“To Nano, and all who sail in her,” he said, and laughed at his own little joke.

“To Nano,” said Pia, “and its continued success.”

“Our continued success. We’re in this together. And we’ll all share in the good times when everything we are working for comes to fruition. Mariel continues to tell me your experiments are going well.”

“Yes, they are,” said Pia, happy to be talking about work. She relayed that there had been no signs of any immunological reaction up until almost five o’clock that afternoon with the microbivores containing the polyethylene glycol molecules incorporated into their surfaces. “If this continues, we could be looking at starting mammalian experiments in the near future.”

“Fabulous!” he said, standing. “Let me top you up.” He indicated Pia’s glass.

“I am driving, Mr. Berman, but don’t let me inhibit you.”

“Call me Zach, please! When we’re out of the office, particularly here in my castle, I prefer you call me by my given name. And don’t worry about driving. I’ll have someone come up from the motor pool if necessary.” He smiled that same unctuous smile that Pia found so nauseating. She stood up.

“Perhaps we should go ahead and eat. If the food’s in the oven, we should not let it wait. I’d hate for it to dry up, whatever it is. The food was lovely on Monday night, and I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”

“Do you cook in your apartment?”

“Never. I’m too busy with what Mariel and I are doing in the lab.”

“Then it sounds like you don’t like the food at the cafeteria?”

“It’s fine. I just prefer yours.”

“Well, that’s good. I do, too. Come through to the dining room. I won’t be a second.” Berman walked toward the kitchen and kept talking, his voice echoing throughout the cavernous spaces of his house.

“I enjoy serving dinner to my guests,” he shouted from the kitchen. “It reminds me of a time when I didn’t have staff to help. They make me nervous sometimes, fussing around me. This is much more relaxed.”

That’s right, thought Pia, you’re just a regular guy at heart.

“Anything I can do to help?” Pia shouted.

“Stay right there,” Berman yelled back. He emerged from the kitchen with a tray. He gave Pia a bowl of steaming soup and offered freshly milled black pepper from an oversize grinder.

“Smells heavenly,” said Pia.

“Vegetarian pea soup, with a lot of mint from my herb garden. And a dollop of crème fraîche. You can’t beat it. Bon appétit!”

Pia had to admit the soup was lovely: fresh and delicate, highlighted nicely by the fragrant pepper. She would have enjoyed it more if she weren’t so nervous.