"I'll just get my things packed," I said, "and we'll take off—just you and me—a couple of man-made geniuses on the run."
I had the bellhop put the bags and the tape-recorder into a waiting taxi, paid my hotel bill,
and walked out the revolving door with the object of the search nestling in my jacket pocket.
I used my return-flight ticket to New York. Instead of going back to my place, I plan to stay at a hotel here in the city for one or two nights.
We'll use that as a base of operations while I look for a furnished apartment, somewhere midtown.
I want to be near Times Square. Talking all this out makes me feel a lot better—even a little silly.
I don't really know why I got so upset, or what I'm doing on a jet heading back to New York with Algernon in a shoebox under the seat.
I mustn't panic. The mistake doesn't necessarily mean anything serious.
It's just that things are not as definite as Nemur believed.
But where do I go from here? First, I've got to see my parents. As soon as I can.
I may not have all the time I thought I had...
PROGRESS REPORT 14 - June 15 - Our escape hit the papers yesterday, and the tabloids had a field day.
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