Doa 061 -

But the mouse remained clutched in his hand, defiant. Its severed cord twitched in a sudden gust of wind, and for a mad half-second, Lena could have sworn it was trying to point somewhere.

She dialed.

Lena walked back toward the tape, her reflection a wavering ghost in the oily puddles. doa 061

"Meet John Doe," said Dr. Aris Thorne, the coroner, without looking up. He was a small, precise man who treated death with the same affectionate fussiness a watchmaker might afford a broken chronograph. "Or, as I've labeled him in the system, DOA 061." But the mouse remained clutched in his hand, defiant

She turned to Thorne. "Bag the mouse separately. And don't let anyone from Cephalon within a hundred yards of this body. If anyone asks, DOA 061 is a John Doe with a heart condition." Lena walked back toward the tape, her reflection

And their stock had tripled in the last month.

Three rings. A click. A voice like gravel and old whiskey.