Los Angeles, California

August 3rd, 2009


The beige Mercedes glided to the curb and came to a smooth stop. A new rental car followed suit and pulled in snugly behind it. Both driver’s doors opened simultaneously and the two occupants made their way to the curb. The woman chatted with the man while pointing at the house and yard as they ascended the brick stairs that led to the porch.
She wore a soft, yellow Chanel business suit and carried a stylish leather attaché case. Her thick blond hair was pulled back and accessorized neatly with a bow, clearly exposing her high cheek bones. Her athletic build and confident approach had been crafted from many years of running during and after college. In addition to her stunning appearance, her demeanor was very professional. Ann Clark had been a realtor for ten years; for her, this was just another day of showing homes to well qualified, potential clients. As they neared the Colonial-style home, she paused to point out the features of the beautifully manicured front lawn. Speaking in regulated clarity, she occasionally eyed the man standing beside her, struggling to gauge his initial reaction to this million-dollar home. Unable to discern his body language, she turned and continued her spiel.
They climbed the remaining brick steps and approached the freshly painted double doors. She searched her coat pocket for her cell phone while carrying on the selling process; never missing a beat. She held down a key on her phone and beamed a code at the lock box. The electro-mechanical device instantly sprang open, revealed the house key, and they were inside the house a few seconds later.
Jake Randall appreciated her professionalism and could sense her integrity. From the moment they met, he mentally constructed a character profile on Ann Clark. To him, the personality of each person was like a jigsaw puzzle, and Ann's was falling into place very quickly. She was confident and experienced. Jake liked that.
This was the first home he had looked at since arriving in Los Angeles just a few days ago. Ann had sent him several listing sheets and floor plans prior to their meeting today. He followed her footsteps, showed interest when she spoke, and was very attentive during the highlights of her presentation. Her skillful sales ability gingerly mixed personal charm with a hint of strategic selling. He was being drawn, almost seductively, to a purchasing decision.
Ann started in the marble entry way, led him through the living room, past the formal dining area, and stopped in the kitchen. Since the house was constructed in the early sixties, most rooms were large, but the paneling and carpets were dark. They strolled into the brightly lit kitchen that had been newly remodeled which included a greenhouse window over the stainless steel sink and an island in the center. The floor was the same green marble used in the entry. The white cabinetry was obviously new, as were the granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances. Adjacent to the kitchen was a roomy breakfast nook and, beyond that, a large family room. Jake leaned against the island and absently ran his finger nails along the seemingly cold granite while he thought.
“I’m looking for approximately 3,500 square feet,” he said, without looking directly at her.
“Uhmmmm,” Ann paused as she searched the listing for more details.
“According to the seller, this home has 3600 square feet, but in the listing....it shows 3620.” Ann rustled through several more papers and then turned to Jake.
“I'll check with the seller to find out which is correct.” She scratched a few notes down as she walked to the other end of the kitchen. She looked up and flashed him a quick smile. As always, Ann assured her clients that things were being handled.
Jake smiled, because the she was obviously working so hard to convince him this was the right home for him. “Yep,” he answered, “it's just the right size.” He liked what he had seen thus far, and it matched his perceptions; Ann had sent him in advance the builders blue prints. “Where is the den,” he asked, knowing she was more than eager to show him.
Ann led the way. After passing through the dining room and living room, she once again crossed the entryway and stood before freshly painted French doors. She mischievously turned about and smiled as she firmly gripped a pair of brass door knobs from behind. Keeping her eyes steady with his, she slowly stepped toward him, pulling both doors open ceremoniously.
Turning on her heel, she entered the darkened den and approached the window. Since the house was vacant, the only available lighting was the hazy L.A. sunshine. While opening the blinds, she closely watched his reaction to the room, knowing this was the make or break of the sale.
“I understand you had an office in your last home? Are you going to need one in this house as well?” She walked around the room, and with an outstretched hand to give emphasis to her next statement, turned abruptly towards him. “This IS a great home office - wonderful view, spacious,” she then pointed to the corners of the room, “and plenty of outlets for office equipment.”
Jake smiled as he turned to her. “Yes, I agree.”
“Well, when we first spoke on the phone, it seemed that you were interested in location, you know, in relation to the airport and the business district.” Ann's intuition paid off. She knew this room was an important component to the ultimate sale. Experience taught her that for every home buyer, there usually is one. This was a “people” business - people buy from people they like. She watched him circle the room, stopping occasionally to touch the grass cloth wallpaper. He went to the window and gazed outside for several minutes without comment.
Finally he turned and faced her. “Let's see the second floor.”
In unison, they exited the den and proceeded up the staircase to the broad landing that lead to the master bedroom.

The hidden closet was devoid of light. The only audible sound resonated from the second story wooden beams that moaned under their weight as they walked about. A large portion of the closet wall began to dimly pulsate in the darkness. Whiffs of water vapor leached from the wall and minute bubbles dimpled its surface. As the pulsations grew in intensity, an ominous circle began to form which swirled around in unnatural colors. The texture of the wall gradually transformed from a solid structure to a gelatinous state. As the surface contorted and sparked with electricity, a tarnished metal globe emerged from the drywall.
The sound of micro gears echoed in the closet as a tiny mechanical hatch swung open on the globe’s surface. From its innards, five spider-shaped legs flowed outward and made contact with the adjacent wall. The globe pulled itself from the pliable surface, and once free, it carefully maneuvered along the ceiling and towards the opposing wall. When it reached its destination, a metallic shutter swirled opened and a blue beam projected onto the interior closet doors. At the same time, one side of the globe parted and several antennas emerged from its mechanical belly.
The five spider legs simultaneously spun at great speed and bored into the closet ceiling, thereby pulling the globe tightly against its surface. Low level Alpha waves pulsed from the antenna towards the master bedroom above and targeted the occipital lobe of the brain. At the same time, a sensor reached out and sampled the chemical and material composition of the adjoining area. Once the transmissions commenced, the tarnished metal object transformed into the shape of an ordinary wooden beam in an effort to disguise itself.

