Daniel's reaction to the question was something like a flinch, but slower, and involving most of his body. He pulled away as much as he could, gaping, looking unsettled to the core. His stare was focused on the older man's face.

How is it possible that he is aware -- ? This raised a number of questions. The most logical conclusion was that Hunt was, in some way, planted: by Quentin Laurier, to watch over Daniel, or by the police, maybe Interpol, because his actions in Tokyo had landed him in even hotter water than he'd realized.

Another theory came to mind, then, one less paranoid and alarming: Lunge. Daniel had noticed, in his few days in the Institute, that the patients who had been involved in law enforcement tended to band together. It didn't matter whether or not that "involvement" was illusory. Although Lunge hadn't mentioned Hunt, the message that had been exchanged on the bulletin board earlier in the day suggested that they had met -- "inspecteur to inspektor." Might he be -- ? He tucked the question away for later.

As these thoughts flew through his mind, his shocked expression didn't fade. Finding his voice, but not much of it, he murmured, "How do you know that name?"