By way of reply, the nearest of the two visitors removed a small wallet from an interior breast pocket and flipped it open. Charlie and Dev stared at it. When the wallet’s owner felt they’d had sufficient time to assess the contents, he snapped it shut and returned it to its resting place. Dev responded.

“I’m Mukherjee. You couldn’t tell by looking at us?”

“We don’t work that way,” the other visitor said. He took a step forward. “We need you to come with us, Mr. Mukherjee.”

Someone released a couple of butterflies in Dev’s stomach. “Am I under arrest or something? Do I need to call my lawyer?”

“You’re not under arrest.” The second speaker made an effort to smile. It didn’t do much for the seriousness of his expression, Dev thought, but at least the man tried. “But we do need you to come with us.”

Far less reticent than his colleague, both due to his slightly pugnacious nature and also the fact that he wasn’t being asked to go anywhere, Charlie straightened in his chair and raised his voice.

“Why should he go with you anywhere? Because you flashed some Federal ID? Where are you taking him?” Attracted by the commotion, several other operatives tore their attention away from their monitors to look curiously in the direction of the confrontation.

Unhappy at the sudden attention, the first agent lowered his voice. “It’s a matter of national security. That’s all I can tell you. As for destination, we’re going to the Pentagon.”

Dev started slightly. “I’ll guess: this involves the alien craft?”

“National security. I can’t say anything more.” The agent took a breath, sighed it out. “Truthfully, Mr. Mukherjee, the two of us don’t know anything more. We’re transport; that’s all.”

Dev nodded and stepped around the desk toward them. Charlie looked alarmed. “What is this? Dev, you don’t have to go with these guys!”

“I know.” He smiled reassuringly. “But I think I want to. I will call you and Mary tonight, to let you know that everything is okay.”

“You’d better.” Charlie looked on with concern as the three men started for the elevators, the two visitors flanking his friend. “If I don’t hear from you, I’ll.…” He broke off.

What would he do?, Charlie wondered. Notify the media? He’d likely lose his position, or at least risk a demotion. He wasn’t in Dev’s place. Unlike Mukherjee, he had a wife and three kids. Dev wasn’t married. As far as Charlie knew, he didn’t even have a steady girlfriend. A myriad of thoughts whirlpooled in his head.

Did that lack of extant intimate relationships have anything to do, perhaps, with why the two agents had taken Dev and not him?