From the looks of her private office, Marsha must be
very important. She has a glass-topped desk in front of
a bay window, flanked by shelves full of Marsha's
broadcasting awards. Several overstuffed chairs and an
antique coffee table fill the space before her desk.
Marsha herself is even more formally attired than her
office. She is obviously Scandinavian with trim blonde
hair and high cheeks. Her body is as carefully
sculptured as her face, suggesting some kind of regular
athletic activity. She fills her suit very well. She
appears glad to see Jim again and offers us a drink as
we sit together. Jim introduces us. "Marsha, this is
Ken, the man I told you about."
"Hello, Marsha. I'm pleased to meet you." I shake her
hand.
"Hi, Ken. And Jim, you say this man should be dead?"
says Marsha, with a suspicious grin as she sips her
coffee.
"Just let me put this video in your VCR and I think you
will be very impressed."
Marsha watches as the cast falls from my arm. "Wow!
That's really impressive. Either you have some great
technology or this guy is real."
"Listen, Marsha, Ken thinks he can go to Israel and make
peace. I know it sounds impossible, but this guy does
the impossible. I believe him and I think he can make
you believe as well. Before we show you any more, we
need you to promise that nothing will leak out before we
all arrive in Israel."
"We all?" asks Marsha, rather surprised. "I thought you
would want to do a story here."
"Yes, Marsha, we are going to Israel," Says Jim. "I
couldn't tell you about that before gaining your
confidentiality. We need you."
"Well," says Marsha, "I'm willing to play along if you
really think there's a story."
"Marsha," says Jim, "This has the potential of being the
story of your life. Trust me."
Marsha nods, skeptically.
Jim continues, "Do you know an executive who will
authorize the trip without raising local suspicions?"
"That would be Mr. Sands."
"If you can invite him into your office, I think Ken can
convince him to cooperate. Do we have a deal?"
"Why not? It sounds exciting," says Marsha, obviously
still skeptical. "Even if this man is a fraud, it might
make a newsworthy story."
Soon Mr. Sands is in the room. He is over six feet tall
and slightly balding. His moustache is perfectly trimmed
and complements his bold chin. He speaks with authority
and firmly shakes our hands. He understands that we want
to take Miss Clark and her camera crew to Israel on a
secret mission. He agrees to keep everything secret on
one condition, that we are able to convince him. Marsha
rolls her eyes to indicate to Mr. Sands that we are on
our own. Jim handles the entire negotiation.
"Mr. Sands. I appreciate that you are a busy man. You
don't have time to waste and neither do we. We are very
serious about our proposal. This is not a joke. I am so
confident in the powers of this man that I want you to
ask him to perform a miracle that will convince you to
cooperate. Pick anything. Just don't ask him to cause
harm, to control the behavior of another human, or to
create wealth. A simple parlor trick should suffice."
Mr. Sands ponders the request for a minute. He is
offended that Jim would expect him to be conned by a
magician's trick. "Okay, you people. If this is a hoax I
will expose you to the ends of the earth. You, Doctor
Teasdale, your credibility as a reporter of amazing
healings will be over. I want a cameraman who can go
with you to come in now and video the entire event.
Marsha, how about Gary Clayton?" In a few minutes a
little fat man enters and sets up his camera. Once the
camera is rolling, Mr. Sands makes his request. "Ken, I
want you to float up to that light fixture and break it
with your bare hands. Then I want you to return to the
floor and stand here next to me while the pieces of
broken glass float back up to the ceiling, reform, and
make light again."
Jim nods assuringly and I think about floating. As I
slowly rise in the air, Mr. Sands runs around me to
check for wires. The camera records everything as I
approach the light fixture. I grasp it in my hands and
squeeze gently. It explodes and falls to the floor in a
thousand sharp pieces. The room is lit from outside,
through the bay window. I return to the floor and step
over next to Mr. Sands. I notice a small cut on my left
palm and think it better. Mr. Sands sees my palm heal
itself. I talk to the broken glass and it hears me. It
returns to the ceiling, assumes its former shape and
illuminates the room again. Clayton, the cameraman, is
too stunned to turn off the camera. Everyone stands
quietly for a few moments until Jim nudges Clayton to
stop recording. After recovering from shock, Mr. Sands
asks Marsha to invite David Brown, her best producer,
into the room and the video tape is played for him.
David describes the same scene on tape that the others
saw minutes before. Mr. Sands tells him he is going to
Israel with us. We have our television crew. Everyone
agrees to secrecy. Jim and I are supplied with press
passes and we are now part of a news team on its way to
Israel to cover a war. Somehow, my passport and visa
applications are approved.
Chapter VIII
