The Fog of Dreams Page 8
by Justin Bell
CHAPTER THREE
Washington, DC.
Tristan Davies held up a questioning hand, a dubious look drifting over his face.
"Wait? he ran eight miles? in twenty minutes?"
Agent Grace halted his speaking mid-sentence and fought to keep the twinge of annoyance out of his voice. "Yes."
"That's not possible."
Senior Director McKie held out an explaining hand. "So you're starting to understand the implications of this project?"
Davies scowled, just a little, more in surprise than anger. McKie turned back to Agent Grace.
"Please continue. We need to hear everything."