PIA KEPT THE car horn pressed. She had planned on doing it for five minutes, and it was now approaching that point. Coming to Berman’s house had been a sudden, impulsive decision born out of desperation and frustration. She had tried the same trick four days earlier without success, after failing in her attempt to get into her lab, but she thought things might be different tonight. She had no idea whether he was in Boulder or not, as he hadn’t returned any of her calls, texts, or emails, just like Mariel, but Paul had said that he thought he was in town, thanks to a tip from a friend who worked in general aviation at the airport. The report was that at least the Nano jet had returned. Whether Berman had been on it was anybody’s guess.

When she had first arrived at the gate at the base of his driveway, she’d been encouraged seeing lights in the distant house, even though that was no guarantee he was there, and even if there, that he’d be willing to see her. Nonetheless, she was going to be persistent, as Berman was her last shot. She knew it was unrealistic to hope to solve both her problems—her lack of access to her lab and her need for answers about what was going on behind the scenes at Nano. And Pia was realistic enough to understand that continuing her employment at Nano might well be an untenable proposition. But her desire to find out more still burned, and Berman was her only hope.

Pia had debated a long time about what to wear for this occasion, in case she actually got to see the missing CEO. Her black dress seemed inappropriate for an impromptu visit, even though it might be what Berman wanted to see. She thought it better to look casual, as if she were just dropping by. In the end, from her hardly extensive wardrobe, she picked a pair of skinny jeans and an embroidered, tailored black shirt that she thought flattered her athletic figure. Her hair looked reasonable pulled back in a ponytail that masked the six-week-old shaved spot. More bothersome were the gauntlet cast for her distal radial fracture and the sling for the break in her humerus, but there was nothing to be done about them until the following Wednesday, when they were scheduled to come off.

Suddenly the massive wrought-iron gate shuddered, and then with a screech of metal on metal it began to swing open. Pia let up on the horn, allowing the nightscape to return in a rush to its previous silence. Pia’s ears were ringing from the harsh clamor. For a second she hesitated. Not fully recuperated from her accident, she knew she wasn’t in fighting form and therefore felt more vulnerable. But her determination trumped any reservations. She put the car in gear, passed through the gate, and motored up the long serpentine drive.