I was certainly no sacrificial god-king.

Colonel Scott, the man to whom I was speaking, or who was actually speaking to me, continued, “Have your office actually instructed you on what they mean by liaison, ‘cause to me, it don’t mean a darned thing.”

“I think, it’s about making sure that we interact in unison with what you’re doing, so we don’t duplicate or end up shooting each other.” I had no idea what liaison meant in this sort of mission. To start with all this sort of stuff would have protocols to be followed which would be the domain of some desk jockey on both sides. I wouldn’t be much use because I didn’t know anyone on either side, so I could hardly be an introduction service.

“That’s all taken care of, come with me.” He led me down a corridor to a suite of rooms where there was every surveillance gadget known to mankind. “I also know you’re carrying a weapon, in a very interestin’ place, Miss Curtis.”

I blushed and declined to see the footage on tape of where my gun showed itself to the machine. “I hope you know how to use it,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic.

“I’m pretty sure which bit is called the trigger, and I suspect I will be able to work out which end the bullets come out of,” I said, playing the blonde bimbo.

“Sure glad to know that. I think it may be best if we team you up with one of our women operatives.” What Col. Scott didn’t say was, “To keep you out from under the big boys feet. The only reason you’re here at all is because the president asked for you. So we’ve indulged her, you’re here. However, we’re going to put you on knitting patrol, or some other such distraction to which women are supposed to be suited.”

An attractive woman walked into the room, “Ah Cassie, this is Captain Curtis from the British secret service, I wondered if she could shadow you?”

“Why of course sir,” she walked to me and we shook hands. “Hi, I’m Cassie Mulholland, President’s liaison service.

“Jamie Curtis, SIS, how do you do?” Her hand was cold and soft. I didn’t sense any untoward energy.

“Come with me, let’s get out of this bedlam. Fancy a coffee?” she led me down a series of corridors.

“I prefer tea, if you have it,” I replied to her question. Inside, however, all I wanted to do was sit down for a bit, my shoes were killing me.

Ten minutes later, we were sat in her office sipping Earl Grey and talking like old friends. “You’re like in SIS?” she asked me, almost rhetorically.

“Yes,” I answered, wondering what was coming next.

“So that’s like MI5 and 6?” she asked, raising an eyebrow, “You don’t look like a spook to me?” Given my previous reputation at the hospital, I had to stifle a laugh.

“Sorry to disappoint,” I said lamely.

“I mean, they’re all licensed to kill and all that stuff. You’re not, are you?”

“Why? Aren’t you armed and dangerous?” I threw back at her.

“I don’t need a gun to be dangerous darlin’, I can stop them with a look.” We both laughed at her sense of humour, which was a suitable riposte to mine. “Yeah, we carry guns, but I’ve never shot anyone. Have you?”

Deciding that honesty was not necessarily the best policy, I was economical with the actuality, “Do I look like a hired gun?” A quick flash of the Magnificent Seven, went through my mind.

“Hardly. So what you wanna do?” She asked, pouring me another cup of tea.

“We have a choice?” I said, surprised by her answer.

“Sure do.”

“I’ve never been in an embassy before, so could you show me round.” I thought it was the easiest and quickest way to see the area I believed was at risk.

“Don’t see why not,” she replied smiling.

“Can we see the presidential suite, I’m sure it’s something special.” I pleaded, pretending I was interested in the furnishings.

“That’s usually off limits.” She said, looking very serious.

“Oh,” I said looking very disappointed.

“Let me see,” she looked through some sort of rota, “Hal Butcher is on after lunch, he owes me one. I’ll see what I can do to accommodate your request,” she said pretending to be officious. Then she smiled and we both fell about laughing.

“So how long have you been in this business?” I asked Cassie. She was about thirtyish, I’d guess.

“About five years, I went back to college and got my doctorate and then joined the company.”

“What, the CIA?” I asked in genuine surprise, though why, I didn’t quite know.

“Who else?” she said, looking at me as if I was some sort of retarded schoolgirl.

“Sorry, but I’m pretty new to all this cloak and dagger stuff.” I said, using the same sort of approach which had worked before. One day, I’d be too old to use it, but until then…

“So how come the president knows you?” she threw back at me.

“That’s a long story,” I said hoping she’d get the hint that I didn’t want to talk about it.

Sadly she didn’t because a moment later she said, “We have plenty of time before lunch, so why don’t you just spill those beans for your aunt Cassie.”

