My Quid, Your Quo (Double D)

[SilencedScream]

Lighthouse Park Bench - New York City
November 1st, 2011 - 2:57pm

It had taken nearly a month, but Ethan had finally gotten the call from Lou. "I got someone willing to barter info on Building 26." How Lou had come across someone willing to trade information, Ethan wasn't sure. Lou was a handy friend to have, with his far-reaching contacts and Ethan was not one to question strokes of luck.

Instead, his focus turned towards the information he would give over: photos of three armed men with gas masks and the face of the woman that they were attacking; as well as the twelve seconds of footage clear enough to see these people.

Ethan had hunted for surveillance footage after finding the bodies of his family following the bombing of Washington D.C. And, later that very day, he had seen the news broadcast of the man in the top hat, stating that the attack was retribution for Building 26. From that day forward, not a day had passed without Ethan searching for Building 26.

The con man had lost it all in that attack and, for nearly a month, Ethan had not been any closer to finding out why. But here it was. How much information? He wasn't sure; but anything was better than nothing.

Ethan crossed one leg over the other, pretending to read the newspaper held out before him. In reality, he couldn't care any less; for the first time in years, he felt anxious as he awaited the arrival of his contact. Lou had given little information to Ethan; just when and where to meet a man named Gavin. He wasn't sure how much information Gavin had been given either. Ethan made a mental note to talk to Lou about working on his vagueness.

As he flipped to the next page of the newspaper, Ethan peered over his sunglasses, down at his watch in order to check the time once again. It wouldn't be long now.

_{[Google Map: 40.772732,-73.940291 for actual location]}

[DivingDart]

Today was the day. While it was advisable to sit on information, there was a variety it was essential to shift as soon as possible, in order to receive its maximum worth. Recognising and instituting that balance was the key to good data management. The key to Gavin's life.

For a month or so now he had kept quiet and chased up tidbits. Little facts and figures that would validate and verify what earth-shattering news he already knew. Gavin had been observing the terrorist crisis as it unfolded, with all its public and non-public intricacies. Altogether his data bundle made quite the package. But it was still incomplete. Gavin did not know the whole story and probably never would. That's what you wanted in a hobby anyway – longevity.

The cry for what he knew was received last Sunday. Whilst carpooling with the kindly Dunant family after a church service, their gossip turned salient. Gavin was pleasantly surprised, seeing on how the couple rarely had much more important news than horse racing hunches and cooking secrets. Mr Dunant worked in estates, owning a lot of property in Washington he leased out to the government themselves. It was a profitable yet blind venture. The man rarely asked whether his buildings were being used as office space or staging grounds.

Anywho, the topic came round to mention Building-26 and suddenly Gavin was aflutter with questions. Turns out some friend of an associate's friend was asking after a building post codenamed as such. These class of people were no conspiracy theorists. Immediately Gavin usurped that contact and bartered for his own trade conditions. The second-to-last line of contact assured him that the payment would be to his liking.

Actual footage of inside the gas bombings. Unreal. Astounding. Even better – people were alive in there. Jackpot. Gavin had promised to make it worth their while and sailed on cloud nine all day. He arrived on Roosevelt Island within plenty of time.

Suited up in a fine jacket with a spotless white collared shirt, Gavin pressed on. He carried a laptop case and two folders clipped with his thumb. As the lighthouse reared into view, a content smile greeted it. Gavin had done his research on the area. The building was officially maintained by the Landmarks Preservation Commission – a society he was known among; but the bearded man neglected to call in a favour and ask for its keys. There would be no need to impress this business associate. Not when he saw what information Gavin had collected.

“Ah! Ethan I presume. Mr Gavin Hulme, Sir. One moment.” Missing an arm, it took Gavin a second to put down his possessions before offering the remaining one, “Your full name?” He demanded with a smile.

[SilencedScream]

With his pointer fingers, Ethan flipped the newspaper in half as footsteps signaled that someone was making a beeline for him. Tucking the paper aside blindly, he focused on the man, taking in as much detail as he could. Given Ethan's customary surroundings of people in businesswear, it actually took him a full moment to notice why the man carried all of his belongings in one hand: he only had one.

Despite the laptop case and folders, Ethan made no motion to remove the disc and accompanying photos from his inside suit pocket. It could very well be that everything the man carried was blank; there was no need to jump the shark by giving away information just yet.

