706 White Rose Lane

The old widow who lived at 706 White Rose Lane was barely five feet tall. As a former high school history teacher, she lived off what was left of her meager savings.

One night after falling asleep in her easy chair, which she was prone to do, a flashlight in the window woke her abruptly. The light circled the perimeter of the house accompanied by unintelligible whispers.

A few seconds later there was a knock at the door. It was a bold knock delivered with a heavy fist. She pulled herself out of the chair using her cane, but the process took time, and the knocking became more impatient.

“Open up, Mrs. Levi. Federal agents.” The voice was young and male, loud but matter of fact. Just doing their rounds.

“One moment, please.” She shuffled into her slippers, hobbled to the door, and unlatched a series of locks. When she finally opened the door, she was greeted by two masked agents. The letters painted on their vests didn’t matter. She knew why they were here.

“Are you Sandra Levi?” The agent asked while checking his device. No badges, no warrant, just the guns strapped to their hips.

“That’s me.” Her smile was reflexive, practiced.

“Mind if we have a look around?” A rhetorical question.

“Come right in.” She stepped aside gesturing a welcome with her stiff arthritic hand.

The agents scanned the room. One of them reached into a bowl on the console by the door and jingled a set of keys. “You drive, Mrs. Levi?”

“Oh heavens, no! I haven’t driven in years. I’m homebound.” She gestured to her cane.

“What’s with all the keys?”

“Oh, I don’t even remember. One is for the house of course and one for the Chevy in the garage, but that old thing is junk. The others, well. An old woman like me just collects things over the years.”

By now the other agent had targeted the bookshelf. He called his partner over to help him inspect the books.

“All on the approved list?”

“Of course!”

Sandra swapped the covers of her banned favorites long ago.

It made no difference that the agent thumbed through the pages. That was all for show. Most of them couldn’t read. What really upset her was the way he dropped them so carelessly on the floor.

“Would you boys like some coffee?”

‘Coffee’ was what they called the yellow caffeinated soda beverage that kept soldiers awake. Coffee drinkers eventually adapted to its flavor. Coffee hadn’t been available in the states since the trade war.

“Yes ‘Mam. Thank you, kindly.”

The agents continued their inspection of the other rooms while Sandra toiled in the kitchen.

She emerged with a tray of ‘coffee’ and cornmeal cakes.

The thirsty agents drained their coffee mugs.

“We appreciate your cooperation, Mrs. Levi. My partner will take the kitchen and if you just show me to the bathroom, we can get out of your hair.”

On the sink was a cup that held two toothbrushes. One appeared to be for the old woman, but the other was smaller and had one of those popular cartoon dogs on the handle.

Sandra knew she was in trouble. “It belongs to my young Nephew. He visits sometimes.”

The agent unholstered his gun and pointed it at her, then called for his partner to get the keys.

But his hands began to tremble and loosen his grip.

He called his partner again. “Branson, the keys!”

Branson lay unconscious on the floor in the hall. Sandra hushed the confused agent, carefully disarmed him, then pulled the mask off his face.

“Andrew Edward! You should be ashamed. I taught your daddy. Now why on earth would you get mixed up in all this?”

“What did you do to me?”

“Relax, I didn’t poison you. It’s just a little roofie so you can’t hurt my friends.

A little boy emerged from a secret room behind the bookshelf. He was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Oh, Hector.” Sandra scolded him gently. “What did I tell you about coming upstairs?”

“Wait for the signal.” Then he noticed the men passed out on the floor and looked nervously at Mrs. Levi.

“Don’t worry, Hector. They’re only sleeping. Will you go get your brothers to help me carry these two? We are going to teach them a lesson.”