The Bilderberger Conspiracy
The boy smiled with a confidence look this time, and thensaid, “He said that if I put that envelope in your hands, he’ll giveme twenty dollars as I told you before. Did I do somethingwrong?”“No, I’m just curious . . . Was he young, old, youknow . . .”The intern gave a thought to the image he has of the manwith the envelope in his head, and then said, “Early thirties or latetwenties, he looked Secret Service, if you ask me.”Michael glanced at the boy, he was too young to be incollege, and he calculated that this kid was some sixteen or seventeen years old, “What’s your name?” Michael asked, “Andhow old are you?”“Me? I’m Corey . . . Corey Lewis, I’m twenty, and I go toG W U, Journalism School.”Michael saw something of himself in this boy, he recalledthat he too interned for the Globe in Boston and he spent onesummer in their mail room. So after a couple of seconds, he said,“Are you busied now?”“No sir. Why?”“Drive me to Union Station . . .”“Yes Sir.”“Corey, I’m twenty-nine, not much older than you, call meMike.”“OK, Mike,” Corey’s excitement showed.“Corey, get your car. I’ll wait for you in front of the building,” Michael said.