Without missing a beat, Gavin Hulme proceeded to introduce himself and, without flinching, asked Ethan's name. It was an aggressive move. Probing. Any criminal - especially a con man - would feel uncomfortably uneasy with such direct questioning; some would even consider walking away on the spot. Gavin Hulme was an assertive man that enjoyed jumping in with both feet.

And Ethan liked the man immediately, standing and shaking the man's extended hand.

Convicted criminals were never the type to give their real name; with an already existing record, being linked to a new crime meant more jail time. Alleged criminals - such as Ethan - who were only tied to crimes via rumors and strong suggestions, were much more open about who they were. Because of the spread of rumors in the criminal underworld, there'd been numerous occasions in which Ethan had introduced himself, only to have his "alleged" reputation proceed him, whether the rumors be true or not.

Despite this, it was just as often that his name fell on unfamiliar ears, to people who had never heard his stories. Whether Gavin had heard of him or not was of no matter, though - the two had business.

"Ethan Delaney. It's a pleasure, Mr. Hulme."

[DivingDart]

“Delaney.” He shook firm with his arm, “Delaney, Ethan. Ethan Delaney... You know I'm sure I've come across that name before.” Perhaps the cruellest thing in Gavin's life was that he was not born with one of those eidetic memories. Of course the percentage of people gifted with this was so small it was not worth grieving about. Yet still, Hulme would give anything to have such a blessing. Information was always so much safer locked away in a mind than on paper.

The tragedy was lessened somewhat when you remembered they were in the Information Age. All answers were just an Internet connection away. Virtual encyclopedias were now the sum of all Earth's knowledge. No one had to worry about libraries being bombed or burnt down again. So when in need, Gavin released his hand-grip and took out his iphone.

“I'll be certain in a second. Honestly, it's on the edge of my mind. Why don't you get started, this shouldn't take a minute.” The one-armed man clipped one of his folders and forced it into Ethan's hands without so much as a glance, “That's the, er, the finance, arrears and utilities. Of the, erm, building thing you were looking for. So sorry for this. It'll drive me spare otherwise.”

Hopelessly distracted now, Gavin hadn't thought to clarify the validity at all, or even display an ounce of tact with his spot-check. Rather than leading his associate through everything page by page, assuring him it was what he asked for, Gavin had wanted to know who he was dealing with. Most people would ascertain that by first asking if Delaney had held up his end of the bargain and come with the footage, but Gavin trusted in background before foreground.

Sure he could analyse the man, judge by the stitching of his tie or the paper he'd been browsing, but all those things came later. Nothing got done without a proper desk study. Even if the desk study had to be done in the field.

[SilencedScream]

Thumbing the edge of the folder in anticipation, Ethan restrained himself from opening it immediately. He stood up from his spot on the bench, keeping a step's space between Mr. Hulme and himself. Despite the desire to tear through the folder in his hand for a name - any name, for that matter - Ethan wished to stay somewhat professional. He had been patient for a month; he could wait another minute or two while Gavin searched for his name.

Could Ethan blame him? No - this seemed to be Gavin's line of work, information. And Gavin, though a little... excitable, was going to be thorough; Ethan, if looking to do business in "acquiring" something, would have done the same. The last thing anyone in their lines of work needed was to place trust in the wrong person at the wrong time.

A younger Ethan had been sketched on the FBI's most wanted white collar criminals list, but his name had never been attached to it. Since then, he'd cut and styled his hair differently. Still, only surgery would change the facial structure that had clearly been picked up by the sketch artist; and Ethan wasn't particularly fond of the idea of parting with his face.

Would anything else come up, though? Possibly old news articles, where Ethan had been suspected of stealing a ceremonial mask several years prior. The evidence had been circumstantial and, as for as Ethan knew, it was now a cold case; there had never been an arrest, just a news reporter who happened to catch wind of Ethan being questioned.

However, even if nothing came up, Ethan's restraint for opening the folder - or simply taking it and running, for that matter - should serve to show that he was at least taking their meeting seriously. After another few more seconds, he switched the folder to his left hand and, slowly, reached into his suit jacket with his right. Retracting it again, he pulled out the photos, folded carefully over the thin case that held the CD that Ethan had brought in exchange.

Polite smile still in place, Ethan waited.

[DivingDart]

The rhythms unique to a touch screen came automatically to Gavin. Even with only five digits, he was surfing his remote Internet connection fast. To watch him work you would assume he had lived with a single arm for far longer than a just year. Only the truth was Gavin probably spent hours at this a day. A habit as bad forming as checking his watch during five minute intervals.

