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A.R.Yngve
PARRY'S PROTOCOL
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Chapter 60
EASTON UNIVERSITY
NORFOLK, VIRGINIA
OCTOBER 19
Abram woke up with a faint, frightened yelp. His gaze flickered about his cramped office: bookshelves, a cluttered desk, a chair, and a view of the campus from the window. The old wall-clock sounded a delicate ting-ting signal; it was two in the afternoon, local time.
A knocking came from the door, a pause, then another knocking. Abram pushed away the blanket which covered his body. He sat up on the couch -- still dressed in a shirt and slacks -- found his shoes, and put them on. The knocking on the door intensified. With a prolonged groan, he rose to his feet and lurched to the door. When he opened, Abram faced a grave middle-aged man in a conservative suit and a wool muffler around his neck. Abram squinted, pulling back his unruly scalp hair.
"Abram?" said the visitor.
"Good morning, Steve. Long time no see," Abram muttered in a cracked voice, and let the man inside.
"Yes, long time indeed," the man said with a contemptuous sniff, as he scanned the room. He had a soft, slightly bloated face and body, but hard glassy eyes. "Did I wake you?"
Abram adjusted his eyeglasses -- he had slept with them on -- and searched among his things for something, while talking: "I suppose you've heard what happened at the place where I was studying that patient?"
Steve frowned: "Yes, it's all over the news now. God, a bomb dropped on a small town. Terrible story... I understand you were tired after that. How did you... I mean, were you anywhere close to the... explosion?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
He opened a drawer and pulled out a table phone, connecting it to the wall socket.
"Any messages for me while I've been away?"
Abram sat down at the desk and dialed the number to Annie. There was no answer.
"Did you lose your cellular phone in... in Westmoreham?"
Abram grunted distractedly, ignoring him. He dug through his paper and book piles for a moment, then looked up at Steve.
"You haven't got a phone book, do you? I've lost my entire list of numbers and addresses."
Steve sniffed and said: "Abram, I understand this isn't the right time to challenge your victimization. But we have to have a serious talk about your work here. Two FBI persons were here yesterday, asking questions about you."
Abram's eyes met Steve's hard, glassy ones -- and he said, with a feral grin: "Spare me the politically correct bullshit. You can't fire me, Steve -- I quit."
"I didn't mean to --"
"Yes, you did. Ask the janitor to carry in some empty boxes for my books. I'll hand in my resignation today."
Steve held up a hand to stop Abram's pacing around the chamber. Abram halted, tired irritation written all over his features.
"Please, Abram; I'm not just the principal. I'm also your colleague and friend since many years. I know you're going through some hard times, so if you'd just sit down and talk to me --"
"You know, Steve: those cold fish-eyes of yours always did betray you. Now leave me alone before I kick you out. This office is mine until I hand in the resignation."
The principal's face went purple, and his mouth tightened to a thin line. Without a word, he left the office. Abram went back to his desk, and made a call.
"New York Post, may I help you?"
"Is Kris Silverstein in? Tell him it's 'Old Merlin.'"
In a second, a man with a Brooklyn accent answered: "'Old Merlin'"? How are you, it's been a long time!"
"I'm okay. Kris... 'my old mother is in the room, and she's eager to listen in'. What should I tell her?"
"That I'm doing just fine, and 'your old mother shouldn't worry about me.' Okay, is there anything you'd like us to meet and talk about?"
"No, wouldn't make much difference now. Look -- I need to find someone, and I don't think the authorities will be of any help. Could you give me a clue to what to do?"
"Where was the last place you saw this person?"
"Westmoreham."
"Oy gevalt! That place is a mess -- the body count has hardly begun yet. Is it a close relation? A disaster eyewitness?"
"This is no cover story, Kris. It's personal."
"Sorry. But I think I know what to do. Listen..."