The Cauldron By Charles Goodwin Chapter 7

The Founding of Chiron

Chapter 7

So Close Yet So Far

Rebecca was about to enter damage control mode.

She tried in desperation to conceal the apprehensive state that overwhelmed her as Paul used the security key card in the door of his executive suite. She felt no excitement. There were no feelings of passion or even anticipation. Only a deep rooted sensation of sterile inadequacy.

She’d surprised herself when deciding at the restaurant to give herself to Paul. A decision that was as uncharacteristic as it was calculating - a decision she knew at the time to be right. Yet the doubts were now certainly there - ticking away at her nervous fuses - as if primed to explode at the first available excuse for a hurried exit.

Why can’t real life be like the romance novels, she thought wistfully. The heroine in a state of perpetual virginal innocence, romantically seduced by the hero. The wonderful passionate love making - even at the first attempt - and concluding with the implied erotic orgasm. And finally after all the contrived conflicts are overcome, the blissful and ‘happy ever after’ ending.

However, this was of course not a novel. The disquiet in her mind and panic in her heart was intensely real. The probability that the episode would end in a fumbling and frustrating disaster, was just too great to contemplate.

Paul pushed the door closed behind them with the back of his shoe. He sensed Rebecca’s trepidation and wasted no time in holding her firmly in his arms. ‘Please don’t feel nervous about being here,’ he whispered. ‘We can talk for a while. I promise I’ll take you home whenever you say.’

She looked softly into Paul’s caring eyes. ‘I love you Paul - and I don’t want to go home. I’ll be fine in a moment or two. I’m just feeling a trifle tense,’ and then she thought, God, what an understatement. I’m standing here like an unpaid call girl, precariously balanced between the two extreme desires of celibacy and all consuming sexual lust, and I say, I’m a trifle tense!

‘Look, try to relax on the couch for a few moments while I get the champagne and glasses.’

Rebecca took two deep breaths as she sat on the edge of the leather chesterfield. Her fingers began to tremble. She could feel her face flushing a warm red - yet the rest of her body felt strangely cold. A definite part of her still earnestly wanted to make a hurried exit for the door.

The cork popped and she looked up startled.

Paul exuded an annoying confidence as he sat down along side her. He filled the champagne flutes and handed her a glass. ‘Rebecca my darling, I would like to propose a toast. To you and I - our happiness together - for ever and ever.’

‘To us,’ she replied as their two glasses tinkled.

They sipped their champagne. The doubts and the tension within Rebecca steadily receded.

‘I love you. I love you so exquisitely, he whispered, and his expression displayed gentle proof of his statement.

‘I love you too,’ she replied.

He ran his finger so softly from the centre of her forehead, slowly down around her cheek and to her chin. He retraced the same stimulating path on the opposite side of her face. ‘You are beautiful. Do you know that?’ he said with such absolute conviction.

She shuddered with longing. Her moist eyes now highlighting an inner bliss. ‘Hold me Paul. For God’s sake hold me tight.’

Without disturbing the magical spell of their oneness flowing from each to the other’s eyes, they placed their near empty glasses onto the coffee table.

‘Oh I do love you,’ he cried as they embraced.

Rebecca’s heart pounded like a Zulu drum beat. She felt once again the same wondrous serenity of belonging. She became tense with unfulfilled passion and yearning. Her fingers dug deep into his back.

He kissed her feverishly. His pulse and breathing quickened.

Rebecca felt his warm hands now inching under her skirt. His fingers teasing - exploring their way to higher and expanding sensations. She found herself assisting by allowing her legs to gently part.

And she felt a twinge of surprise that not even a distant echo of protest, arose from her mind to stem her desires.

‘Paul darling,’ she gasped, ‘not here on the couch. Let’s go to bed.’

Paul didn’t reply. Nor did he need to hear Rebecca’s offer twice. He quickly stood up, adjusted his clothing for manly comfort, and led Rebecca to the bedroom.

Paul sensed that even in this situation, Rebecca felt a need to control and to take responsibility for the outcome of the proceedings instead of allowing their love and passion a degree of free expression. And he smiled as he watched Rebecca in the subdued light and with her back turned, shyly slip out of her skirt, blouse, stockings and underwear and reach hurriedly for the protective modesty of the eiderdown.

