Invasion

Sheila's eyes blinked open. With sudden clairvoyance and absolute certitude she knew what Dr. Halprin had been referring to: a black disc. Sheila glanced at the CDC people in the room and it dawned on her with equivalent certitude that they were all infected. Instead of being interested in the epidemic in order to contain it, they were grilling Nancy and Eugene to find out how they had learned what they had.

Sheila stood up. She grabbed Nancy's arm and tugged. "Come on, Nancy. Time for us to get some rest."

Nancy pulled her arm free. She was surprised at the interruption. "We're finally making some progress here," she forcibly whispered.

"Eugene, we need a few hours of sleep," Sheila said. "You must understand even if Nancy doesn't."

"Is there something wrong, Dr. Miller?" Dr. Marchand asked.

"Not at all," Sheila said. "I just realized that we're exhausted, and that we shouldn't be taking your time until we've had some rest. We'll make a lot more sense after a little sleep. There's a Sheraton nearby. It will be best for everyone."

Sheila stepped up to Marchand's desk and reached for the report that she and the Sellerses had brought. Dr. Marchand put his hand on it. "If you don't mind, we'd like to peruse this while you're resting."

"That's fine," Sheila said agreeably. She backed away and tugged on Nancy's arm again.

"Sheila, I think ... " Nancy began but her eyes met Sheila's. She could see Sheila's intensity and resolve. Nancy stood up. It dawned on her Sheila knew something she didn't.

"Why don't we say we'll be back after lunch," Sheila offered. "Say between one and two o'clock."

"I think that will work for us," Dr. Marchand said. He looked at his department heads, and they all nodded.

Eugene crossed his legs. He'd not seen the unspoken communication between his wife and Sheila. "Maybe I'll stay here," he said.

"You are coming with us," Nancy said to Eugene, yanking him to his feet. Then she smiled at her hosts. They smiled back.

Sheila led the way out of Dr. Marchand's office. They passed through the secretarial area and down the pale, institutional green corridor.

At the elevators Eugene started to complain, but Nancy told him to stay quiet.

"At least until we get into the rental car," Sheila whispered.

They boarded the elevator and smiled at the occupants. They all smiled back and commented on how nice the weather was.

By the time they got to the car and climbed in, Eugene was mildly irritated.

"What's wrong with you women?" he said as he put the key in the ignition. "It took us an hour to get them interested and then poof, we have to go rest. This is crazy."

"They are all infected," Sheila said. "Every last one of them."

"Are you sure?" Eugene asked. He was aghast.

"Absolutely," Sheila said. "Not a doubt in my mind."

"I assume we're not going to the Sheraton," Nancy said.

"Hell no!" Sheila said. "Let's get to the airport. We're back to square one."

The reporters had gathered at the gate of the institute. Although they had not been invited, Beau had anticipated their coming, he just didn't know which day. When the young men at the gate had informed Beau they were there, Beau told the gatekeepers to hold them back for fifteen minutes to give Beau a chance to walk out to where the driveway entered the trees. Beau did not want any reporters in the ballroom, at least not yet.

When Beau confronted the group he was mildly surprised by the number. He'd expected ten or fifteen people. Instead there were around fifty. They were equally divided between newspaper, magazine, and TV. There were about ten TV cameras. Everyone had microphones.

"So here you see the new Institute for a New Beginning," Beau said, gesturing toward the chateau with a sweep of his hand.

"We understand that you are doing a lot of renovation in the building," a journalist said.

"I wouldn't say a lot," Beau said. "But yes, we are making a few changes to suit our needs."

"Can we see the interior?" a journalist asked.

"Not today," Beau said. "It would be too disruptive for the work that is being done."

"So we've come all the way out here for nothing," a journalist commented.

"I hardly think that is the case," Beau said. "You certainly, can see that the institute is a reality and not a mere figment of imagination."

"Is it true that all the assets of Cipher Software are now controlled by the Institute for a New Beginning?"

"Most," Beau said vaguely. "Perhaps you should direct that question to Mr. Randy Nile."

"We'd like to," a journalist said. "But he's not been available. I've been trying around the clock to get an appointment to interview him."

"I know he's busy," Beau said. "He has committed himself wholeheartedly to the goals of the institute. But I think I could convince him to talk to you people in the near future."

"What is this 'new beginning,' " a particularly skeptical journalist demanded.