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“I’m just hoping for the best,” Hubble said. “I sort of felt if they wanted to get me, they might cool off after a while. I’m very useful to them. I hope they’ll think about that. Right now it’s a very tense situation. But it’s all going to calm back down very soon. I might just make it through. If they get me, they get me. I don’t care anymore. It’s my family I’m worried about.”
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The pathologist pushed the two Morrison files to one side and opened up the third. Glanced through it and looked across at me. The third file was thicker than the first two.
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“Where did you get on the bus?” he asked me.
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“I’m here in engineering right now, sir,” he said. Also jocular. Just two regular guys battling technology. “Customer details are in a different department. I could access that data, but it would take a minute, you know how it is. Also, sir, you’ve got to keep talking anyway while this meter is connected to give me an exact strength reading, you know? You may as well recite your address, unless you’ve got a favorite poem or anything.”
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The office was silent. Silent as a tomb. Roscoe looked at me. Stared at me for a while. Then she looked back at the doctor.
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“I need some advice,” he said. “I’ve got a problem.”
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