Both of our emotions were running high and tearswere going down her face and mine."That may very well have something to do with this then," he said, "Letme check with my office and see if they got a good picture of them on oursecurity cameras..." He was on his phone for several minutes and didn'tlook happy while he was doing so. He finally looked down at his phone andshook his head before coming back over to us. "Look, my men will keep aneye out on you for the rest of the afternoon while you're here on campusuntil we find this lady. She seems to have had a man helping her too, butthe cameras didn't record a good view of either of their faces, and thewhole area here is blank for fifteen minutes..." Damn," Amanda swore.I thought for a second before suggesting. "I could sketch her face on mytablet if you give me a few minutes?"He looked at me a little dubiously and said, "Sweetie I appreciate youwant to help, but your stick figures won't help?" Well darn, I was going to give you. The Sisterhood’s Tables of Organization were terrific. Sheila ran the show but served at the pleasure of the membership. Mostly, the Sisterhood operated like the pirates and buccaneers back in the age of sail. Piracy, despite its savage reputation, was a remarkably democratic institution. A pirate captain served at the pleasure of his or her crew.Within the folder were scores of different organizational structures designed to meet every conceivable apocalyptic scenario. If the end came from war, the society plans were ready. Several of the women within the clan held degrees or training in radiation or nuclear medicine. Pandemic? Three tables of organizations stood prepared for deployment.Organizationally, the Society of Sisters was a bureaucratic Rubik’s cube with the ability to morph and adapt to ever-changing circumstances. Like the Marines, every sister was first a rifleman. Riflewoman? Whatever. They knew how to shoot. About fifteen of Sheila’s kittens had the claws of expert.
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