The Pinocchio Syndrome. David Zeman

really wasn’t the body, so much,’ she said weakly. ‘I’ve been on airplanes for the last three or four days. I’m jet-lagged.’

      He smiled indulgently. ‘Yes, that would do it too.’

      He revived her with water followed by strong coffee. He insisted that she remain lying on the couch. He was surprised to see her pursue her story even in her weakened state.

      ‘You reported this to the state health authorities?’ she asked.

      He nodded. ‘I copied my e-mail to the CDC in Atlanta. Nobody got back to me. Either they’re swamped, or it’s a bureaucratic thing. A snafu.’

      ‘I’d like to ask you to do me a favor,’ Karen said. ‘Can you keep a lid on this for another twenty-four hours while I check out a couple of things?’

      ‘Well, I don’t know,’ the doctor said. ‘We’re supposed to report anything out of the ordinary.’

      ‘You’ve already reported it,’ Karen said. ‘All I’m asking is that you sit tight for one day. There are people at the federal level who need to know about this.’