“So where are you from?” he asked. His eyes narrowed and head tilted, as if he were about to make a guess. Such a situation was not uncommon for Pia. Many people, particularly men, tried to guess her genealogy from her appearance, usually coming up with such suggestions as Greek, Lebanese, or even Iranian, but she wasn’t going to play the game with this guy even though he’d been correct about her name. Her father was indeed Albanian, although her mother was Italian.

“I’m American,” Pia said. “Hurry up with what you’re doing! I’m going to need my office sooner rather than later.”

“And what do you do?” Goslin asked, vainly trying to keep the conversation going.

Pia didn’t answer. She walked out of the room, pausing only to pick out a couple of files she thought she might need.

To the surprise of the lab technicians, who had moved from the coffee nook to their respective individual benches, Rothman suddenly emerged from the biosafety unit. This was a surprise because everyone expected that he would be closeted in there for the day, as had been the case for the last several weeks. As a stickler for rules, he had gone through the airlock and removed his protective lab garb and donned his street clothes. Without a lab coat on, he resembled a gentleman banker more than a research scientist coming from working with extraordinarily deadly typhoid-causing salmonella. Although asocial to a fault, he was a careful dresser, a disconnect as it suggested he cared what other people thought. But he didn’t. The clothes were purely for him and the ensemble was the same day after day: conservative three-button Italian suit, pressed white shirt, dark blue tie with matching pocket square, and black penny loafers. He was not a tall man, but he projected well and appeared taller than he was. Moving quickly, he was an intimidating figure with martially erect posture and an expression that did not encourage conversation. His dark brown hair was cut conservatively to match his suit. His almost invisible rimless titanium glasses were his only concession to current fashion.

As Rothman strode toward his private office, the eyes of the technicians followed him. It was immediately apparent to all of them what had brought Rothman out of the biosafety unit. Catching sight of Pia, he had motioned for her to follow him. As the office door closed, the lab technicians exchanged knowing looks with a tinge of collective jealousy. All of them knew that with the pressure of the upcoming Lancet article, Rothman would never have left the biosafety unit specifically to talk to them. In their minds Pia was a kind of teacher’s pet made worse by her not being all that friendly. Similar to Rothman, she was always too busy for small talk and kept to herself. On top of that, they all thought she was a bit too good-looking to be a medical student and thought captiously she would have been better suited to playing one on TV. Pia was an enigma to the laboratory staff, made more interesting by the gossip that had it she was going to be a nun.