The waiter disappeared. Nichols turned back to me. “I didn’t expect to hear from you, at least not so soon. You strike me as a cautious man, Professor. I don’t mean that disrespectfully. Caution has its place. The encounter you had in our lab would have been enough to scare off lesser men permanently.”

“How do you know it hasn’t?”

“Because you requested a meeting. Why else would that be, except to say you want to go ahead with the transplant? A wise choice, if I may say so. A very wise choice. The transplant will open up vistas of which you’ve never dreamed. That woman you witnessed at the lab—she was quite insane, you realize. I don’t know what happened to our psychological screening. An unsatisfactory candidate. Such an outcome could never happen to someone like you.”

That was true at this point, but not for the reason he gave. “No, I understand,” I replied. “I’m ready to go through with the procedure.”

“Splendid. How soon would you like it done?”

“Immediately.”

“Excellent.” He paused for a moment, apparently checking his internal calendar. “How about Tuesday at eight o’clock?”

“That would be fine. Who will do the procedure?”

“I’ll do it myself.”

The waiter appeared with our wine. I took a sip and placed my glass back on the table. I leaned forward and lowered my voice, despite what I assumed were fail-safe security safeguards. “Mr. Nichols, there is a certain matter we need to discuss.”

He placed his glass to the side. “I wondered if you were going to bring this up.”

“Agent Steele has informed Abigail about the status of her grandfather.”

He sighed. “Yes. Most unfortunate. There is, of course, nothing she can do about the matter.”

“She can inform Lauren Caldwell.”

“Lauren Caldwell knows exactly where her uncle is. It’s to her advantage that Ray’s status not change or become public knowledge.”

“What about the congressional hearings? They give Abby a public platform.”

Nichols reached for his wineglass. “I’ll handle that matter as well.”

“Without harm to Abby?”

Nichols scowled. “Professor, I’m an instigator of global transformation, not a gangster.”

“And what about Agent Steele?”

“As you probably know, Mister Steele is no longer with the FBI. What exactly can he do?”

Despite the late hour, I checked out of the hospital. There was no point in staying. My condition was static and nonthreatening, and I wasn’t having surgery. Not the kind my neurosurgeon had suggested, anyway. The hospital had provided one benefit: I didn’t have to interact with Lauren at her house. According to Abby, however, Lauren had returned to Texas until the hearings four days away. Lauren’s place suddenly held more appeal.