“Okay, edited highlights. I’m a nurse.” I started on my saga, leaving out the seeing dead people, and my connection with Sekhmet etc. “And I get these hunches, which are usually right. It helped with one or two things and the PM got to hear of it, I was invited to attend a dinner and your president was there.”

“You’ve kinda brushed over one or two things according to my computer, like a couple of rather nice awards for bravery. A George Medal? That ain’t to be sniffed at, neither is a Distinguished Conduct Medal. I presume they don’t give them out for being the tidiest nurse on the block?”

“In my case they did.” I blushed as I still felt unworthy of both of them.

“According to this, your CV is one long catalogue of derring-do. Not bad for a greenhorn nurse.” She looked me up and down.

“How do you know all this?” I asked, blushing some of which was embarrassment and some indignation.

“Shall we say it’s our business to know about our friends as well as our enemies. It says here, you’re, “Extremely psychic and capable of significant psychokinetic energy.” She paused for a moment before saying, “What’s that mean?”

“Probably that I’m a total nutcase.” I blushed again.

“You saved the president’s life at Chequers. Wow, this is some CV.”

“Both of us were set up by your NSA people, and I use the latter term advisedly.” She grinned at me, but I was angry with them. At her badgering I told her briefly what had happened.

“Now, why are you really here?” she asked looking me straight in the eye.

“I was invited.” I replied, trying to evade her question.

“Shit, you were.” She stroked her chin with a long index finger. “Now tell me the truth, it won’t go outside these walls.”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” I said feeling very pressured.

“Can’t or won’t?” she said back to me.

“Can’t. I can’t explain a feeling I have.” I was lying but it was near enough the truth.

“About what?” she asked, her gaze almost burning through me, all pretence and giggling schoolgirl humour was gone.

“I believe someone will try and kill the president,” I said.

“So they sent you here to stop it. A one woman task force.” She shook her head as she spoke.

“Not quite, because they don’t know about it, you’re the first one I’ve told.” I was lying and I hated doing it, but I really didn’t know who I could trust and who was a threat.

“So you’re here by coincidence?” she asked and I nodded. “That is sure one big coincidence.”

“Well according to Jung, his theory of synchronicity…” I began, but she cut me off.

“Look honey, I majored in psychology, I have Jung and Freud coming outta ma ears. So don’t you BS me with psychobabble. Why are you here?”

“Alright, I’ll tell you,” I said and she leant forward to hear every word. “Her Majesty is fed up with Phil and thinks if she kills off Susan, she can have Billy boy all to herself.”

Cassie sat back and nodded her head, pretending she was considering my fantasy as a possible line of enquiry. Then she looked me in the eye and said, “I didn’t figure you for a timewaster Jamie, so cut the crap. Tell me what you really think.”

“If I told you the president was to be killed here, you wouldn’t believe me, unless you were in on the plot.”

“You are one crazy Brit. This is the safest place in the world outside the Whitehouse.”

“I don’t believe you,” I replied.

“Look, Missy, I haven’t got time for the whys and wherefores, but you take my word for it, it is very safe.”

“What if you were plotting to kill the president?”

“Don’t be stupid honey-bunch, I’m here to prevent that happening, along with two hundred other folk.”

“Okay, I’ll just go back to my office and file a report which they can use in the enquiry which will follow the assassination. It’s a great pity because I quite like your president.”

“Now hold your horses there, who says you’re going anywhere?”

“I did.”

“Not until you tell me more about your hunch, and I tell my boss, unless you’d like to tell him yourself.”

“It’s a classic conspiracy, I don’t know who I can trust and who is the enemy. I feel I can trust you, but I’m not sure about anyone else. So I refuse to tell anyone else.”

“Look, Missy, we’ve been under surveillance ever since we got here, they only need to run the tapes and it will all be on there.” She smirked a little as she told me this.

“I know, but they’ll be greatly disappointed.” I said smiling broadly.

“What do you mean?” she demanded.

“They’ll have footage of you talking to yourself, I won’t appear on the tapes nor will my voice.”

“Don’t be silly, hon, of course you’ll be on there.”

“Like your computer?”

“Well, yes.”

“Look again,” I said.

“Oh my God, what have you done to my computer?” She shrieked at me, “What is this stuff?”

“Fawlty Towers,” I said, “It’s very funny.” Now it was my turn to be smug.

“How did you do that?” she said, frantically trying to call up my dossier.

“Who said I did it?” I smirked.

