We spoke for almost an hour. After the first twenty minutes or so it actually began feeling almost normal. Eventually we reached the part of the conversation about us. Her request for a new security clearance was being vetted. If she received it, she might be able to visit me. But as a condition for approval, she admitted, she had agreed to notify Homeland Security when she heard from me. Notify, she emphasized, which was little more than an acknowledgment we had spoken. Somehow I didn’t think the government was waiting breathlessly for that notification. She was still working on the Hill, assisting Martha’s appointed successor, although as she pointed out, since the establishment of the military districts her workload had been considerably lighter.

It was a long and difficult conversation. The only thing I had established for certain was that my feelings about Jenny were real and deep. I didn’t see any easy answers, but I wasn’t giving up either. I told her I would call again soon and hung up. That empty feeling I had feared hit me. I was completely disoriented; I was sitting in my hotel room looking around for something, anything, that was mine. “Well, Cher,” I said. “That wasn’t so hot, was it?”

“The temperature is seventy-two degrees, Rollie. Would you like me to turn up the air-conditioning?”

I chuckled. At home she was able to remotely adjust the temperature. Even Cher was discombobulated.

I started reviewing my conversation with Jenny, trying to see if I had missed anything she had tried to tell me. I also felt a little dishonest at not mentioning Laura. Escaping from America was one thing; doing it with an attractive woman put a whole different slant on it. I suspect my real fear was that eventually she would find out about it and begin wondering why I hadn’t mentioned this other woman. Fortunately, Jenny wasn’t a jealous woman, so I did not expect to hear her asking, “Why didn’t you want to escape with me?”

Next time we speak I’ll tell her, I decided, definitely next time.

Laura had finally agreed to stay in Canada for several more days, helping me get organized. My legal status remained unsettled. The Canadian consulate had informed the American State Department that it had received a request for political asylum from an American citizen named Roland Stone, providing the dates for my immigration hearing if the government wanted to contest it.

In response, the American government had filed an array of criminal charges against me. Corbin and Russell had been found safe and sleeping in Van. As a result, I was being charged with assaulting and kidnapping federal agents, drugging federal agents, the theft of a government vehicle, impersonating a federal agent, theft of official government documents, and treason. The government added that it expected to file additional criminal charges in the future. Therefore an official request for extradition had been sent to the Canadian government.

I would not be going home for the holidays. Or, as I ruefully told Marty Shaw, “No noose is good noose.”