Forty-twoSnelling busied himself in the corner, opening a white-painted wall cabinet and bringing out a half empty bottle of scotch. He poured equal measures into two glass beakers, turned and brought one over to Marilyn whilst he took a sip from the other. She studied the drink and looked up at Shepherd, who merely smiled. “Not for me,” he said.
She shrugged and took a large mouthful, wincing as the fiery liquid hit the back of her throat.
“I know this is difficult to take in all at once, Miss Jarvis.”
“You could say that. Difficult to take in, and even more difficult to believe.”
“Yes. But it will become easier soon. When you have the evidence.”
“Evidence?”
Snelling pressed his hand on her shoulder. “Tell her the rest, Professor.”
Shepherd nodded. “Very well. I have lived and work
