Chapter 4
Two weeks later, he’d been able to dispense with the ibuprofen, the sutures had dissolved, and he was going out of his mind with boredom.
When the phone rang, he didn’t wait for the answering machine to pick up. Even if it was telemarketers, it would be a break in the monotony of watching game shows, talk shows, and soap operas.
“Browne,” he said.
“You don’t have the excuse of being at death’s door this time, Browne.” It was Stanley, his director at Foreign Affairs. What was happening? His boss never called him at home. “Get your ass in here. We’ve got a shitload of paperwork that needs to be brought up to date and a dearth of people to do it.”
“Yes, sir.” He hated paperwork, but it was better than sitting at home, staring at four walls. “I’ll be right in.”
And since he was
