“This one takes the cake, though. If I say something, I risk the chance of getting into lots of trouble. If I keep this to myself, many innocent people will end up dead.” I sat fidgeting, unable to relax.
That night, I lay awake, unable to sleep. The disturbing images I had been shown kept running through my mind. While TJ slept, I sat on the edge of our bed contemplating what to do. An old fashioned black telephone popped before my eyes. Shortly before three o’clock in the morning, I climbed out of bed.
I rushed down the dark hallway into my cold office and flipped on the lights. Switching on the computer, I hunkered down in my squeaky leather chair. I ambitiously searched the web for law enforcement agencies in Washington DC. I needed to figure out which party to call. I’d never dealt with terrorism before. Three choices with numbers were displayed on my screen. These were: the Washington Police Department, FBI or the White House Police. “Spirit, help me,” I begged. The curser instantly moved by itself, lighting up the number that I needed to call. I quickly picked up the phone and dialled the number before I lost the courage.
“Washington Command Post,” a tired male’s soft voice answered.
“Is this the Washington Police Department?” I expected a high pitched rushed telephone operator, not a relaxed gentleman on the other end of the line.
“You’ve reached the command post. I’m the commander, what can I help you with?”
“I’m a psychic medium calling from Canada. I’m calling to warn you of a terrorist attack being planned in Washington DC.” I paused, allowing the officer time to digest what I had said.
“What do you know about an upcoming terrorist attack?” The commander asked.
“I’ve been shown, through progressive drawings, the back balcony of the White House. There is a tall skinny tower about a football field away factored into the scene. Number six keeps being revealed after every frame.” I tried desperately to catch my winded shaking breath.
“What importance does the number have?” The commander inquired, trying to piece together what I had told him.
“Six is a time line. This attack could happen on May sixth, but it could also happen in six weeks, the month of June or six months from now.” I tried to help him understand by pointing out the other possibilities.
“You’re saying this could happen four days from now? Is this correct?” The commander tried to search for confirmation.
“Yes, it could, but timelines are hard to figure out. All I know is when I see things they happen, unless they are stopped.” I seriously hoped he’d be able to handle things himself after receiving this tip.
“Do you know who’s behind this?” the pleasant commander asked.
“No, I haven’t seen faces or names of those involved.” I sat there hoping we were almost off the phone. I felt like I was in over my head.
“What about the method of attack?”
“A bull’s eye appears in the centre of the White House’s back yard. I would assume a bomb.”
“Is there anything else you can tell me?”
“Not right now.” Feeling under pressure, I was relieved that I hadn’t been shown anything else.
“What do you mean by not right now?”
“Sometimes it takes days for visions to completely manifest. I often receive messages in segments instead of everything at once.” I hoped he understood that I wasn’t withholding anything.
“I understand some people have special gifts. I’ve rarely had an opportunity to speak with someone like you. Thank you for calling in. I’ll pass this information along to the proper division.”
Returning to bed, I accidentally woke up TJ. “How come you’re up? Is everything okay?”
“Everything is taken care of. Let’s go to sleep.” I gently slid into bed beside him.
“What were you doing up?” TJ asked, rolling over in a daze.
“I was disturbed after seeing the terrorist attack, so I called the Washington Police,” I briefly explained while pulling up my covers.
“You did what?” My loving husband was now fully awake. “You called Washington DC?” TJ’s tone became excited and loud.
“Yes, I did.”
“How did they react?” He lay beside me trying to cope with what I had just said. “I hope you didn’t leave your name or number.”
“It’s a little too late, I already did.”
“Oh my God,” he freaked in total shock. “I don’t know you. If this place is crawling with cops in the morning, I’ll tell them I’ve never seen you before. I wished you’d just let things be. This isn’t a minor crime you reported. You called in a national threat. You put Washington on alert. You put us at risk behaving this way.”
“Life is full of risks. Living can be dangerous.” I lay there silently regretting opening my big mouth.
“What are the neighbours going to think if our house is surrounded by the police cars?” TJ started squishing up his pillow. I lay there hoping he’d settle and go back to sleep.
“I guess that would be up to them. I haven’t committed a crime. I’m trying to save lives of the innocent. Can’t we just go to sleep?”
“I’m sorry Laura. I didn’t expect you to call the police. I guess Spirit shows you these things, because you’re not afraid to speak up.”
TJ reached over and kissed me goodnight. I was on the verge of falling asleep when another image appeared. This time, a large elongated object moved in the dark. It moved very slowly and steadily around a curve. It appeared to be without wheels. 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