It was a few minutes before a hunch brought Gavin to one of his file sharing websites. With his password input, a list of names opened allowing the find function to search for Ethan's mention. His eyebrows drooped into a sympathetic expression as he derived knowledge from what he had uncovered, “My, my. You must excuse my impertinence. I'm sorry, I was not thinking specifically that... Had I known it was personal...”

Damn, he was blathering now. Gavin took a deep breathe and composed himself. Speak with clarity and form, “Ethan Delaney. The same Ethan Delaney that until several months ago lived within the fallout radius of Washington Biodetonation B. Named among a list of fortunates. Not followed by the names of any other family relations.” Gavin spoke in low respectful tones, gone was his eagerness, “I won't check casualties. Didn't mean to pry.”

The man was married. 'Was' probably being the operative word. Following the catastrophe, Gavin had been sifting through survivor reports. He wasn't the only one. Estranged yet concerned relations, as well as journalists, had all contributed to the master list as seen on the Internet. Being people that were personally connected with the dilemma, Gavin imagined the fortunates would have a story to tell. Hadn't gotten around to actually contacting anyone though. Wasn't tactful; too soon to ask after such things.

His lowered gaze spied the objects in Delaney's hand, “Is that...” He glanced at his watch.

[SilencedScream]

It had meant to be their final family outing, prior to the wedding - Ethan, his mother, fiancée, and children. They had already visited New York City once to look for a new residence; their home on the outskirts of the capital had been primed to sale and they had even had an offer. It had all been coming together, everything was almost aligned as if God Himself had ordained such a wondrous thing. And then...

As Gavin brought it up now, however, Ethan was mentally at a loss. He had forgotten; numbly, he had given his information - and that of his family's - after the attack. The details being brought up again by an almost complete stranger threw him for a loop. He remained motionless, managing only to keep the same business-like expression on his face as his insides fought for control over the emotions that attempted to break free.

Finally, wordlessly, Ethan bowed his head, his thumb sliding the wedding band slowly around his ring finger. No - Sarah had not given it to him; they had not been officially married, despite the ring he wore now. Ethan had only found it in their home after the funerals had taken place. As a token to her - a promise to find answers - he had taken it and worn it, as if she had given it to him herself.

As Gavin changed the subject, the widowed man's mind leaped at the opportunity to occupy itself with something else. Ethan raised his head, the business-like expression pasted on once more, despite the extra gleam in his eyes as he tried to keep the tears back. He stretched out his arm, offering the contents within his hand.

"Some..." He paused, coughing to clear his throat. "It is definitely some interesting footage, all for you."

[DivingDart]

Appreciative of the change in subject, Gavin at last tried to press matters forwards. At least from this he was in a position to comfortably deal with the man, given that his motivations were now clear. So a fortunate soul wanted to know why, did he? An admirable pursuit. Gavin always wanted that question answered when bad things befell him. It was how he'd come to learn of that terrorist Jimmy. The madman who had taken him for a limb. Intel suggested that the explosive-specialist was still at large, but Gavin knew different. There was no way Logan could have survived the detonation that had taken out the bank. He must be dead. Copycats a possibility.

But Delaney didn't have the luxury of knowing retribution had been served. His bad guys were still out there. Nemesis. What he intended to do about it was not Gavin's concern. He only rejoiced that the information he offered was of material and sentimental worth. Certainly a valued prize to be traded for at any price, no matter how high.

“Wonderful.” Stuffing his phone away, Gavin then took the CD case and peeled back one of the photographs, “And you say this was inside the blast radius- my, look at that. Armed, protected from the poison. Must have known what was going down. Someone must have. I thought someone knew when I bought in the stock markets that very day. Gas mask shares, people had already been buying in. Maybe it was these men.” He struggled to unravel all of the first picture, eager to hear more of those thousand one-worded clues that it contained.

What he saw next crumpled his brow, “Who's she?” Dead would be the obvious answer. To be without an air-filter when the gas hit was fatal. Only... the gunmen pointed their weapons at her. Who would bother shooting a dead man woman walking? Most perplexing.

[SilencedScream]

Ethan smirked slightly as the other man examined the pictures intently. Not that he blamed the man - Gavin dealt with information; any single detail could spark up a large resource for him, giving him more viable trade worth in the future. Ethan shifted his position, allowing view of the pictures as well. "In the video, the men move as a unit - like television-worthy stuff. They've definitely had some sort of military training, not just loafing around M16s for no reason. They knew what they were doing and were prepared for such an attack, it looks like."

