Читать книгу The Pinocchio Syndrome - David Zeman - Страница 23

Alexandria, Virginia

November 28

Karen got back to her apartment late in the evening. She had left her car in the long-term lot at the airport and driven home through light traffic.

She was drained. Her jet lag had reached incalculable proportions, and the mental exhaustion of pursuing such a difficult story was taking its toll.

She was beginning to wonder whether it was all real. Perhaps she was tilting at windmills again. True, a lot of people were sick, including the vice president of the United States. Others were dead. But were they all victims of the same disease?

The symptoms of the illness were bizarre. So was the pattern of the spread. It didn’t make much sense. But did that mean there was a conspiracy afoot? Perhaps there was a simple and logical explanation for everything.

Karen poured herself a drink – the first really stiff one she had had since she left home – and took a long swallow before peeling off her clothes. She left the drink on the kitchen counter and unpacked her suitcase. She emptied the hamper, threw all the dirty clothes into the washer, and started the cycle. She walked naked into the bedroom and looked in the drawer where she kept her bras and panties. No panties – they were all dirty.