The note, instead of throwing away, I carefully folded and put in my purse. This was a memory. This held history, just like the antique relics I bought and sold for living. I smiled again at that memory as I went on with the day.
The thoughtfulness with which JJ set an alarm on my phone gave me just enough time to prepare and freshen up before someone—a young woman in serving staff uniform—was sent to call me to a conference room.
By the time I walked in, Elena was already there, sitting at the head of a long table, perusing a stack of papers, sometimes making notes. A small camera stood on the table, pointing at her with its lens. At the opposite end of the room, a projector shot an image of a screensaver on a white screen. Next to a smaller table in a corner, a guy who looked like a stereotypical technician IT nerd sat with a somewhat bored expression.