But not prepared enough, thought Ethan; his family was still lost and whatever amount of preparation and anticipation was in place had failed to save them. "And the woman - she... well, perhaps you should examine the video for yourself, but... she gets back up." Ethan scratched his head, his eyes looking up to Gavin to see if the words registered with the man. "I mean - they take her down. She hits the ground. And - gas starts blowing in and the shot isn't too clear, but... Mr. Hulme, I really think she stands back up."

What did it mean to either of them? Ethan wasn't sure, but it suggested that the woman was not merely an average woman. She had some training or secrets of her own tucked away. Even if the men had only been using tasers, standing up immediately after thousands of volts was a feat within itself. As far-fetched as it seemed in his own mind, it was beginning to look like a gang-style, secretive war amongst military persons. M16s, chemical warfare, people fighting - unaware of some of it being acquired by a nearby camera...

Though, oddly enough, there had not been any mention of other footage from the attack. Had it all be covered up? Removed? Was the government - or one of the persons in the video - attempting to hide something from the public? While these relevant questions to Ethan who sought meaning behind the murder of his family, Gavin was the information broker here and would likely be asking the same questions.

Stepping back slightly, Ethan thumbed over the edge of the folder in his hand once more before opening it for the first time to view the contents within. Eyes quickly scanning the first page, he asked, "What exactly am I looking at here, again? This is most certainly government related; look at all this money movement..."

[DivingDart]

Lost in minds eye for the moment, Gavin focused his thoughts intently on both what was before his eyes, and what was behind his ears. Delaney's walk-through of the video was his backing-track as he forced the photographed events to play out. Plain clothes military attacking a dying woman, and she recovers? Given that he knew what faction Nemesis represented, the conclusion was all too clear to Gavin.

Ahhhhhh.

The mystery woman had to be with the terrorists. Another Special alongside the man in the top-hat. His brethren. The prospect of having a working visage to investigate excited the one-armed civilian. And the dynamics of who may have been trying to stop her added another layer of questions to seek explanation for. Ideal.

Awkwardly re-centring his thoughts back to reality, Gavin turned to listen as Ethan spoke a question. Already it had slipped his mind what he had said so far, so he began again, “Cash flow mostly. Proof for existence of activity at the site designated in all government notifications as 'Building-26'. Officially the premises dealt as a Homeland Security administrative outpost. Rather a lot of military personnel there for that.”

Sighting something on page, Gavin immediately stepped forward and jabbed his finger at the print, “Look there. Look at the expenditure on medical supplies. They were carting in dopamine by the metric ton. Distribution of resources are mainly exports to bases of undercover operations. Need I mention that there's no way to prove such shipments ever made it.”

“To be frank, I believe Building-26 was a government sanctioned operation for the express purpose of rounding up and perhaps experimentation of U.S. citizens. Now this may sound inhumane to you, but it is likely at the time the President, or at least someone in his office, was acting on very inconvenient intelligence.”

“But that intelligence is superfluous. You wanted to know about Building-26 only.” Gavin wanted to tell him, he was dying to tell someone. To reveal just how far along he'd come in unravelling the secrets of society. Alone, by himself, just a polite conversationalist and his computer. It was even morally right to let Ethan know the full reason why he had suffered loss.

Yet Hulme surrendered to self-control. His payment for the Building-26 dossier was substantial, but not worth the bulk of his knowledge on Specials roaming around just out of sight. A world changing piece of intel required a reward more substantial than raw footage, open to interpretation. It deserved solid evidence and answers to questions men dared not ask.

[SilencedScream]

Ethan's eyes continued scanning over the documents in his hands, his ears acting in sync with the collection of information from Hulme's mouth. Dopamine? For what? Even before Ethan could begin to guess, Gavin spoke up, suggesting that the government was rounding up people for experimentation. Honestly, the whole matter sounded like something a UFO conspiracy theorist would cook up in order to get attention. But the numbers were here, in front of him. Someone had bothered to move large shipments of the drug for some reason. And, because of it, some people were thoroughly angry - enough so that there was a casualty list with Ethan's family on it.

Suddenly, the conspiracy theory didn't sound like such a theory anymore. Ethan had seen the television interruption; it had been re-run several times by the news media. And, as if it weren't enough, it was all over Youtube. The man in the top hat and sunglasses...

