1st August
Robin, Paul and Angela sat at a small table in the West Wing refectory in the White House. Robert had returned to London that morning.
‘Well,’ said Robin, ‘the refectory has run out of blueberry muffins because of a power failure to two of the ovens at three o’clock this morning.’
‘Magic Dust certainly produces prescient dreams,’ Paul concluded. ‘Yesterday, I correctly predicted that the lift outside my room would stop working at half past four in the afternoon, and today, Robin was right on top of the blueberry muffin issue.’ He paused. ‘Useful though that information is, however, it would have been better to dream about the location of Dean Hemmingway or the identity of the Pentagon WAR operative.’
‘That drug isn’t quite as remarkable as we first hoped,’ said Angela. ‘I guess everyone has dreams that come true sometimes. That phenomenon has been documented throughout history. Magic Dust seems to enhance that effect, but what you dream about seems totally random.’
She passed to Robin the precautionary bag of blueberry muffins that she had bought at a local shop following an earlier account of his dream. ‘It’s only Paul and Robin who’ve tried it so far,’ Angela continued. ‘Perhaps we should all take some every night from now on to increase the chances of something useful being revealed. There’s no evidence that it has harmful effects.’
‘It’s not hurt anyone who’s taken it,’ Paul said, ‘and that includes Wolfgang Rouse who seemed to have been taking it for nearly sixty years.’
‘It would be too risky to try on the president,’ Angela concluded, ‘but Elliot and Maria might agree to be involved too.’
At that moment, Elliot hurried into the refectory and rushed over to them. ‘Have you seen Maria?’ he asked in a worried tone.
‘Not today,’ Paul replied. ‘Is there a problem?’
‘I’ve just checked my mobile,’ Elliot replied. ‘She sent me a message just before three o’clock this morning. It just said: I may have located H. Now she’s vanished!’