Dr. Alberto Casa was a very busy man, and he didn't always have time to read the newspapers.  It was fortunate that he was between assignments at the time -- fortunate, or perhaps just fate, not that he knew enough to believe in any such thing.<br/><br/>And of course he couldn't be sure of the message's source.  But ignoring it certainly wasn't an option.  Passing up the best chance he'd seen to fill in the gaps of his strange memories was practically unthinkable, no matter how awkward it was explaining to family and colleagues where he was headed.<br/><br/>The tall Spaniard was dressed more or less casually, but also neatly enough -- a white polo shirt, khaki slacks, brown shoes, facial hair neatly trimmed -- compared to how he often ended up in the field.  His medical bag was slung over one shoulder as he walked into the hotel, glancing around before following the signs.  Alberto straightened up as he entered the meeting room, clearing his throat politely.  "Pardon me.  I hope I'm not interrupting...?"