In contrast, Paul with true showmanship, stood proudly erect at the side of the bed in front of Rebecca. Her curious eyes examining him as he methodically undressed.

‘You look beautiful naked,’ she said, eyeing his nakedness and his full manhood.

‘Now that is the line I am supposed to give to you,’ he replied. ‘But you streaked into bed so quickly, I didn’t get a chance to catch even an admiring glance.’

She reached out her arms from under the quilt, beckoning Paul to join her. ‘Well what are you waiting for? I’m lying here quite naked - ready, willing and I hope, able.’

The touch was electric.

The radiant warmth of Rebecca’s body, contrasting with the cold sheets, felt like the north and south poles of a power-packed magnet connecting for the first time. Paul trembled with kinetic energy as billions of his body cells pulsated with pure excitement. The lovers hugged and kissed with wild ferocity. He could feel her warm firm breasts pressing tightly up against his chest - and he fell deeper, and deeper, and ever deeper into Rebecca’s enchanting spell.

‘Oh Rebecca, you feel incredible. You’re absolutely mind blowing. So soft - so warm. Darling I love you!’

‘And you feel so bloody wonderful,’ she gasped.

‘Please. I want to look at you!’ said Paul. And before she could utter a protest, he sat up between her outstretched legs and pushed the eiderdown to the floor.

Rebecca was overtaken with insecure shyness. She fluttered her eyelashes in a desperate attempt to seduce him back on top of her. She instinctively reached out her arms, to draw him safe to her bosom once again.

‘Darling I feel embarrassed,’ she whispered plaintively.

Kissing - cuddling naked - even intercourse, she would enjoy. But not this. Not those confident eyes staring down at her naked ‘imperfect’ body. Not those experienced eyes, that would surely judge - and compare - and scrutinize!

‘Please Paul, don’t..!’

But Paul was resistive.

‘No Rebecca. I want to look at you. Please relax, you have a beautiful body. Darling, I need to admire and appreciate the total you. Please don’t hold back from me.’

‘But Paul......’

Paul placed his finger over his pursed lips and shook his head. ‘No buts...shsh.. Rebecca I love you intently. I know you’d like to call the shots - but I need to make love to you. My only desire is to please you. So please, just relax. It is time you also learnt the meaning of the word surrender.’

Paul was only too aware that his strong attraction and excitement for Rebecca, might result in a premature ejaculation. He needed to gain the time and the required control to lavish on her the sensual pleasures he so intensively felt the urge to give. For the first time ever, he felt the desire to please and to express his love to a woman - rather than merely taking. And he certainly wasn’t about to allow any nervous anxiety on Rebecca’s part to interfere with his plans.

Rebecca closed her eyes and tried to relax. She lay before him displaying her full naked beauty. She felt his warm presence by her side - and he began showering kisses, ever so sensuously, over her forehead and upon her closed eyelids, and down upon her cheeks. She arched her back. He now delicately kissed and teased her sensitive earlobes and neck - sending a stimulating shiver trembling down her spine.

Slowly Paul moved his lips to her firm breasts. The short light kisses were interspaced by gentle loving licks to her erect nipples. Exquisite mini-drafts of cool air tingled her skin surfaces. She gasped, and her consciousness beyond thought, merged with the touch sensation. Her responsiveness heightened as Paul with aesthetic mastery, suckled on her maternal breasts.

As if in an ecstatic dream state, she was now aware of Paul sliding to the base of the bed. Of Paul leaning over her as his lips began softly kissing her toes and ankles. He held each of her feet in turn, with both hands - embraced them wantonly against his cheeks - loving them with tingling licks and kisses. And now he gently parted her legs. His tongue salaciously licked at her inner white thighs - erotically teasing. Rebecca held her breath and shuddered - one second - two seconds - three seconds ...Then gasped.

Her shyness had disappeared into limbo. She felt charged with passion. Praying - almost demanding - that his moist lips would now stimulate her lubricous vaginal folds. She placed her hand on the back of Paul’s head to direct him to her yearning.

With the sensitive strokes of a master artist, his exquisite tongue and probing fingers found her inviting home.

‘Oh Paul,’ she squealed.

Her gasping breath intensified Her hands gripped the sheets and her passion became ever more elevated.

