Omegasphere Read Free Page B

was kicking himself for agreeing to read her material. He never was good at saying no. But, by time he got to his apartment building, he realized that, despite her oddness, he liked her. It was the one positive in an otherwise horrible day.

 
    CHAPTER 3
     
    Kurt took the elevator to the fourth floor. As he walked down the hall, he thought about Ursula. She was either the most interesting woman he had ever met or the weirdest. She was certainly not an easy one to pin down. What girl in Manhattan had no sense of style and didn’t own a phone? She was an urban anomaly, and that excited him.
    The matter of her book—that he now carried burdensomely in his left hand—was a completely different situation. He had no problem with the writing style or science behind her claims, but as an author she was what they referred to in the literary business as “Patently Unmarketable.” She was pathologically reclusive and the marketing of a nonfiction author relied heavily on the author’s willingness to go on the lecture circuit, go on book tours, and do interviews. An Emily Dickinson complex was a career killer. At the very least she had to be willing to have a website and do a weekly blog, but Ursula didn’t even have Internet access!
    Something told him that he was going to help her anyway. They had made a connection and Kurt felt that, for some reason, he understood her. The overdeveloped intellect, the quirkiness, and the shyness were just a shell created by a tragic event, a mask that concealed a deep sadness. Lately it seemed that his ability to read, understand, and therefore connect with people on a deeper level had been greatly enhanced; however, in this case, he also felt an attraction to her and he was looking forward to seeing her again.
    His phone rang in his pocket. It was Miles. Before he answered it, he took a deep breath . . . lawyers, copyright infringement, the police searching his home . . . reality was about to get rough.
    “Please tell me this has all been a bad dream,” Kurt answered.
    “Where are you?”
    “Walking towards my apartment.” Kurt searched his pockets for his keys.
    “Listen, you probably shouldn’t go home. Turn and walk in the other direction.”
    Kurt stopped. “What’s going on?”
    “Go check into a hotel. I’ll pick up the tab.”
    “What’s this about, Miles?”
    “The wife of one of the authors told me that men came to the house and took her husband into custody. She was hysterical. Apparently they didn’t have a warrant, didn’t read him his Miranda rights, nothing. I can’t get ahold of the other writers.”
    “The other writers? You mean the ones who also plagiarized Richard Bock? Don’t you think it’s a little strange that we all decided to plagiarize him ? It has to be a mistake, Miles. I started working on that book months ago. I can show you my notes.”
    “Listen carefully. They’re taking people into custody, so get yourself to a hotel until we can figure this thing out.”
    “They’re arresting people over a book?”
    “Bock has friends in high places. He plays cards with the Secretary of Homeland Security.”
    “This is ridiculous. He can’t have people falsely arrested just because he’s famous!”
    “Don’t be naive, Kurt. You need a lawyer. Tomorrow you’re going to turn yourself in, but we’re going to have the media there with us. We’re going to make an event out of this.”
    “Miles, don’t tell me this is some kind of a ploy to get publicity for the book. Come on, man.”
    “I’m trying to help you. This has already gotten out of hand. Right now our best play is to get this out into the open. It’s the only way.”
    “Get what out into the open? Do you know what’s going on?”
    When Kurt got to his apartment door, he noticed it was ajar. Through the crack, he could see someone was inside: a dark-skinned man, about forty-five years old, wearing a khaki-colored trench coat over a gray suit. The bastard was sitting at Kurt’s