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He fell back into silence. He was running it through his head again. Probably for the thousandth time. Trying to figure out if his decision had been the right one.
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“Somewhere we can go to talk?” I said.
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“OK,” I said. “But you can’t identify who it belongs to because you have no reverse directories for mobiles and their office won’t tell you, right?”
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“OK,” she said. She shrugged and smiled. “Let’s go.”
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“Sure,” the guy said. “You heard about the Foundation?”
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He shuffled a form from another drawer and checked his watch to enter date and time. He slid the form across to me. A large printed cross marked the line where I was supposed to sign. He slid me a pen. I signed and slid the form back. He studied it. Placed it in a buff folder.
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