This is crazy, he told himself. How can you be tired at a time like this? The air conditioner in the conference room wheezed, losing the battle to keep the heat of the summer evening at bay. He desperately needed another coffee. Despite the couple of hours’ nap he’d caught back home before the spooks from NSA sucked him in, his eyes kept half-closing, threatening him with a sleep-deprivation shutdown. “Agent Fleming?” “Oh. Yeah? Sorry, what was the question?” “How long have you been awake?” It was Smith, his expression unreadable. Mike shook himself. “About fifty hours. Got about an hour’s sleep before your guys picked me up.” “Ah-right.” Out of the corner of one eye Mike barely registered Herz from the FBI office looking sympathetic. “Okay, I’ll try not to keep you,” said Smith. “We need you awake and alert for tomorrow.
