“I guess it makes sense,” said Paul, and they drove off toward Boulder.

“I don’t think we are going to find anything out at Nano. They are extremely security conscious.”

“We have to cover the bases,” said George. He sounded more decisive than Paul remembered. “Perhaps they don’t know what car she was driving. Anyway, if we strike out at Nano, we’ll go by her apartment again.”

“Security would have noted what car she arrived in . . .”

“Okay,” said George, raising his voice. “I know. But we have to look.”

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Neither man thought it would be easy to get past the first security gate on the road into Nano, and both were right.

“We’re here for a job interview,” said George, talking past Paul, trying a line he had thought up on the way over on the first line of security at a gatepost by the main entrance to Nano.

“There are no interviews scheduled for today,” said the guard, an efficient-looking older man. “They always let me know to be prepared for people who need temporary ID, and there’s none today.”

“It’s unofficial. An informational interview with Whitney Jones, in Mr. Berman’s office.”

“I know for a fact that Whitney Jones is not here today. Can I see your driver’s license, sir.”

“What do you need that for?”

“Everyone who comes in here has to show ID. And you, too, sir,” the guard said to Paul.

Paul and George looked at each other. If they showed their ID, Nano would know they had been here. If they didn’t, they’d be turned away immediately. George shrugged and dug his license out of his wallet. Paul followed suit. The guard retreated into his small cabin and picked up a phone. A line of cars had formed behind Paul and a couple of impatient drivers were honking at him.

“Look, George, we should take this to the police,” said Paul.

“It might not hurt to let Berman know we’re around.”

Paul said nothing. The guard put down the phone.

“Pull in over there,” he said, indicating a cut-out to the right of the guard post. He handed over the driver’s licenses. As soon as Paul parked, a black SUV drove up and a man in a suit got out of the passenger side.

“Can I help you fellas?” He was younger than the gatepost guard, fitter, more athletic, and much more intimidating, despite his smile and casual syntax.

“We’re here for an interview,” said Paul.

“There’s no interviews today, Dr. Caldwell.” The man knew exactly who Paul was. “Better check your calendar, I think you got the wrong day. You can drive out through the same gate.” He indicated the same guard post, where the exit barrier was now raised. The security man had one more thing to say.

“Have an excellent day, gentlemen.”

Chapter 51

51.