Sender: savant-net

Subject: Savant Net Conference

1500, 3 January, 700 14th St, Denver, CO 80202, United States.

I twirled the half empty bottle of water in my hands. Turning the ice to chill my palms every other revolution. Slouching low in my seat, I tuned out the speaker; Diamond something-or-other... Aching muscles and drooping eyes meant my attention was far from the front on the room; more like the springy mattress back at the hotel.

Now there's an idea.

I shifted uncomfortably. Not quite believing I spent twenty hours on a plane here, just to listen to someone speak. Wishing I'd taken my colleague Amanda's advice for taking an earlier flight to get here two days early; sourly imagining her smirking and saying, I told you so. I closed my tired eyes and reached out with my mind to see just how long this thing was going to last.

Numbers and figures swirled around my exhausted brain like a washing machine. Everything clouded with suds and blurry with water. Four digits stood out like the red sock in the load of whites. 06:50.

They flashed like my alarm clock did in the morning. Impatient and angry. Groaning inwardly, I opened my eyes. Glaring at my bottle of water; I considered drinking it. Thing was, I didn't know if I could hold it that long. But it was so hot in here.

Cracking the top open, I took a sip. The cool liquid flowing down my parched throat and clearing my sleepy sensation ever so slightly. Not enough to allow me to remember a word the speaker was saying, but enough for me to actually think straight.

The chairs in the conference hall really weren't designed for comfort. Which, in all honesty is so stupid. People have to sit in these chairs for hours at a time, I think it would be much appreciated if your arse didn't get pins and needles half way through. I'm already feeling gatvol.

The speaker changed to a young lanky man with wiry arm muscles under the sweater he was wearing. His hispanic looks didn't match the blond highlights his hair glinted with. With high cheekbones and sharp jaw, he really didn't need any help in the looks department.

I flicked through the programme someone had given me on the way in, I was too tired to remember. Deciphering the name to read, Uriel Benedict. I should have known. The Benedicts' were one of the most important pieces of the Savant Net. They swept up the big criminals whilst people like me just cracked the safe aforementioned criminals had stashed their supply of Class A drugs, or the imported gold bricks that had been stolen six months earlier on a different continent or hemisphere.

I saw some of the females in the room sit up a little straighter, of course they would. One of the three Benedict brothers that didn't have a soulfinder and they'd jump at the chance. After twenty-seven years of life, to me; the term soulfinder, only existed in fairy tales.

The only reason I was here was to get out of working the week. I'd done six weeks of cracking vaults and tracking phone numbers and finding serial numbers on counterfeit cash; without so much as a night off. So when I got the email, I got on the plane with the pre-payed ticket and my suitcase.

Twenty nine minutes and forty-eight seconds remained until the break. Break meant food, break meant sleep, break meant bathroom. And I was getting desperate for all three.

Cracking my neck, I counted down the seconds with every tap my rubber soles made on the floor. I got even more impatient with every second. Someone's gift in the room was trying to calm me down, I could feel it. They were sat in chair 28G. Where ever that was.

Usually, I'm at rapt attention to these things, but today I was tired, I was hungry and my head was starting to ache, so all thoughts of concentration were out the window. All I could concentrate on were those painful seconds that continued to crawl by.

The water in my bottle was warm now. And that fact alone built my annoyance level up by several inches. Ten minutes and sixteen seconds.

I wonder if they're serving food? January is freezing in Colorado, I really didn't want to walk far to find food.

Nine minutes.

Coffee. Hot coffee would be great right now. Burning, black and bitter, just like I am now...

Eight minutes.

And Bagels. Toasted bagels. With cream-cheese... And onions... Ooh I love bagels and cream cheese...

Seven minutes.

I wonder if they sell koeksisters here? It's been ages since I've had one of those. Amanda used to bring them back from her lunch break and we'd eat them when they were still warm and gooey. She stopped doing that when she went on a diet. I didn't have the guts to eat one in front of her and the bakery that sells them moved a further twenty blocks from the offices.

Five minutes.

Come on... Come on... Come on...

"...and we're scheduled for a break, now." Benedict finished and I scrambled to my feet, shouldering my bag, I was out the door, snatching a cheese sandwich from a tray and pulling my jacket on. The weather outside looking cold.

"Cleo?"

I turned on my heel to see the crop of ginger hair belonging to Peter Brook. The scowl I'd been wearing disappeared. "Peter, hi." I sighed and pushed my headband back, holding my dark curls in place.

"I didn't know you were coming today."

"Yeah, well, I kinda wished I didn't, I haven't slept in over twenty four hours. I'm running on fumes."

"Definitely running, you didn't look to be able to get out of there fast enough." he chuckled quietly.

I forced a smile. "Look, Peter, it's good to see you and everything..."

"But you're about to pass out on the spot so you should probably get some rest." two very tall people joined Peter, one I recognised as his sister Crystal, the other looked like one of the Benedict brothers. It made me feel less awkward being six foot tall.

"I don't need telling twice!" I threw my hands up and stalked off towards the doors. The cold air hit me hard, a refreshing slap across the face that would keep me awake until I reached the hotel.

My feet were frozen as I walked down the snow covered streets, the warm hotel lobby made me smile. Up in my room, I kicked off my shoes and changed into my old green rugby shirt and sunshine yellow shorts. Diving under the covers, I was asleep in seconds.

Note that the words: Koeksisters and gatvol are South African slang and aren't just spelling mistakes.