His face now buried sensually between her receptive legs, Paul felt utterly enthralled that loving a woman could be so enchantingly beautiful. Rebecca was the archetypal earth mother goddess who he’d gladly spend the rest of his life worshipping.

I love making love to her. She’s so wonderful, he thought, and he could feel Rebecca’s body Kundalini heat rising at the base of her spine as she writhed and moaned with pleasure.
‘Paul, I want you. Darling I’m coming,’ she shouted. ‘I want you inside me!’

But Paul gently turned her over and coaxed her up to a kneeling position so that her face was now partly buried in the satin soft eiderdown.

‘Oh no!’ she shivered as she felt Paul teasingly begin to enter her from behind. He held back - then slowly with hands securing her slim waist, he penetrated, slowly, centimeter by tormenting centimeter.

Rebecca moaned.

His hardened warmth now seemed deep - incredibly deep - like an exquisite pain that just wouldn’t stop.

Paul was strong and vigorous - then slow and tantalizing. His virile manhood thrust deeper and harder - then shallow and soft. He used his Tantric breathing techniques - concentrated breath, in from the root chakra - to postpone and control ejaculation. His thoughts were to please her, and his pleasure came from knowing he was succeeding.

Rebecca’s tension came to explosive point.

‘Breathe shallower - quicker. Don’t come yet. Hold on to it.’ Rebecca’s perplexed mind submitted to her heart and to Paul’s instructions.

‘Open your mouth wider, take in more breath. Breath faster, shallow but faster...that’s it - keep it up!’

‘I’m feeling light headed. Paul what are you doing to me?’ she wailed.

‘Keep the breathing up - don’t stop. Full shallow breaths - that’s right keep it coming darling.’ Paul’s rhythmic penetration was relentless.

Rebecca squealed.

‘No, louder Rebecca - louder!’ he ordered.

Rebecca squealed again, but this time with more force.

‘Rebecca, let it go. Shriek from your heart! Without any restraint. Be total! Keep breathing hard,’ shouted Paul with intimidating dynamism.

‘I can’t Paul,’ she cried panting. ‘I’m scared.’

‘Yes you can,’ he commanded. ‘Let it go. From your soul!’

Suddenly, with a tumultuous volcanic eruption of release, Rebecca screamed - and screamed. She screamed unrelentlessly from her heart. In a state of near total hysteria, years of repressed negativity overflowed from the depths of her being. And for the first time she experienced female ejaculation. Primal love fluid flooded down her legs and onto the sheets. An orgasmic and spiritual experience - shattering her sense of identity and boundaries.’

‘Keep it going - don’t stop!’

But now his voice was distant. An exhilarating ecstasy and total awareness had infused through her spirit. She burst into uncontrollable tears. Tears of childhood sorrows that were never before released - tears of love and compassion for herself, for her lover and for the world - blood tears of sufferings of past and distant lives.

And she felt Paul’s throbbing. Surrendering his masterly control. He yielded with a haunting shamanic warrior-like cry that echoed into her spirit.

She collapsed sobbing into the wetness - drained and exhausted.

Paul encouraged her to the dry side of the bed and cuddled her maternally to his chest. He pulled the warm eiderdown. protectively up over both their bodies. ‘It’s all right darling,’ he soothed. ‘Let it all out. You are so beautiful.’ And he rocked her and kept repeating in a whisper, ‘Darling I love you - I love you - I love you....’

Rebecca couldn’t reply. She hugged Paul and sobbed into the safety of his arms. No audible words were possible. God what have I missed out on all my life? Oh Paul you were wonderful. I love you, she sighed under her breath. The words drifted off into the ethers.

And she whispered her thankfulness to the Angels of Love.

The two lovers laid securely in each others arms experiencing the rainbow afterglow of love making - and like babes hopelessly lost in the dark and evil woods, they innocently surrendered their hold on consciousness - and drifted peacefully into impermanent rest.

And the storm clouds loomed!


Her watch showed three minutes past the witching hour.

Rebecca, serenely elevated in spirits - as if floating on a white cloud on a beautiful sunny day - tip-toed into her apartment and peered quietly into her flat mate’s bedroom.

Monica slept peacefully, her doll like face bathed in the lunar light.

Rebecca heard Paul’s car drive off into the distance and the noise momentarily broke the silent sanctity of the night.

