He rolled over and grabbed for it blindly. “Hello?” “John Mitchell?” “Yeah,” he yawned, forcing himself awake. “This is Lawrence Rayborne, from the Appropriations Committee.” His voice was agitated, a mix of anger and fear. Mitch sat up. “Yes, Mr Rayborne. You’re working late.” “We need to talk.” “You’ve got something for me?” “I want to know just what the hell you’ve got me into!” “What do you mean?” “I asked a few questions about this Siren thing, and now I have these people all over me. They’ve been watching me all day. Asking me questions.” “What people? Who did you talk to?” “One of the senators. You didn’t tell me this was a black project. I never get involved in those things. I want to give you your money back. The deal’s off.” “A black project?” “Be in my office at ten, tomorrow. I’ll give you a check for the money you deposited in my account, and then there’ll be no more communication between us. Good night.”
