DAY TWENTYNINE 9:34AM

The Enemy Of My Enemy

Here they were sitting in a restaurant sipping coffee, looking each other over. Seeing a reflection of what they might be or who they might become. 

"... so what you're saying is that what is happening isn't happening, but it has happened or will happen?" Simon replied. He looked at Max and shook his head; this fellow would be clinical. But, after what had happened this morning, he was going to do something that screamed against his training and judgement.

"Look at it this way," Max said, after extending a puff of smoke into the air. He seemed to study the swirling patterns as if they were showing him something. Simon thought he could see something as well, but thought better of it. Stay focused. 

"Let's say that I am making music," Max continued. "I am laying down some tracks, changing the tempo and signature. The groove is playing and we hear it. It's an original song we have here. Now, let's say another person comes along and takes my song and remixes it, takes out a track here, adds a track there, changes the signature and the key. It's my song, but it has his signature as well."

Max paused to take a sip of coffee. Simon kept an ear out on the news, nothing was being reported on, no incident whatsoever. 

If Max was right then this whole conspiracy thing was just a small piece of a huge puzzle.

Max continued, "Consider you and I just tracks in the groove. Where my beat is steady, but for some reason your tempo changes. The great DJ producer has something in store for you... it's like when you..." 

Max's cellphone rang. He picked it up right on the first chime. "Max here."