Queens. NY. 19 December 2011.
The Hospital was empty, only covered by a fine layer of dust dancing in the air. Lorraine was wearing a short skirt, maybe too much striking, even for the Intensive Care Unit.
‘Doctor Mirror?’ She asked.
‘Second room to the right,’ the receptionist answered.
When she entered the room, there was a note over the desk and a briefcase. She opened the note and read:
Here you can obtain some information about flu. Don’t publish it now. It is not ready for now.
Lorraine smiled. Why not publish? In these times and in this job, the most important thing is not the truthfulness but the speed. Lorraine took the briefcase and left the room as quickly as she got in.
Phone call to the editor. He is anxious.
‘Do you have it?’
‘I have it.’
Next step: the editorial department.
Somewhere in Manhattan
He opened the briefcase: two recipients with two bags of blood. He was expecting this for months. Would it be so easy? When the game began, he was just a grant holder, less than a journalist. Now, he had on his hands the definitive proof: the blood. Somewhat must be wrong, somebody might be deceiving him. He decided to hide the briefcase. Did Lorraine know it? He couldn’t be sure of anything at this point. He needed to talk to Dr. Mirror.
He checked the mail on PC. No new messages. He took a deep breath and he could feel her perfume on the air. Lorraine was there.
Somewhere in NY. Day IV
‘How is he?’ he asked.
‘He is getting better,’ Lorraine answered. ‘I think he can remember soon, very soon.’
‘Did he read the notes?’
‘He did. He will remember what we want’
Previous delivery of the serial novel: http://yareah.com/?p=876