“I’m sure he just didn’t want to go. I’d love to talk to Dr. Moretti, though. My PhD mentor knew him pretty well. So I heard some stories. Apparently he’s from this old, like, noble Italian family, right? His father, Giuseppe Moretti, was a famous politician, the mayor of some big city in Italy for many years. And Giuseppe had three sons, all born in wealth and privilege to their doting mother. Private tutors, the works. There were high expectations for all of them. One son was to go conquer the world of politics, to follow in his father’s footsteps. He’s now a cabinet member of the Italian government. The second son was to go conquer the world of finance. That son eventually worked his way to becoming a partner and managing director of Goldman Sachs. The third son was to conquer the world of ideas. The world of science. There sits the third son.”

Carmen looks over to the big table where Antonio is sampling a bottle of wine that the waiter is holding out. Sitting next to him, looking small and childish in comparison, are Norman Bennett, Karen, and Max, along with another man Carmen doesn’t recognize. Antonio is moving his hands about dramatically like he’s telling a story, gesturing, shaking his head.

“Who’s the other guy next to him?” Carmen asks.

“Oh, he’s actually from DARPA, I think.”

The man from DARPA is looking on as Karen and Norman are nodding sympathetically to whatever Antonio is saying. Then Karen is talking, looking like she’s agreeing with Antonio. The man from DARPA seems unsure but Max is the only one who is openly uncomfortable at what’s being said. He stands up, putting down his napkin, walking toward Carmen and Alex.

“Now that Dr. Moretti’s surrounded I’m probably going to miss him again,” Alex says, disappointed.

“What do you mean ‘again’?”

“ Didn’t you know? He just gave a talk at Columbia University like three weeks ago. Guess he’s been in and out of New York. I figured you’d know, it’s your alma mater.”

“He was here three weeks ago? He was in the city?”

“What? Yeah, he gave a public talk that Saturday morning. And of course, I didn’t go. What with Atif and all. What a terrible weekend.”

Carmen is shaking her head, backing away, setting down her wineglass as one hand goes to her mouth, looking over at Dr. Moretti. Alex is staring at her quizzically.

“Carmen, what’s up?”

“What? Oh, nothing . . . Nothing.”

Max is now beside them, letting air out in a great sigh, filling up his plate with cheese. He shakes his head, gestures with his toothpick over at Moretti’s table.