Seven
So Many Secrets
I wake Friday morning to the ringing of the secure burner phone plugged into its charger on my nightstand.
“Hullo …” Humboldt lifts his head next to me and then drops it again, sighing as he returns to sleep.
“Lara, honestly, it’s eight o’clock. Wake up.” Rupert’s voice sounds stronger than it has in a while.
“Why are you harassing me … I don’t have to be at the office until nine.” I push up against my pillows. “Hey, you sound good.”
“I awoke with a renewed vigor,” he says. “A calm in the storm.”
“That’s so great to hear. What are the doctors saying?”
He rattles off something about white counts and a possible transfusion and a positive response to the last round of immunotherapy and that if all goes to plan, he will be back on Thalia in a month’s time.
A mont
