Thera was walking with Julie Svenson toward the lunch buffet in the reception building when Dr. Norkelus stormed up, an angry look on his face. She looked at him expectantly, trying to think what she would say if he asked about the package of cigarettes she’d just been given. She knew there’d be another message in them, though she hadn’t had a chance to look for it.
She had the first pack, which was almost empty. She’d give that to him.
“I need a message sent to the secretary general’s special committee,” said Norkelus, practically shouting at her. “It’s absurd.”
“You want me to help prepare it?” said Thera, trying not to let her relief show.
“Yes.” He took a voice recorder from his pocket. “The details are there. It must go out by one p.m., our time.”
“One?”
“I know. It’s ridiculous. Bureaucratic fools,” replied Norkelus, turning on his heel and stomping off.