Free The Greatest Spiritual Secret of the Century by Thom Hartmann Page A

when you undertook your profession?”
    Rich smiled. “I get it now. Paul told you about me being a lawyer…”
    â€œNo, you did. Are you here to sell your soul? If so, I’ll have to call somebody else, as I work on, as they say, the good side of the street.”
    Rich turned to Paul and pointed a thumb at Noah. “He’s great, you know that? Really great.”
    â€œYeah, great,” Paul said, wondering how Rich would have reacted to the coyote, wondering what he’d say if Paul even tried to tell him about the events of the past hours…or minutes, depending on which world you were referring to.
    â€œListen,” Rich said, “I’m on my way out with Cheryl,and then I’ve gotta head back to the firm. But I called Bob Harrell, he’s my boss, and he said that as a matter of fact they could use a good writer, if you’re willing to work free-lance. Probably twenty or thirty hours a week, and they’ll only pay forty dollars an hour, but it’s a start.”
    Elation and relief filled Paul. “Forty dollars an hour! That’s more than what I was making at the Tribune!”
    â€œYeah, well, now you know where the money is,” Rich said, his tone implying that he’d just thrown a bone to a mongrel. He reached into his back pocket, pulled out a card, turned and handed it to Noah, saying, “If you ever need a good law firm, we do everything.”
    Noah took the card with his right hand, holding it with the pipe, and looked it over. With his left hand, he reached into the pocket of his white shirt and pulled out a business card, which he handed to Rich. “And if you ever decide you want to forsake evil for good, give me a call.”
    Rich gave him a smug expression as he took the card, which, as he touched it, burst into a flash of blue flame. “Hey!” he yelled, jerking his hand back and sprinkling a bit of black ash.
    â€œApparently you’re not pure enough to touch my card,” Noah said in a dry tone.
    â€œThat’s not funny! You could have burned me!”
    Noah nodded. “And then you’d sue me?”
    Rich’s eyes narrowed. “Damn right.”
    â€œAmericans pray to their doctors, ‘Save my life, good sir.’ The new high priests of life. But they live in fear of their lawyers. ‘Please don’t destroy me, sir, or take my home.’ You are one of the modern-day demons.”
    â€œCareful,” Rich said. “The law is an honorable profession.”
    â€œHave you ever helped the poor?” Noah said. His tone of voice trembled with a very Noah-like righteousness that caused Paul to hold his breath.
    â€œNo,” Rich sneered. “They want help, they can go to law school like I did.”
    â€œGot it all figured out, don’t you?” Noah said.
    â€œAre you trying to say something?”
    â€œSir,” Noah said, his voice a whisper, “are you interested in riches and power?”
    Rich glanced at Paul as if to ask if he was being ridiculed. Paul let his breath out and shrugged, wishing Rich would drop it and leave.
    â€œYeah, of course,” Rich said, using his how-dare-you lawyer tone. “Who isn’t?”
    â€œThen there is somebody waiting for a discussion with you,” Noah said. He put Rich’s card in his pocket, the pipe in his mouth, and turned around to look out the window.
    Rich stood for a moment, dismissed, then walked past Paul toward the door. “Weird friend you’ve gotthere,” he said as he stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed.
    Paul turned and Noah was back to his former appearance of long hair, beard, and white tunic.
    â€œI don’t know what to make of all this,” Paul said.
    â€œMaybe I shouldn’t have shape-shifted,” Noah said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I apologize for not staying within your belief structure.”
    â€œIt was pretty weird,” Paul said,