Bye.’ ‘Goodbye,’ again with that soft, smooth-as-silk voice. He hung up the phone and wondered what sort of woman was the possessor of that provocative voice. He couldn’t remember being turned on by just a voice on the phone before, but she had come close. He walked back to the spare bedroom in his apartment and resumed his work. At three the next afternoon he was standing in the empty shell that was to become his residence. He looked out the curtainless picture windows to English Bay below and Vancouver Island in the distance. The entrance was just to his left. Anyone approaching the front door would have to come past the big windows. When Ingrid Solberg walked by the windows at a minute after three, he was stunned. She was the most spectacular woman he had ever seen. In the two or three seconds that she was in view, he absorbed all the information he could from what he had seen. She was tall, medium length dark red hair, voluptuously proportioned, and had an almost imperial. Somehow, the Geronimo band on top of the mesa had gotten the word on the reservation contingent and it probably was what was disturbing them recently more than the presence of the hated enemy at the base of the heights.The sun was up and over the foothills before Sam had his first sip of coffee brewed in the cook wagon makeshift oven with the heated rocks. He had to have that first cup of coffee in the morning to start up all his physical and mental systems like oil for some nefarious scientific machine that did things no human could do even if they wanted to in these perilous times.He saw the sun reflecting off a mirror or glass in the distance as an early warning signal of the approaching relief column from the far-away fort.Before the column was in sight, he saw a long line of women and youngsters coming down the steep trail up to the top of the mesa. It was apparently all of the women-folks in Geronimo’s camp and it included all of the surviving female hostages.That surprised Sam.
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