Dara
Jensen looked up from that morning’s edition of the Port Charles Herald.Her host, Stefan Cassadine, stood in the doorway looking elegantly
athletic.
Elegantly
athletic.Not two words that Dara
would have normally associated with one another.But she could not think of a better description of the man before her.“Good morning,” she replied.Efficiently
Dara folded up the newspaper.“I was just catching up on the night’s happenings in Port
Charles.”
Stefan
nodded thoughtfully.“In that case, allow me to direct your attention to an
article in section five.Page
twelve,” he qualified.In silence
he watched the curious young attorney flip through the local paper.“It is an innocuous paragraph to most, but of immense importance to
others.”
Dara
located the straightforward two-line accident report buried in the middle of the
page.“In the early morning
hours,” she read aloud, “a tractor-trailer rig suffered a blowout and
overturned.The rig, carrying a
cargo of hazardous materials, was removed from the highway by federal agents who
seized the cargo until an investigation of the materials’ origin can be
conducted.”
“The
true nature of the truck’s cargo was not hazardous material,” Stefan
explained when Dara turned to him in confusion.“It was filled with contraband drugs and items originating from Puerto
Rico.”
Almost
immediately, realization dawned for the sharp young attorney.“Sonny!”
“Yes.Mister Corinthos and his organization are now without a quite valuable
shipment.”
Dara
smiled with genuine pleasure at the thought of the organization’s loss.“And unless I am mistaken, they are also without anyone to blame for
the shipment’s loss.”
Stefan
was impressed anew by Dara’s quick and intuitive reasoning.“This is true.Although
the tractor-trailer was assisted in its accident, no evidence of such exists.For Mister Corinthos and his associates, suspicion of foul play
will remain their only recourse.”