She was alone in her bedroom but not lonely. The out flowing love from her heart transcended the physical barriers of distance, allowing her to still feel the warm oneness with Paul. ‘I love you Paul,’ she whispered and she slipped out of her clothes and into her white nylon negligee. She lit a sweet smelling nag-champa incense stick upon her dressing table, and gazed wondrously into the compassionate eyes of Buddha, Jesus and Wakonda - eyes that smiled knowingly at her from the pictures along side the smoking incense.

She flipped her old meditation cassette tape ‘Call of the Angels’ over onto side two, and pressed ‘play’.

Rebecca laid in bed on her back and soon succumbed to a state of meditative relaxation. She drifted into the twilight zone state between consciousness and deep sleep. Her active mind replayed without order or sequence, the thoughts and images of the day’s and the previous evening’s incredible events.

Wave particle ‘electricity’ stirred into vibrancy by her risen Kundalini energy and the full moon, sparkled effervescently from her astral body - like bubbles rising in a champagne glass.

Distorted dimensional psychic visions jumbled past her third eye, as if her mind was now a television receiver minus a tuner, picking up dozens of channels simultaneously.

And as the music played, her consciousness wafted dreamily in and out of her physical body.

‘Click!’ The forty five minute tape switched itself off automatically.

By the end of the tape, Rebecca normally would have been in a deep slumber. But to the awakening soul the term normality becomes relative - relative only to the limitations recorded onto the blank tape of the mind. Thus to Rebecca, her experience of normality was gradually being superseded by experiential totality!

Rebecca awoke with a frightened start.

In her half sleep she’d experienced the sudden and unforgettable ‘dropping, or falling sensation’ caused by the astral body crash landing back into the physical. And with equal suddenness she became aware of the reason why she had re-entered her body so abruptly.

Out of nowhere, the unchanging sound manifested.

She held back her breath and listened.

At first the sound lacked in audio clarity. An anomalous yet deeply familiar ancient sound. Not musical or even melodic, but more a vibration - or a prolonged harmonic chord.

Rebecca laid perfectly still in her bed. The moon lit shadows danced playfully on her dressing table mirror and pictures.


The enthralling sound was now distinct and filled her bedroom. She could sense the subtle vibration of her own life force vibrating in harmony with the mysterious drone. The resonant ‘Aum’ intensified and she began to experience a heightened sensitivity engulfing her.

And in this astrally energized sublime state she rose from her bed. She felt for the matches near her pictures on the dressing table and ceremoniously lit her three meditation candles. She lifted her negligee over her bare shoulders and sat naked and erect in front of her mirror.

Eerie shadows from the flickering candles now danced upon the walls about her. The energy in the room intensified.

‘Wakonda,’ she called softly into nothingness. ‘Is that you?’

Rebecca’s awestruck eyes penetrated into the mirror. Her reflection became hazy then distorted. Time became no time. Now Wakonda’s face overshadowed her own in the mirror. And her own lips began to move - yet she ‘felt’ (rather than heard) Wakonda’s mellow voice conversing from the image in the reflection.

His words began by answering the unasked question that was paramount in her mind.

‘Rebecca, we are using a technique that has been used for centuries for entities to view their past lives. The ‘Aum’ or ‘Ohm’ sound is the basic unit of vibration from which all creation springs. It is the merged total sound of God - of love - and of creation.’

Tears filled Rebecca’s eyes in devotion as the beautiful voice of Wakonda pervaded her being.
‘As is it written,’ he continued, ‘In the beginning was the word. Amen or Ah-men in the Christian faith is a derivative alluding to the same totality.

By repeating the Aum chant as a meditation, in the early hours of the morning, and in front of a mirror and lighted candles, initiates can experience their past earth life personalities.

This technique, I have now used to contact you.’

Then without warning the shadows shimmered and took on daunting forms and colors. The voice changed to a tone of dire caution. ‘Rebecca, both you and Monica are in imminent danger!’

Her heart thumped.

‘Listen carefully. You must both depart from Amsterdam on the next available flight. Come to me in Australia. Do not attempt to see Paul before you leave - or he also will be placed in grave danger. The three of you are still under surveillance!’

‘No, Wakonda you are wrong!’ mentally protested Rebecca.

But he once again answered her question before it could be uttered. ‘The entity known in his present earthly sojourn as Donald Ormsby is not at fault. Those who are even now, plotting your end are planning to kill him also!

