That Ellen asked Fern to see if Brad West was available to stop by instead of emailing him or calling his cell phone, was a message that spent five hours repeating coffee orders aloud to a Barista, two hours picking up her son from school, and fifteen more hours (including that time Fern was dreaming) until Brad walked into the coffee shop on October 12, 2010 and poured a cup of coffee-coffee into a 12 oz paper cup. He put a plastic lid on it and held out three dollars to Fern. "$1.80."

"Thanks." He turned toward the door. He's been trying to stop saying, "Keep it." It sounds like Dean Martin, like he ought to wink, shoot her with his finger.If that's an exaggeration, then the whole idea of seeing the same person every day and by stupid habit telling that person, "surprise, I'm giving you extra money today." still worried him. He said it because when he doesn't say it, someone is yelling to him, "Sir, Sir, your change, Sir." It just comes out. He could be handing his money to a nine foot Polar Bear and the moment it growled, he would automatically say, "Keep it." Everyone says it and Fern doesn't care.

"Ellen says to stop by." He looked back at Fern. A person had said something to him, and that person had drawn a connection between them and someone else, and he was about to say something, when he didn't. He nodded his head, put his left hand back on top of the coffee cup, and turned again to walk away.

The man standing behind Brad said he didn't hear what the cashier said, and that when Brad turned around the second time "He wasn't watching where he was going." That's how it got as far as Brad ending up at the Federal Reserve Bank, waiting for the ok to see Ellen Seiler. It's happened like this a lot of the times. The Security man reached into the drawer, "take this pass." He was new. Didn't act new. The formalities of seeing Ellen were previously handled by a curly haired man who's lack of personal interaction was to Brad the highest tribute, or the round man with short black hair who's a Yankees fan. These were the Security men Brad knew. They must have been out.

He passed two more people he didn't recognize on the way to Ellen's office. He wouldn't have recognized them because they didn't work for the Reserve. Ellen put her keys in her handbag. Her handbag had her wallet in it. Her wallet had her mother's address and phone. She thought about all those things before Brad walked in. She put her finger to her lips as soon as he saw her. She pointed down at her desk. Brad walked towards her. She wasn't kidding. He kept quiet. She opened her desk drawer and removed an interoffice envelope. He opened it, looked inside, then pulled the contents onto the desk. There was a tracking sheet. It was recorded in the print log. Four were printed at three different times. Standard tracking sheet; date, time, bank, amount.

Also in the envelope was a second plastic envelope and a $10 bill.

When Brad looked at it, knowing something must be wrong with it, his eyes fell into it, into the oddity that it was, into a contradiction he wanted to pull from the plastic and hold to the light. He couldn't look back up at Ellen. He was afraid he would say something. Again and again, there's no trail to follow after that. Brad West was apprehended a dozen times outside Ellen's door. Ellen's detentions, searches of the office, attempts to disrupt the meeting, have all failed to recover the Series 2058a.