that Cormac had confused Operation Bookworm with Operation
Metal Octopus, and we had been flown to Serbia instead of Prague. He said it would
take a couple of days to straighten everything out, and gave
us an envelope containing one hundred hundred-dollar bills to kill time in
D.C. He winked: Well contact you again in a few days. Until
then, have a good time on Uncle. Think of it as
an NEA grant. He said that our new contact
went by the name of Mark Twain. Twain, he said, would be in
touch soon enough. He reminded us not to write about what we had seen
in Serbia. Of course not, William lied, we write straight
A year later, looking back on this, I began
to wonder whether Williams bungie-jumping accident
had, in fact, been an accident. And Dirks assassination?
We werent sure where to have fun in D.C. We tried
to look up Marion Barry, but he was unlisted.
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