28 DATE WITH THE GODSplace would be an ideal hideout for someone avoiding the
law. She might even be a member of the Symbionese
Army, or the long-sought Pa tty Hearst, whose kidnap
ping had dominated the news recently.
.J tried to relax. So what if she were? She was nice, not
bad looking, had a good body, was certainly interesting
enough. And she had left me with a good impression.
She seemed sincere, open, straight-forward, and ex
tremely self-confident. She didn't show the kind of
underlying fear of someone who was being hunted by
the police or Mafia executioners. But the police motor
cycle bothered me. How could anybody manage to get
away with riding around on something so obviously
stolen without getting caught? Someone had to see it in
over 11, 000 miles of travel. This young lady was very
mysterious indeed. And there was something strange
about her deep, penetrating eyes.
I was out of the wa ter, feeling great, when she finally
arrived. I didn't hear any cars, buses or her Harley
Davidson to announce her arrival. We greeted each
other. She seemed light-hearted and cheerful. I asked
how she had gotten here; she said she had walked. She
was wearing a white, one-piece robe-like garment with a
light blue sash around the waist. Again, I was struck by
the unusualness of this girl.
"By the way," I said casually, "you never told me your
name yesterday."
"Call me Rama," she said.
"What an unusual name."
"Thank you. What's yours ?"
"Charles. But my friends call me Chacho. Are you
going to tell me where you came from?"
"Please, let's not start that again."
"Look, I really don't care if you are the queen of Sheba
or Patty Hearst in disguise, but I'd like some answers to
the questions I've been wrestling with for the last 24
hours."