Damage Control
Chapter One
Redmond, Washington
Dr. Frank Pilgrim adjusted the flexible lamp clipped to the edge of his
cluttered metal desk, but the additional illumination did not keep the
typewritten words on the page from blurring. He set his wire-framed glasses
above his bushy gray eyebrows and pinched the bridge of his nose. His eyes had
reached their limit; they could no longer take the strain of a night reading
small print.
Pilgrim glanced across the room, the details a blur. It wasn't
too long ago he could watch the television screen atop the military- green
filing cabinets without glasses. Now he could barely
make out the cabinets, even with prescription help. His cataracts
were getting worse. It didn't matter. With all the reality-TV
crap being broadcast, he had long since relegated the television
to background noise. It kept him company at night. He liked to
listen to the Mariner baseball games, though the team continued
to disappoint him. At seventy-eight, he didn't have many
years left to experience a World Series in Seattle.
The telephone on his desk rang at precisely ten p.m, as it
had every ... read full excerpt from Damage Control ebook