Beware Rebecca... Beware...!’

Wakonda’s voice faded. The contact breaking as Rebecca’s questioning mind regained control. Heavy clouds covered the moon. The resounding Aum ceased as suddenly as it had began. The candles mysteriously gave a final flicker and died.

Rebecca sat in total blackness.

She felt bewildered and exhausted. Her now awakened conscious mind nagged at her to dismiss the experience as a weird dream.

‘Beware Rebecca... Beware...!’ Wakonda’s echoing warning reverberated through her cold body.


‘Rebecca wake up. I’ve brought you in a nice cup of tea. It’s past nine thirty,’ said Monica in her best morning cheery voice. ‘I’ll leave it here for you on the bedside cabinet.’

‘No Monica, don’t go,’ replied Rebecca dreamily. ‘Wait till I sit up and can open my eyes. There’s something important I need to say to you.’

Monica sat gingerly on the edge of the bed, her soft warm face displayed concern at her friend’s sudden seriousness.

‘What is it Rebecca. Are you all right?’

Rebecca replied in a cautious whisper. ‘We have to get out of Amsterdam. Wakonda contacted me psychically during the night. We must go to him - to Australia. It’s imperative that we book on the next available flight.’ Rebecca spoke in a bleak but urgent voice.

Monica’s eyes lit up like two trusting beacons. Hardly able to conceal her excitement. ‘How wonderful. Everything is just working out perfect. I couldn’t wait to tell you. A bank cheque of ten thousand United States dollars arrived special delivery for me yesterday. Completely anonymous. I couldn’t believe it.’

‘That’s wonderful,’ exclaimed Rebecca portraying surprise.

‘I rang the bank and they said it was genuine. It’s a miracle. I bet it’s from an estate of a long lost relative...... Oh Rebecca, I’m so happy. Can we start packing now?’

‘Yes... I think that would be a good idea. Once I am dressed I’ll make the necessary flight arrangements.’

Rebecca decided not to replace Monica’s happiness with fear by telling her what had transpired. The surveillance, the assault, the ten thousand dollars and Wakonda’s grave warning. ‘No,’ she thought mindfully, ‘the less she knew, the safer she will be - should she be questioned...!’

‘You’re happy aren’t you Rebecca? Oh please tell me you’re happy. Your Paul will come to you. I know he will!’ Monica affectionately clutched at Rebecca’s hands.

Rebecca made a valiant effort to smile. ‘I’ll relax once we’re on the plane. You know how I fret. Now don’t worry about me. I’ll get up now. We have much to attend to.’ She felt a shudder run up her spine as if a rat was pattering over her grave, and added ‘and there is precious little time left!’

Rebecca dressed quickly. Her mind raced to formulate the right plan of action. ‘First the flight bookings: The phones are tapped and the apartment is bugged. Yet if I go to the airline office personally, I will be followed. I’ll have to take my chances - lose whoever may be following.’

She peered out the window. The parked cars, the impatient traffic, the dark windows in the buildings opposite. All seemed normal enough. But for Rebecca the normality of the morning street scene, served only to heighten the haunting inner fear she was experiencing. She noticed her fingers trembling. Her mind was plagued with doubts as to her own sanity. After all, she reasoned, her reactions were largely based on the visions she’d experienced. Perhaps the surveillance was routine. Perhaps they, who ever they are, might want her to leave the country and exit from Paul’s life.’

‘Monica, I’m leaving now. I’ll be back in about an hour and a half. Keep the door locked behind me and do take care.’

Rebecca stepped out onto the footpath.

Without daring to look to either side, she walked briskly in the opposite direction from that which she intended to go. She felt the tension restricting her breathing to short unregulated gasps. She paced warily to the end of her street and turned right. A taxi sped by. She knew that hailing taxis on the streets in Amsterdam had long been frowned upon by the authorities.

‘I must avoid suspicion,’ she murmured grimly.

Now quite out of breath, she stopped at a newspaper and magazine stand and fumbled in her handbag to find the change to buy the morning paper. Her hands shook as she picked up the Dutch language paper and noticed the sub-headlines at the base of the front page.

