“You’re very calm about all this,” said Paul.

“I think we learned a lot just now. Someone is following us, right? It has to be Nano. If Pia wasn’t right about there being a conspiracy going on there, why would they bother?”

“So you have a plan for what we should do next?”

“No. But we need help.”

“Obviously. But who’s going to help us?”

“I don’t know, Paul, I really don’t.”

Chapter 55

55.

THE OLD VICARAGE, CHENIES, U.K.

THURSDAY, JULY 25, 2013, 2:10 P.M. BST

Pia felt as if she were swimming in molasses. Without another sedative injection, it had taken her an age to fall asleep, but once she did, she fell hard. It was obvious to her that she still had some of the drug on board. As she slowly awoke, Pia wondered how much time she had lost. She hadn’t seen Berman since he had left her in the underground cell after making his big speech about nanotechnology. It was impossible to keep track of time. She had been denied the usual diurnal cycle; the light in the room was always on. When was it that she saw Berman? Yesterday? Last week? It might have been last year, for all she knew. Pia’s head was throbbing and her vision was blurry. She felt terrible, but she had to try to focus on what was happening to her.

However much time had passed, Pia hadn’t had much of an opportunity to think about her situation because of the drugs she’d been given, but now, as she passed through her mind whatever details she could recall, she came to an understanding. Berman had told her too much for her release to be a viable proposition. Her position was extremely precarious. She’d have to submit to Berman or face the consequences.

It took only seconds for Pia to look around her room. An IV ran to a bag that hung on a plastic drip stand for hydration. There was nothing else she could use as a weapon, even if she could reach it, as she was still loosely restrained.

As Pia tried to clear her head a little, a slot in the door that she hadn’t noticed opened, and then closed quickly. The lock on the door was activated and the doctor came back in. Pia sat up, ready to fight him again.

“I come to look at your arm. They want you healthy.” The man avoided making eye contact with Pia.

“So you do speak English. They want me healthy for what? What do they plan to do with me? And who are ‘they’? If you are a doctor, you have an obligation to help me.”

The door swung open and a powerful-looking guard came in, closed the door, and silently faced forward, an intimidating presence.

“Where is Berman, the American . . . ?”

“You cannot talk, miss.”