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Maybe this was an epidemic that would claim us all. Hello, Sylvie said, in a very neutral voice. She was standing behind me, bundled in a Macin- tosh scarf that snaked around her neck three times. In her left hand she held her standard vinyl equipment bag. Her hair was bunched up, arranged under the round cap perched on her head. Fedora or deerstalker? Maybe that was where I had derived the dream. Been a while, I replied. Did Chen call you tonight? Last night. Told me to come over tonight. Tonight? The bastard -- somehow he had timed it all out, down to the minute. Yeah. On the way, got a call from Kellen -- is he upstairs? Yes. Did Chen mention me when he called you?  |
The corner of her mouth tightened. They have a term for people who think that the world is centered on -- That's a yes, then. We'll discuss that later, in private. He called me tonight. From his apartment. Kellen will ask you to transcribe the conversation. Go ahead and transcribe it, exactly. But there's one part you must leave out. She shook her head slowly, as if to say here you go again. She said, Are you telling me how -- You're mentioned in the conversation. You'll know when you hear it. You'll know what to leave out. She looked down at her shoes, then up at me, then down at her shoes again. Kellen will find out eventually, she said. Not if you're convincing. I'm no linguistic master -- he'll trip me up on an  |
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