The school for physicists

Leslie was gone and now I had to face the music. After searching high and low on the ‘lev, and throughout the station, she was nowhere to be found. Obviously, she squirrelled herself away somewhere on the ‘lev after she got out of her suite and made her escape as soon as we pulled into the station. By the time we had opened her room she was long gone. 

So, here I was in Adams’ office empty-handed. His phone had been ringing almost continuously since his secretary ushered me in. He wasn’t here, but someone on the other end of that phone sure wished he was. 

The phone stopped ringing and Adams finally entered the office from a private door behind his desk.  He gave me a little scowl and then turned his attention to the top paper on the mountain of papers covering his desk. 

The phone started to ring again.

Adams reached over the mountain and punched the speaker phone button, “Yes.”

“Mr. Adams, there’s a woman here at reception who says she’s a physicist with the Richard Feynman School of Lock-Picking and that she has an appointment to see you this morning.”

Adams looked at me. I looked at Adams.

“Send her up.”

The next instalment can be found here.