Drugs, Murder Suicide!
Body found dumped in Canal

The naked body of an attractive 17 year old girl was late yesterday fished out of Keizersgracht. A Peace Keepers’ spokesperson said the girl had been brutally bashed and tortured before being murdered and her body dumped in the canal. Her fiancée was taken into custody for questioning and later charged with the murder. Late last night he was found hanged in his cell leaving behind a note confessing to the murder. The spokesperson added that both victim and suspect were under the influence of drugs. Names have been suppressed.

Rebecca’s mind was in a state of turmoil somewhere between grief and hatred. She shuddered. ‘And the stupid public believe it. God I hope poor Monica is not next in line....’ She felt intense anger - and with her anger came a new found strength and determination. She managed a deep breath and trudged on.

Without warning, she half turned and glanced over her shoulder. A largish man in a fawn coat stopped dead in his tracks 15 metres behind her. He pretended unconvincingly to look to the other side of the busy street, as if seeking out an address.

Rebecca moved instinctively. She spun round with defiance and stamped directly towards him. She felt her heart hammering relentlessly against her chest wall. The blood in her temples pulsed with clotted agony. And for a few emancipated seconds she felt back in control - no longer the defenseless prey.

But her feelings of mastery would be short lived!

She neared the man.

His narrow cold eyes stared intimidatingly out at her from their crows web sockets. He jerked suddenly. With his right hand he reached inside his coat.

Rebecca’s heart stopped. Her mind flashed, ‘No. Surely he’s not going to gun me down in the gutter!’

His unshaven face cracked a hard and humorless smirk, then he sadistically yanked out a creased packet from his inside pocket.

God, he just wanted a bloody cigarette!

She bravely pushed past at an un-godly close range. Her tormented eyes momentarily locked into his. And his icy stare starkly reminded her of the possessed evil monsters in the Austrian cabin. He gave a sly grimace before hard heartedly looking away to light his cigarette in his cupped hands.

There was no sigh of relief. Only pure and natural panic. Rebecca had no alternative but to choose flight rather than to fight. And she sprinted like the flighty odds on favorite at a spring race carnival. She didn’t dare look around. She ducked and weaved and elbowed her way through the pedestrian traffic.

Another taxi. This time slower.

In desperation she hurled herself in front of its path. The driver screeched the brakes - as did the following three cars. She slapped the bonnet, her face pleading tenaciously at the driver. She scrambled around to the driver’s side of the car.

‘Please, I beg you - I’m in danger!’ she cried as he opened the window a few centimeters.

She half expected that he might yell or swear at her - as loud as the driver leaning out of the next car was now shouting. After all, Amsterdam’s taxi drivers had earned a deserved reputation for their indelicate gruffness. Instead, he showed no expression of concern or excitement. He merely said, ‘Huh you can get your arse in the car lady!’

And even before Rebecca slammed the rear door, his foot hit hard the accelerator, lurching her backwards and gangly across the seat. Only then, she could see in the rear vision mirror, his face cracking into a satisfied smirk.

She clambered up and whirled around to glance through the rear window.

Her bulky pursuer in the fawn coat had been taken by surprise. He ran across to a BMW double ranked on the opposite side of the street, waving wildly to his driver to turn the vehicle to give chase. With a burning screech of tyers the BMW managed, with the help of the footpath and a side swiped panel of a parked delivery van, a three point turn through the flow of the braking and honking traffic .

Rebecca’s white skin prickled.

‘Huh! Do you want me to dump the pricks for you?’ asked the taxi driver in crude but friendly nasally English.

‘Oh, please do. I’ll pay double the fare for the extra service,’ she replied, grasping the offer.

‘No need lady. All in a day’s work. I’ve no love for those bastard gangsters posing as security men either. Huh! Now just hold on to your cute little arse.’

And of course Rebecca did hold on. The taxi driver knew his job well. He twisted, turned and weaved his car through the narrow streets, down side lanes and over at least a dozen canal bridges. Rebecca’s pursuers had little chance to keep up with the expertise of the taxi driver.

‘I know every crack and corner of these roads,’ he yelled. ‘They haven’t got the guts to keep up with me! You know, my grand father fought against the Nazi occupation as a resistance fighter - I think this battle ahead of us is going to be even bloodier. Many of us are getting ready to fight back! Civil war - that’s where it is all heading! ’

‘I can’t see them following us - I think we’ve lost them,’ said Rebecca, noting - but not encouraging his comments with a reply. ‘Thank you for helping me.’

