Lemuria, Burt Clinchandhill [adventure books to read .TXT] 📗

two days, doctor?” Jennifer sat up straight in the bed, slapping both arms on the covers.

“I’ll advise it.”

“Thank you, doctor,” both women replied simultaneously.

“Not a problem,” Dr. Elder replied as he turned and walked out the door.

“That’s nice, honey.” Sylvia took her daughter's hand. “Two days and you’re out of—”

“Actually, I’m sorry,” the doctor said, suddenly returning to the room. “There’s one more thing I almost forgot, if you don’t mind?”

“Sure,” Jennifer replied. “What is it?”

“As you probably know, hospitals like these are often supported by sponsors.” Jennifer and Sylvia both nodded. “Well, one of our biggest sponsors who coincidentally heard of your case—of course without knowing who you are—took a special interest in it. Now, we’re not in the habit of pairing sponsors and patients, but just this morning, I ran into him again in the hallway. He asked me again and would very much like to speak with you and, as far as I understand it, you might have something in common. I think he might have an interesting proposal for you.” Dr. Elder paused for a long moment while Sylvia and Jennifer looked at each other. “So, what do you think?”

“It can’t hurt to meet.” Jennifer looked at her mother.

“I know you’re just as curious as your father was, so I think you better meet the man, or you’ll be thinking about it for a long time.” Sylvia smiled brightly while Jennifer laughed.

“No problem,” she said, nodding. “Send him by.”

“Great, I’ll call him as soon as I’m out of here, and I’m sure he’ll drop by shortly.” Dr. Elder left the room again.

“I wonder,” Sylvia hinted, “if this is the man you’ve been waiting for your entire life.”

“Mom!”

“I’m just saying, honey. So, what do you think this benefactor wants?”

“I have no idea,” Jennifer replied, while sliding a finger over her cellphone.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m looking for a list of corporate sponsors on the hospital’s website. Here it is.”

“And?” Sylvia asked curiously.

“From John Hancock to Ronald McDonald to Copart automobiles and another dozen or so contributors. Could be any of these.”

“We’ll just have to wait,” Sylvia said as they heard a knock at the door.

“Hello,” a loud voice sounded from the door.

Jennifer and Sylvia looked at each other with tilted heads. “Hello, please come in,” Jennifer called out.

A dark blond man, dressed in light blue jeans and dark blue plaid sports blazer, walked into the room.

“Hi,” the man spoke in a croaky voice. “I’m sorry to barge in, but I believe David Elder announced me?”

“That’s quick,” Jennifer answered. “He didn’t say who was coming. He just said someone was interested, so....”

“Oh, yes, sure, sorry again. I just ran into the good doctor in the hallway, so I thought I’d swing by first. I have a meeting in a few minutes, so let me first introduce myself. My name is Eldin Mulder from the Logynous company.”

“Nice to meet—” Jennifer was cut off by another knock on the door, followed by the sound of a cart rolling into the room.

A woman dressed in a white coat with a big kettle on a cart appeared.

“Good afternoon,” the woman said. “Can I interest you in a bowl of soup?”

“What kind of soup is it?” Jennifer asked.

“Chicken soup,” the woman replied.

Chapter 13 – B&N’s Hideaway

Mount Graham, AZ, The Present

After an hour’s drive downhill through the Sonoran Desert, De Cremonese and Gavino drove Route 366, passing the Vatt base camp directly opposite of the Federal Correctional Institution. After sixty minutes of sand and shrubs, the scenery showed signs of human life. Within minutes, they passed the Mount Graham Market, the only supermarket for miles.

“Almost there.” Gavino pointed right as they neared the crossing with U.S. Highway 191. Just before the intersection, Gavino steered the car to the right onto the curb and parked in front of a small building—beaten by the seasons—with a sign that read, “B&N’s Hideaway Bar and Grill.”

“Nothing around here ever changes,” De Cremonese determined as they got out of the car and walked to the entrance. As they opened the door, a loud bell sounded through the room. The place was empty except for a man sitting at the end of the long bar. On three sides of the room, empty rows of tables topped with bottles of ketchup and plastic chairs flanked the pool table in the center. Neon lit Budweiser signs decorated the walls, alternated by army section flags and mirrors with beer labels printed on them. Behind the bar and along the walls, as many as eight televisions aired sports and news programs. “Every game, every Sunday, right here,” a sign read.

“Good day, fathers.” A tall blonde woman emerged from behind the bar. “I’m Meredith. You want a table?”

“Yes, please,” De Cremonese replied.

“Just pick the one you like.” She waved her arm across the room. “What can I get you to drink?”

“A beer, please,” De Cremonese answered.

“What kind? We have Bud draught—”

“That’s fine,” De Cremonese interrupted her.

“Me too,” Gavino replied, and she quickly took off. “I always wonder how people know we’re in the service of the Lord when we dress in plain clothes.”

“People have an instinct for that.” De Cremonese grinned. “Especially in these neighborhoods. And besides that, out here people know people. Only a few hundred people live on the two-hundred-mile stretch.”

They found a table in the corner of the cafe. Gavino sat below a television tuned to CNN. Next to him hung a remote from a rope on the wall, and while De Cremonese faced the TV, Gavino turned down the volume.

“Oh, sorry,” he excused himself when he noticed De Cremonese was watching the screen.

“No, of course, no problem. I don’t watch much television myself, and I guess this is the problem with them. Once you have one, you’ll watch it,” he smiled. “You can turn it off.”

“If only.” Gavino looked at the remote with the missing power button.

“Here you go.” Meredith placed two beers on the table. “You also want something to eat?”

“Yes, please,” De Cremonese said, and she quickly took two pieces