“Well I sure didn’t, and there’s no one else here.”

“What about the little cat behind you?”

She turned around and was eyeball to eyeball with a full size lioness, It purred and licked her face, at which point she fainted and fell back in her chair. “Oops,” I said.

At this point, I erased the whole tape and all any current surveillance would see was an empty room. I then dealt with my ‘sleeping’ friend. She gradually came around, and looked at me very strangely. After collecting her wits, she said, “That was real clever, you really had me fooled.” Then she began laughing, until the loud purring from behind her suddenly made her turn very pale and she went silent. “Turn it off,” she said loudly, “Stop it, whatever it is. Stop it,” then she quietly added, “please.”

“You are quite safe.” I said reassuringly, “She’s one of my little helpers, and very friendly. She would be mortified to think you didn’t like her.” I smiled at the wide eyed look I got back.

After a short hesitation, when she appeared she was going to speak but didn’t, she managed to say, “I’m not dreaming am I?”

“Not as far as I know,” I replied.

“In which case, how is there a freakin’ lion in my office?”

“I brought her.” I said, smiling at her quite smugly.

“How the holy shit, did you get her past the security system?”

“The same way as I got all the others in.”

“What? Just how many are there?” She slumped back in the chair.

“Six or seven, more if I need them.”

“Six or seven freakin lions…”

“Lionesses,” I corrected her.

“Lions, lionesses, what’s it freakin’ matter?”

“It matters to them, and to another one; besides, lions are nowhere near as biddable or courageous.”

“Okay, so you’re Joy freakin’ Adamson, and Elsa behind me is real nice. How come security ain’t seen ‘em, let alone neutralised them?”

“They’re invisible until I tell them otherwise.” I told her.

“Right, so I just got licked by an invisible freakin’ lion.”

“No, I told her to let you see her.”

“I’m losing my freakin’ marbles here. Just who the fuck are you?”

“You are quite sane, things are strange and shall we say, I was sent by the universe to prevent this mischief which could have catastrophic implications, were it to happen.”

“You’re like some heavenly agent? An angel?” She looked more bewildered and frightened than ever. “Do you know, like Jesus, personally?” She seemed to be reverting to an almost little girl mode.

“No, not personally, I come from a time long before his.” I tried to smile reassuringly.

“Why have you involved me?” she asked looking very fearful, “I’m a good Christian girl.”

“Your beliefs are irrelevant to me,” I told her, “What you feel or believe is your affair, none are better or worse than any other in theory, it’s their practical application which causes the problems.”

“I guess so.” This was said in a little girl voice. The purring from behind her seat continued. “Can I look at her?”

“Of course you can, you can touch her if you like.”

She slowly swivelled her chair around and looked fearfully at the lioness. Then she hesitatingly reached out, drew back her hand quickly, paused and then touched the head of the lioness. In return, the lioness rubbed her head against Cassie’s hand, like a large domestic cat. Then she flopped down on the floor, and presented her tummy for a rub. Cassie squealed at first, then began to laugh. The lioness wriggled about on its back, and Cassie, probably thinking she was completely mad leaned over from her chair and rubbed the tummy of the big cat, who purred even louder.

“This is insane,” she repeated to herself, several times.

“Maybe,” I allowed, “but it’s nice, all the same.”

“Wait till I tell my kids about this…”

“I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible,” I explained to her.

“Why not, I think it’s kinda cute?”

“I’m glad you’ve taken to Sheba so well, and she is certainly enjoying it, but you’ll forget this ever happened when we leave this office.”

“How can you be…?” she began.

“Trust me, I know about these things.”

“So are you from another planet, some sort of ET?”

“No, well yes, I’m from Planet Oxford, it’s a little world all of its own built mainly of ivory towers, inhabited by creatures whose brains are so big they are carried around in brief cases.”

She laughed at my spoof. “Are you gonna tell me who you really are?”

“Jamie Curtis.”

“No you’re not.”

“That is my name, this is the body into which I was born twenty years ago.”

“You’re twenty and a captain in the secret service, man, you are special?”

“I thought we’d established that fact. I think you’ve seen enough of my tricks, so how about we go and find your little friend and allow me to see the Presidential suite?”

“You could earn a fortune, doing this stuff?”

“I am here to try and save the world as we know it, making money is not one of my priorities. If others perhaps felt the same, this might be a better place in which to live.”

“I guess so,” she said looking a little shamefaced.