Seen And Not Seen (The Veil Book 1) Read Free

signs of weaponization,” says Felton. “Blood work will throw up any viral pathogens or macrobiotics. Will take time, though.”
    Lucius bristles at Felton’s cold manner. “And her general medical condition?”
    The muted condescending tone is lost on Felton, “Unusually healthy, despite the apparent starvation. There are healing sores on her skin—we’ve taken a biopsy.” Returning his gaze to the child, “The sand around the podium is from the Sudan. She must be a refugee.”
    “What we are seeing here—there could be more?” Lucius says, transfixed by the child.
    “This one will likely be a sample. A tip off. But she is going to be missed. We need to find out where she has been and with whom as a matter of urgency. The nurse can translate.”
    Lucius is not convinced by their approach. “You realize we can’t question her directly about it. You need a specialist in child therapy. I can make a recommendation.”
    “No time for anyone else. You’re it. Besides, there’s no sign of mental trauma, she’s lucid, talking, and engaging in play.”
    A wide-eyed Lucius confronts Felton, “That’s what bothers me.”

A MAN
    The coffee shop is busy with commuters ordering skinny this, decaf that. Overhead a rolling news channel shows an area of ramshackle tents, and the starving people encamped there, as the anchor woman talks of the increase in refugees fleeing the famine in central Africa.
    Robert waits uncomfortably in line, shyly avoiding eye contact with others while at the same time fidgeting nervously with his shabby suit. Two city slickers silently mock him behind his back. He reaches the front of the line, the waitress looking him up and down with disdain.
    “Sir, if I take your order do you have the means to pay for it?”
    A snigger from the city slickers before a hush descends on those standing nearby, making the news channel more audible as it talks of ecological hotspots around the globe. Robert shuffles nervously as people turn to stare at him. He produces a twenty dollar bill.
    “Cash? You’re going to pay with cash ?”
    “A large Americano to have in.”
    “I cannot serve you an Americano, Sir. Americano is now a trademark of…”
    He could hardly blame them. It had been one of the oddest quirks of recent years. A strange alignment of circumstances creating the most bizarre of business opportunities. The opportunity had presented itself and it had been taken. He would have done the same himself and indeed had done something similar at about the same time. But right now, for the briefest of moments, it was focusing Robert’s mind and that was enough to abruptly shift his demeanor, the shyness melting away to reveal the tiniest glimpse of a profound confidence.
    “But you know what an Americano is, right?”
    “ Sir. ”
    A testily delivered response that Robert considers to be a clear indicator of enough buttons having being pressed with no value to be gained from pressing more. “Triple espresso with water.”
    “You want space for—”
    “Black.”
    The service is efficient and the coffee already made. Robert hands over the money, takes the cup and steps away under the mocking gaze of the slickers. The bustle of the coffee shop resumes as he shyly looks about for a seat. A table frees up and Robert quickly secures it. A group of three other patrons, also looking for a table, are not amused.
    “Oh, come on, man! There’s a single seat at the window.”
    Robert ignores them, fidgeting nervously. The altercation is slight and doesn’t attract much attention, but the leader of the group steps it up a gear.
    “Hey. Did you hear what I said? There’s three of us. Can’t you take a single seat?”
    A few people start to stare Robert’s way, this time with questioning expressions. He stares awkwardly at his coffee, seemingly unable to deal with the situation confidently.
    “I don’t want any trouble,” Robert mumbles.
    The waitress spies the situation with a questioning look of