Ann felt a rush of relief. She was inching closer to the sale. After visiting the four bedrooms on the second floor, they ended the tour in the entry way. She wanted a commitment from him, but wasn't sure of her approach, because his style seemed overly confident and secretive. He had a smile on his face that reminded her of a cat that just ate a mouse. It bugged her.
“From the smile on your face, I guess you have something intriguing on your mind.” Ann flashed him a huge smile, hoping it would help cinch the sale.
“Here’s the deal...I like the house.” Jake glanced around the room. “The den fits my needs as well. I'm just concerned about the age of the home. Its forty-odd years old and I know it needs work. I also know about the housing glut, and by the looks of the MLS listing, this house has been on the market for thirteen months. In essence, I think the $997K asking price is too high.”
“I can understand your concerns.” She suddenly felt the deal slipping through her fingers.
“How motivated are the sellers?” he inquired.
“They paid off the mortgage years ago, so they’re not really in any rush to sell. On the other hand, they are retired, and want to unburden their lives with maintaining this place. You know- with the grounds, both front and back, and having to keep an eye on the place. They are living with their son temporarily, so the house is always available to show.”
“I'm a decisive man. I bought my last home before the models were built - from an artist’s rendering and floor plan. On the flight out here, I knew this was the place.” Jake reached into his sports coat and produced an envelope. “Simply put, here is my offer.”
“You know I have to talk with the sellers and...,” She stammered, knowing she had lost control of the situation. She tried to regain her composure, feeling a sense of both shock and delight at the same time. She slowly took the offer from his hand and without looking down, reached in and removed the check. “I will be more than happy to call the seller with any counter offer which is reasonable.”
He reached into his jacket and pulled out his 3G iPhone. Without hesitation, he pressed the indented button and slid the virtual bar to the right. He instinctively touched the green phone icon and promptly held out the phone to her. “Let's see what they say?”
Ann stood still for a moment, surprised by this calculated turn of events, then looked down at her watch. She wasn’t sure if they would be home at this hour. He handed over his phone and then left the room. With the offer and phone in hand, Ann paused briefly to draft a mental presentation to the sellers.
Jake could hear her talking from the living room, and knew when to make his entrance. “How did it go?"
“Fantastic! I mean, they thought the offer was reasonable and want move forward with the sale.” He watched with delight as she attempted to hold back the exhilaration of an instant sale. Ann slowly pulled out a document from her attaché and placed it on the stack of papers she held.
They both smiled at each other for a few, uneasy seconds. The moment almost seemed anti-climatic. He was now a home owner, and her, a small fortune in commission. Her eyes dropped to the paperwork and she quickly filled in the essential information. Briefly, he watched her intense expression and wondered what she was really like- away from work. As he glanced up and over her right shoulder, something caught his eye.
Ann was elated at the instant sale and slightly miffed that she didn’t get to show off her negotiation skills. Stepping forward to shake his hand, she noticed he was now staring into the den. “Is there a problem?” she asked, as her eyes slowly followed his gaze. The marble floor of the entry way ran for ten feet and ended at the double French doors that led into the formal den. Beyond the door, shadows darkened the room, except for the small ray of sunlight that graced the wall. Ann stared at the wall and then quickly looked back at Jake.
He was transfixed by the sight. His eyes raced from the center of the room to the ceiling, then back to the floor. Jake tried to make sense of it. He stood captured by the apparition, analyzing and re-evaluating what had just occurred.
The flash, shimmering waves, and the light, he surmised.
It happened so quickly. He tilted his head lethargically to the left, as if in slow motion, and noticed the inquisitive look on the Realtor’s face.
“Is there something wrong?” she politely asked once again.
He slowly turned back to the den, and this lapse melded back into real time. “Well, I guess not. I thought…I saw something.” He felt his forehead with the tips of his fingers and then glared at the perspiration that clung to his palm.
“A reflection of light,” he whispered to himself.
Her eyes purposefully dropped to the floor saving him from this slightly embarrassing moment. The awkward moment subsided. They quickly exchanged property and headed for the door. Jake reached for the brass handle.
“I believe our work here is complete.....and congratulations on the sale.” Jake said as he opened the door for her. “Thanks for all your help.”
“No. Thank you, Mr. Randall. The pleasure was all mine!” Ann shook his hand, gathered together her paperwork placing it under one arm, and walked out with him to the front porch. The sudden exhilaration of a sale finally sank in, and she could feel the rush of adrenaline pulsate through her body.
“I will complete the necessary paperwork, have Mr. Rice sign his copy, and drop off yours next week. Once the check clears, escrow will only take a few days. Also, I will have termite and roof inspection later this week. I have your number at the hotel if I have any questions. “So, I guess,” she paused, slowing down, “... I will talk with you later? It was nice meeting you Jake and I do appreciate the business.” She briefly paused half-way down the steps and flashed him a smile, then almost skipped back to her car.
Jake watched her wave from the driver's seat, and his eyes followed her as she sped away from the curb. He turned back toward the front door and patted it gently with one hand.
“Welcome home, Jake," he whispered to himself. He turned and walked down the remaining steps, slid into the rental car, and with one last look at his new home, slowly drove away.