| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Next | Part 6 |
| Table of Contents |

I had hoped to avoid getting into the whole attempted abduction issue and the events that followed it. In addition, given the circumstances, the affair now had an aura of contrivance and convenience about it.

On the other hand, I didn't know what choice I had. I knew I hadn't killed my friends, but the FBI was looking for hard evidence to this effect.

As implausible as the truth sounded, I decided to let 'er rip, so to speak, with several exceptions. First, I wasn't going to mention the Botclofots, and, secondly, I wouldn't say anything about the fact that Rip seemed to know about the deaths of Ken and Pamela Pratt even before the FBI.

Although all kinds of macabre conspiracy scenarios were possible as a way of accounting for Rip's apparent preternatural knowledge, I was certain in my heart Rip had nothing to do with what happened to my friends. In fact, if he had anything to do with their deaths, divulging that link to me seemed to make very little sense.

In retrospect, as strange as it sounded, I believed Rip intimated what he did about Ken and Pam to help build trust between himself and myself as a kind of preparation for whatever lay hidden beyond the curve in the road of my life's present path. Furthermore, for whatever reason, he must have felt the forging of that bond was important, or else I think nothing would have been said.

Having come to these conclusions, I hesitated for a moment, took a deep breath and stepped off the high board. I hoped soft water and a nice clean entry would be waiting for me at the bottom of the plunge.

"After leaving the donut shop," I finally said, "the same thing nearly happened to me that took place with Beth Idaho several weeks ago," I stated. "Someone, I don't have any idea who, tried to abduct me.

"The person was a man who spoke with a Boston accent, but I never saw him. He approached me from behind, stuck something in my back which felt like a gun, and told me to keep moving. He remained behind me throughout almost the entire incident.

"At one point he did give me instructions to turn around slowly, but before I could get a look at my assailant, he blew something into my face. I immediately became dizzy and was having difficulty breathing.

"Shortly after that, I lost my balance and fell down. I heard a car pull up; shouting; someone running, and I heard the car lay rubber as it sped away.

"Someone knelt down next to me. This person helped me get up and, then, assisted me into a building on the street.

"Some time later, I'm not exactly sure how long it was, I awoke in a room. A man by the name of Rip was sitting in the room, apparently waiting for me to revive.

"This man, Rip, arranged a glass of fruit juice, as well as some soup and coffee, for me. In addition, he talked with me for several hours and, then, when I was fully recovered, he bid me adieu some where around 7:30 a.m.."

"Do you have an address for this man, Dr. Phelps?" Agent Bradley inquired.

"Assuming my brain and eyes were functioning properly at the time of my departure, the address is 99 St. Jude," I stated. "I hope, once you speak with him, my name will be deleted from all of your lists except the one for Christmas cards."

Agent Bradley smiled and said: "I'm surprised you would even want a Christmas card from us. You must not get much mail.

"In any event, we will check out your story and see where we stand after that phase of our investigation. Are you planning any trips in the next few days?"

"As a matter of fact," I remarked, "I'm booked on a one o'clock plane to Chicago. I'm attending a symposium for three or four days. I should be returning to the Boston area on Saturday or Sunday."

"Do you know where you will be staying?" Agent Bradley asked.

"The Balmer House," I replied. "The symposium is taking place there."

Agent Bradley rose in preparation for leaving. He looked over at Agent Williams: "Do you have any further questions you would like to ask Ed?"

As he got up from his chair, Agent Williams shook his head in a negative fashion. He headed for the door.

"Thank you very much, Dr. Phelps, for your co-operation," Agent Bradley offered. He followed Agent Williams down the hallway.

As Agent Bradley was walking out the door, a thought occurred to me. "I don't know if it matters at all, but the person who tried to abduct me appeared to know me.

"The second or third time he spoke, he referred to me as 'Professor'. It could have been a general form of address, the way 'governor' or 'captain' is used in some geographical locations, but I don't think so.

"On the other hand, there was nothing familiar about the voice. I suspect the person, somehow, may know me, but I don't believe I know the person."

"Thank you," responded Agent Bradley. "We may want to follow up on that with you if we come up empty on some of our other leads."

Agent Bradley nodded his head in a final good-bye and walked down the hall toward Agent Williams and the elevator. I closed the door to the apartment.

Going to the kitchen, I checked both the time and the coffee. I heard the alarm go off in the bedroom, roughly confirming the 9:42 on the kitchen clock.

I turned the coffee machine off, poured myself a cup, added some sugar and headed for the bathroom. I hadn't left myself a whole lot of time to shave, shower, dress and arrive at the airport in time for my flight.

Fortunately, I had the good sense to pack before going to bed earlier in the morning. Barring unforseen contingencies, I should be able to get to the airport with ten or fifteen minutes to spare.

Thinking of Ken and Pam, I briefly entertained the possibility of not going to Chicago. However, this idea was quickly rejected.

My experience with the deaths of both of my parents and my sister had taught me two things. First, only the passage of time would help heal the pain I felt and allow me the opportunity to deal with the grief in my own way. Secondly, keeping busy was a coping mechanism that seemed to assist me to deal with the situation in manageable doses by forcing me to concentrate, at least for a time, on something beside thoughts of my friends.

Burial arrangements probably were underway somewhere in Washington, but I tended to shy away from such things. I suppose God would get even with me by forcing me to attend my own funeral.

I didn't think that Ken and Pam would hold my not going against me. I would love them in death, as I loved them in life, but my love wouldn't manifest itself by showing up when they were lowered into the ground.

In time, I would visit their grave sites and say good-bye in person. In time, I would look in on their children and say hello ... but not now .

Upon arrival in Chicago, I took one of the shuttle buses making the rounds of different hotels, including the Balmer House. After getting off the bus at my destination, I confirmed my reservation, picked up my key card and proceeded to the assigned room on the twenty-first floor.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Next | Part 6 |
| Table of Contents |