‘Any time lady. A taste of danger keeps the wits sharpened. Where would you like to go?’

Rebecca directed the smug ‘typically all knowing’ taxi driver to the Australian Qantas airline office.

‘Could you wait for me?’ she asked as they pulled up outside of the flight office. ‘I’ll pay you now for the cab fare and an hour waiting time in advance. You see,’ she continued, ‘my intention is to write an important letter and I’m counting on you to deliver it to the Hotel Amstel for me. I cannot go in person as the Peace Keepers will be watching the hotel.’

‘As I said lady, all in a days work,’ replied the driver obligingly. ‘And huh, don’t worry - your letter will be delivered, no matter what - I promise you.’

Rebecca nodded gratefully.

‘There you are madam, the flight numbers are clearly shown on the tickets. You depart for London Heathrow at 7.15 PM and connect with the Qantas flight at nine ten this evening for Sydney Australia. I hope you have a pleasant flight.’

‘Yes, thank you. I’m sure I will.’ She clutched the two tickets in her hand. A feeling of relief and false security befell her as if being in the Qantas office afforded her the protection of a neutral embassy and the tickets were her diplomatic passport.

And now to write the letter to Paul...


‘Herr Ravenscroft, I am sorry to disturb you at this early hour. I am Hans Van der Hyde, head of Amsterdam’s security wing of the Peace Keepers Force. Here’s my I.D. May we come in?’

Paul gazed bleary eyed at the tattered card of the ugly large man with his two companions, as they heaved their way into his room.

‘What time is it? What do you want?’

‘The time is exactly 8.40,’ replied Hans lifting his clenched fist to view his watch. ‘And to answer your second question - I’ve been ordered to take you forthwith to the Amsterdam Airport where I am to escort you to a private jet which even at this moment, is waiting on the tarmac for take off.’

‘How dare you come barging in like this,’ countered Paul, now fully awake and with chest expanded. ‘Don’t you know who I am? Who ordered you?’

Hans knew indeed who Paul was. But the sordid glare in his eyes displayed only an unquenchable lust for power. A lust that was now fed by the privilege of barking orders in front of his underlings, to the wealthy Paul Ravenscroft.

‘I believe it’s an emergency Herr Ravenscroft. Your father gave me explicit instructions. Please get dressed. You have only 10 minutes to pack.’

Paul’s brow furrowed. ‘I intend ringing my aid Don Ormsby first. I want this verified. This is an outrage... It’s absolutely preposterous.’

Hans Van der Hyde was insistent. ‘There is no time, I am afraid. Please do not be difficult Herr Ravenscroft - Orders are orders. I’m only doing my job!’

‘And what if I simply refuse to go?’

‘My orders are to put you on the plane and that is exactly what I intend to do - with or without your cooperation, that is for certain,’ said Hans, his eyes bulging barbarically. ‘But I would hope there will be no need for such unpleasantness - we are after all, on the same side!’

He stepped a foreboding half step closer to Paul and squinted cunningly. ‘Didn’t Don Ormsby inform you that you had to return to Austria immediately?’

‘Yes he did - but I told him it wasn’t convenient. He was to arrange an extra couple of days......’

Hans tossed his head to one side. ‘Herr Ravenscroft, when you arrive in Austria, no doubt you will take the matter up with your father. That is of no concern to me. But right now we are wasting time.’ He pulled a loaded syringe menacingly from his pocket. ‘We will wait here while you dress.’ He gaped at his watch. ‘You have now only 6 minutes. . . ’


Rebecca felt nauseous by the time she’d climbed the stairs and unlocked the door of her apartment. Her hands still clutched the flight tickets for dear life - and her fractured mind still reeled with self doubts and indecision.

Monica’s excited voice greeted her from the bedroom. ‘Hi Rebecca. I’m nearly finished packing - when are we leaving?’

She joined Monica in her room before replying and spoke in a drained whisper. ‘We’re booked on the 7.15 flight this evening, flying via London to Sydney Australia.’ She sat down on the bed to collect her thoughts. ‘Now I suppose the next thing I should do, is to sought through what I need to take with me.’