"For every one of our fallen brethren slain by their infernal Building Twenty Six, we will reap one hundred thousand lives!"

If the man in the top hat was to be believed, the government had killed many of his "brethren." And the word "brethren" suggested that - if abductions were taking place - that it wasn't random. They had selected specific targets. They had singled in on who was to be abducted and experimented on.

But what made them so different from the rest of the populace? Thousands of lives had been lost in the attacks - and yet, not a single one of them were this man's "brethren?"

"...acting on very inconvenient intelligence. But that intelligence is superfluous. You wanted to know about Building-26 only.”

Ethan's gaze paused on the page as his mind wrapped around the words. Letting out a slow, steady breath - in order to keep his heart from racing - he spoke, not lifting his head to Gavin. "Mr. Hulme," he started, striving to keep his voice steady when, really, all he wanted to do was yell the words. "You're withholding information as to why my family was very inconveniently killed."

Taking another deep breath, Ethan finally raised his eyes to Gavin's, the determination and resolve crystal clear within them. "Whatever further information you have..." He licked his lips, revising his original sentence. "My aim is to know why and what happened that caused that day to take place. There is no one that will stop me from doing that. If I can manage a breath, I will make whatever step necessary to finding these answers."

"Mr. Hulme - everything I lived for was taken from me. No forewarning, no consideration, no sympathy. I have nothing else to lose, I have nothing to fear. I will go to lengths that no one else can or will, and I will uncover whatever it is that is being hidden here," he stated, his voice unfaltering.

"If you will help me now - whatever end I uncover, whatever intel I find, no matter how small - it's yours. My only goal is to find the man or woman responsible for all this - to find out what was so goddamn important - that I had to lose it all for them to gain."

[DivingDart]

A carefree hand had waved away the need to elaborate on the secondary details. It was his only hand, but the wrist was twitching in a nonchalant way. So when Ethan had intimated his first sentence in reply, it was strangely fitting that the joint then locked. Gavin was frozen with a displeased frown upon his features. He so dearly hated threats, no matter how thinly veiled. It just wasn't how trade worked. Daft to think otherwise.

There was no mistaking the sheer resolve as Ethan went on. Here was a man who loved his family. Of that Gavin derived. But did that given him some precedence over others? Hardly – the logical answer. Without a doubt – the ethical opinion. All his life Gavin had been an apt hand in calculating trade. It was only a recent religious revival that made him more sympathetic to the moral necessities of certain information. To a degree, people had a right to the truth.

The promise of repayment was nice. I.O.U.s had been accepted before, just never over something so big. Yet the returns could be massive, incalculable. To a sufficiently driven man, even legal safeguards were not a deterrent on some data. As one with status, Gavin had never been tempted to cross that line. Just deal with people who had.

His gaze faltered. A sigh escaped as Gavin decided that he would come to regret this decision. The decision to trust the man with wild ambitions, “You will have to take my word. Cold, hard evidence costs.” Working his way back to the bench, Gavin invited them both to sit and pressed at his forehead with two fingers.

“I am officially a taxonomist by trade, you know. I identify and categorise new evolutions of species by the Linnean Classification system. So believe me when I tell you that this revelation was by no means taken lightly.” He began to perk up, regain the enthusiasm that came with his discovery.

“A percentage of humanity has evolved. They can no longer be considered Homo sapiens, but rather a variation that still bares no strict nomenclature. Because they officially do not exist. Once our government learned of the truth, they tried to wipe them out. And here,” A folder was shaken at Ethan's face, “here is the proof. American people on their own soil, baring the gene, were taken against their will and held in this Building-26. I cannot yet give you names with any degree of confidence but this happened. Right under our noses.”

A weight was beginning to lift, replaced by the swell of pride. It was the big leagues from here on out. Gavin was swapping facts with world changing consequences. He wanted desperately to validate it in some way that did not over-arch his own reserve of evidence, “I'll show you what I mean.” At once he began work on extracting his laptop from the case he'd put down earlier.

[SilencedScream]

It was interesting to watch the change in Gavin's demeanor as the topic at hand became both more serious and darker. The man who had first approached with both eccentricity and a smile now held himself solemnly, speaking in tones that suggested that his words may change the very course of the world as they knew it. And, for Ethan, this held no exaggeration. His very purpose hung on whatever information Gavin Hulme presented to him now. As Gavin let out a sigh, Ethan knew that the man was sympathetic towards the con man's resolve.

