A New PastChapter 23 Into the Breech
“You’re kidding me, right?” I asked as Alison closed the folder before her. We had determined the U.S. Government was not likely behind the attack on me, and had returned to Stanford by Wednesday the week after the attack. For the past two weeks, Jeryl and I had had a constant companion from Alison’s team with us: to and from the house, on campus, in classes, outside our offices. It was starting to wear on our nerves. “No, I’m quite serious.” “The French?” “They might have had ties to...