“I’m going to make coffee,” Brent said, startling Jeremiah out of his contemplations.

On the monitor, Jeremiah watched as the clone got into the rental car, started the engine and backed into the driveway. He drove to work listening to news radio and sighing occasionally at the traffic on the highway. How the hell had they gotten a camera into the rental car?

Brenda, the bubbly, flame-haired receptionist for ViMed’s Communications department, greeted him at the office in typical exuberance. She wore an equally brash outfit, featuring a pair of oversize kelly-green hoop earrings that were specifically distracting.

“Good morning, Mr. Adams,” she said, handing him a single slip of pink paper. “Walt Thompson from the New York Times.”

“Thanks,” he said, looking her directly in the ears. “Anything else?”

“You have that editorial meeting at 11:15 and the printer will be here at noon to go over the proofs of the newsletter. Other than that, pretty quiet so far.”

The clone nodded and headed into his office. He closed the door and the camera angle shifted. This one, if Jeremiah had to guess, was located in one of the paintings on the wall directly in front of him and afforded a clear view of the desk and a head-on view of the clone.

Walt Thompson was a science editor for the Times and Jeremiah’s former classmate and one-time colleague on a Boston paper. There was a chance the call could have been a social one, but Jeremiah suspected it more likely had to do with Meld. Even without a current storm over the drug, Walt had been keenly preoccupied with it, writing no fewer than four stories on the drug in the past two months. He was probably still chasing it. The clone sighed and picked up the phone to dial.

Jeremiah could hear only the clone’s side of the conversation, but it was relatively easy to figure out that his suspicions had been correct.

“Give it a rest, would you, Walt?” he said. “If you want another angle, why don’t you talk to that doctor in Delaware again? I hear he’s using Meld more and more. There’s your story...

“What am I hedging about? I don’t have anything new. There’ve been no more suicides, no incidents at all since New Jersey. Maybe the kinks have been worked out. Maybe the cops are doing their jobs...”

Maybe, Jeremiah thought in the lab, it was just a stroke of dumb luck.

“You’re being ridiculous. You’re starting to sound like one of those conspiracy theorists. I think you need a vacation...

“Look, I can put you in touch with someone else from the science end, but I think you’re barking up a dead tree here, Walt. There’s nothing new to report...

“I’m not defending anyone. This is my job...

“Yeah, yeah, the award thing. No, I haven’t forgotten,” the clone said, his tone shifting from the defensive for the moment. Walt had been after him to attend an award dinner in New York City at the end of the month. Jeremiah had no inclination of going.