Following Gavin back to the table, Ethan took a seat next to him, his full attention on the information broker. It took him a moment to begin speaking, but as he began to do so, his excitement - and even a hint of pride over his findings - began to rise. Whatever Gavin was building up to, he was proud to have uncovered the secret, proud to be one of the few privy to the information that he held.

“A percentage of humanity has evolved..."

Ethan listened intently, remaining silent until Gavin began to search through his laptop for evidence. Upon the man's pause, however, the con man shook his head. His original excitement over finding someone that knew something about this Building 26 had died completely. Instead, it had been replaced with a boiling rage at the thought that his family had died because of a few science experiments conducted by some scientists commissioned by the United States government.

"So... let me get this straight," he hissed, his voice quivering slightly as he tried to keep both the unbelief and rage out of his voice. "My family - my everything - was lost due to an act of revenge against the government because the government was abducting - what? People with six toes?"

[DivingDart]

Gavin retrieved his laptop out of its case, removing the crisp new-looking dust cover from the lid, and activating it from standby mode. This miniature computer didn't stay out in the open when not in use. Its maintenance had been assured in that. The pristine plastics did not have a knick on them. You'd be forgiven for thinking it was new.

Gavin waited for his start menu to load with scarcely contained impatience, "People with six- The government doesn't give this level of attention to even terrorist cells. Why on earth would you suppose that they were concerned about webbed feet?" He was forcing Ethan to think, to use his brain. Meanwhile he connected to the Internet by use of a doohickey, keenly observant that his fingers were not watched, yet his typing speed was almost incomprehensible. He entered a password, and was forwarded a read-only copy of some files that had been stored at a third party information hub.

Gavin filtered through these until he found the first and best example, "Jenny Hersely. Coroner's report states that her body was cleaved clean in three. The back end was found inside of her house, and outside, adjacent to the same wall, was her front. The third middle section was never found. A six inch torso section the exact same thickness of an average wall."

"Dudley Trapper. Works at a steel plating mill roughly ten miles from his home. Has never arrived by vehicle. Here's one in plainer English. Mahir Advani. Visited the woods across from his house and fired radiation bolts at trees. These bolts leave trace beta waves. Advani is currently missing."

"These people don't have six toes. They have sixth senses. They possess physical and mental capabilities that suggest evolutional superiority. Those New York vigilantes? Would anyone dare play superhero without superpowers? I dare say not."

[SilencedScream]

Ethan crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation. How could the answer be something so incredulous? Something so asinine? If this was the information, if this was the true reason as to why he family was collateral damage for events that didn't concern Ethan nor them... then... well, what the hell? Mr. Hulme proceeded to search through his laptop for what the con man hoped was something a bit more reasonable sounding. It wasn't.

Pursing his lips, attempting to not allow the barely containable yells to pass from his mouth, Ethan leaned in over Gavin's shoulder to read the content, despite the other man reading it aloud. A woman cut in thirds. Not... compelling evidence. A man that didn't use a car to get to work? Perhaps dropped off nearby, by bus?

A radioactive man. Nothing solid, but it was slowly dawning on Ethan, what Gavin was trying to get across.

No...thought Ethan, slowly shaking his head. But it was there. And there were just a few. How many did it take for coincidence to become solid evidence? People with overdeveloped genetics - like how the first creature had climbed out of the primordial ooze, how fish had grown legs.

Only these were people - or what looked like people. And they could do f*ck-all, it seemed. Traveling through walls, flying - or was it superspeed? - to work, radioactive people. Ethan's mind flickered back to the few comic book characters he could think of. Did these people have wings? Could they shoot webs? Could they become invisible, grow in size, read minds?

Ethan took a step back, his usually quick mind fumbling for words to say, for questions to bring up. Gavin believed this information - his body language, his demeanor, his word choice all signaled that he fully believed what he was saying. And Ethan had pushed the man for enough questions; he had not originally planned on giving Ethan this information in itself

It was something to think over. And, perhaps, he could find a link - find someone missing during the time frame of the Building 26 operation. If it all panned out, then...

Taking a deep breath, Ethan nodded to Gavin, his swirling thoughts being pushed aside for the moment. "Mr. Hulme," he said quietly, the manilla envelope tucked under his left arm, "thank you for your time. If... when I uncover something, I stand by my word - you shall know."

With that - the truth - the con man shook the information broker's hand, turned, and left. He had more digging to do and there were still at least three good hours of daylight left - none to be wasted.


_[Fin]