Modified - Part 2 The meeting finishes quickly, and soon I'm back in the corridor. As I walk back to my office, a young Asian man stops me. 'Excuse me,' he says, 'are you Professor Renn?' 'Yes, I am,' I say, annoyed at having my thoughts interrupted. 'Good. I gave doctor Stephenson a memory stick, and she told me to give it to you. It's my epilepsy research. Can you review it?' 'Sure,' I say. 'Oh, thank you, sir. I actually left it in your lab, so I don't have it. Is that ok?' 'Er... yes, fine.' the young man talks incredibly quickly. It's extremely distracting. I thank him and leave. Soon I'm in my office. In a hurry, I stuff my laptop in my bag. I swipe the memory stick - the Asian student must have put it on the wrong desk, because it isn't on mine - and go home. An hour later, back at the university, a man walks into an office. There are three desks, a lot of papers, a printer and some photos of the scientists' family on the walls. He ignores these and goes to the middle desk. He searches for something for several minutes, then curses; he hasn't found it. He turns to leave, but as he does, he spots something that stops him in his tracks. He's seen a memory stick, just what he was looking for, but it's the wrong one and on the wrong desk. It's on the desk of Jason Renn. I open up my laptop, sigh, and insert the memory stick. But when I open the file, all I find is video files. Confused, I click on one, then yelp and jump in the air. The video is of a prison cell, being filmed by a camera in the top corner of the room. In the cell sits a solitary man of about eighteen. His clothes are ragged and filthy. But he's sat perfectly still, cross-legged, with no visible signs of injury. Out of sight, a door opens and an older man enters. The sitting youth opens his eyes for the first time. Instantly he's up and has a hold of the other man's lapel. As if he weighs nothing, the boy flings him across the cell. The man crumples against a wall and falls to the ground. The youth darts over to him and starts pummelling him. Then he stops and falls to the ground; he looks like he's trying to block his ears of a deafening sound. The other man, who doesn't seem to be able to hear the sound, makes a break for the door. The boy suddenly stops rolling on the ground. Instead, he focuses on what must be the source of the noise: the camera. He takes two steps' run up and jumps. The camera's got to be at least four feet above his head. But he still wrenches it from the wall, and the last thing the camera sees is his livid face, and a glimpse of his yellow eyes. This can only be what they talked about in the meeting I gatecrashed.