Monica noticed Rebecca’s terrible white complexion. ‘I’ll first make you a cup of coffee and then I’ll help you pack. I need to do something to pass the time. I’m so excited about our trip to Australia, my nerves are all on edge. I cant wait!’

Rebecca was anxious and deathly nervous too - but for far more malignant reasons. In her mind she’d all but concluded, that if the Peace Keepers had intended to arrest her, they would have done so by now.
Yet her soul cry disagreed.

Wishful thinking perhaps? Maybe even faith...? she asked herself, but then she cringed. No definitely not faith! Faith needs a subject - a concept to have faith or believe in! Faith is a belief postponed into the illusory future - born entirely in the ego mind to satisfy a desire for a specific result. The ‘knowing’ or wisdom of the awakened is always in the ever present, and springs directly from the heart. The enlightened have no need for faith - they simply know!

Rebecca tried valiantly to force her mind to accept that her higher self already knew the outcome of the on going drama - that she should remain relaxed and unmoved as merely the witness or observer. But oh what an adversary to the strong will, an equally powerful mind can be!

‘Are you all right Rebecca? I’m beginning to worry about you,’ asked Monica in her most gentlest voice.

Rebecca shut her eyes for a few seconds, took a deep breath and sighed. ‘I’ll be all right. I was daydreaming.’ she said, then immediately changed the subject. ‘Do you intend contacting your parents before we leave?’

‘No, I’m taking the cowards way out. I’d prefer to send them a letter from Australia, once we’ve settled. They fretted when I left them in Dordrecht to come to Amsterdam by myself. They will simply panic if they hear I’m leaving Holland.’ The concern in her eyes for Rebecca deepened. ‘And how about you - did you go and see Paul?’

‘No Monica,’ she responded quietly, ‘I wrote a letter and had it delivered to his hotel. I don’t want to talk about it at this point in time.’

‘I understand.’ Monica hugged Rebecca as she spoke.

But that’s the trouble dear sweet Monica, she thought sadly, you don’t understand at all. Even I don’t understand!

‘Everything is going to work out, you’ll see.’

Oh I hope so.... I pray you are right.

The cuckoo clock cuckooed twice.

Rebecca looked up from her lounge chair apprehensively. Wakonda’s dire warning echoed through her mind - and time was dragging so excruciatingly slow. The acute anxiety and nerves she felt inside, had reduced her intestines to a raging sloppy mess of twisted pasta.

‘If we can only make it to the plane,’ she gasped to herself.

‘Did you say something Rebecca?’ asked Monica glancing up from her magazine.

Rebecca jumped to her feet, startling Monica by her impulsive action.

‘I said, I can’t stay in this damn apartment another second!’

Monica peered at the clock. ‘But it’s only two o’clock.’

Rebecca sounded energized. ‘There’s no point in just sitting here waiting. Let’s go to the airport - book our luggage in - and kill some hours exploring the duty free shops. After that we can pass the time at the airport restaurant.’ She shrugged. ‘Anything must be better than sitting here on our bottoms and twiddling our thumbs!’

‘Well what are we waiting for?’ said Monica, excited by the suggestion.

‘Good. That’s settled then. I’ll post the cheque for the extra rent at the airport. We’ll leave the keys inside. The janitor will have a pass key. Now let’s see - one final check.’

‘Passports and tickets?’ asked Monica with a cheeky gleam in her eye.

‘No way would I forget them! They’re right here in my handbag.’

‘Then that just leaves our credit cards, suitcases and ourselves.’

‘All accounted for.’ Rebecca even managed a relieved smile as she spoke.

She wanted to say, ‘Well let’s be on our way....’ She wanted to say, ‘you can wait just inside the door downstairs with the suit cases while I sprint to the taxi ramp for a taxi...’ She wanted to say...’

None of the words were uttered.

Like a sudden clap of thunder a hammering knock on the door sent Rebecca’s heart flopping to her feet with a squelch.

Her complexion went white with quaking fear.

The thundering was repeated.

‘Open the door! This is the Peace Keepers. We know you are in there...huh - that’s for certain!’



Copyright 2004 – 2006 © Charles Goodwin. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, copied or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, storage in a retrieval system or otherwise, without the prior express written permission of Charles Goodwin.

All characters - other than obvious historical figures - in this book 666 The Cauldron are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Prospective publishers with expressions of interest are invited to contact Charles Goodwin at

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