face of Dr. Clyde Horn. She recognized him instantly partially due to his shiny bald pate.
As Sheila's eyes locked onto Dr. Horn's his face twisted into a great smile. Sheila blinked, and when she opened her eyes, Dr. Horn was gone. Sheila closed her eyes again. Was she hallucinating from exhaustion and tension? She wasn't sure, but the image of Dr. Horn's face brought back the memory of him leaving her office with Dr. Halprin. As clearly as if it had been an hour previously, she could hear Dr. Halprin saying: 'I've even got something I want you to take back to Atlanta for me. Something I think that will interest the CDC.'
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.
'Exactly that,' Beau said. 'It is born out of the need to take seriously the stewardship of this planet. Human beings have been doing a terrible job up until now as witnessed by pollution, destruction of ecosystems, constant strife, and warfare. The situation necessitates a change, or, if you will, a new beginning, and the institute will be the agent for that change.'
The skeptical reporter smiled wryly. 'Such practiced rhetoric,' he commented. 'It certainly sounds highfalutin, maybe even true, at least the part about the mess humans have made of the world. But the idea of an institute accomplishing this out here in an isolated mansion is ludicrous. This whole operation with all these brainwashed people strikes me more as a cult than anything else.'
Beau fixed the skeptical reporter with his eyes and his pupils dilated maximally. He walked toward the man, oblivious to the people who were blocking his path. Most stepped aside, a few Beau pushed. He didn't shove them hard but rather eased them out of the way.
Beau reached the reporter who defiantly returned Beau's stare. The whole group of journalists went silent as they watched the confrontation. Beau resisted the temptation to reach out, grab the individual, and demand he show proper respect. Instead Beau decided he would bring this contumacious individual back to the institute and infect him.
But then Beau thought it might be easier to infect them all. He'd just give them each a parting gift of a black disc.
'Excuse me, Beau!' an attractive young woman called who'd just arrived. Her name was Veronica Paterson. She'd ran down from the chateau and was out of breath. She was clothed in an alluring one-piece spandex outfit that appeared as if it had been sprayed on her lithe and shapely body. The male reporters in particular were intrigued.
She pulled Beau away from the group so she could tell him in private that there was an important telephone call for him up at the institute.
'Do you think you can handle these reporters?' Beau asked her.
'Most certainly,' Veronica said.
'They are not to go inside,' Beau said.
'Of course not,' Veronica said.
'And they're to leave with gifts,' Beau said. 'Give them all black discs. Tell them that it is our emblem.'
Veronica smiled. 'I like that,' she said.
'Excuse me, everybody!' Beau called out to the crowd of reporters. 'I must leave unexpectedly, but I'm sure I will be seeing each of you again. Miss Paterson will be available for your remaining questions. She will also be
