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justified.
    “I’m sorry if you don’t like it. I would just as soon see it left alone too, but that’s the nature of compromise. At some point in your life, when you’re not so sure that you’re right all the time, you’ll understand what I mean.”
    Mercer broke eye contact with the woman and surveyed the attentive looks of the students. They were rapt by the exchange. He smiled self-consciously, embarrassed at his long-winded soliloquy. “Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for your time and attention. Dr. Snyder has some amendments to your syllabi before class is dismissed.”
    The applause was genuine and enthusiastic as Mercer gathered the notes he never needed. Just before he turned from the lectern, he caught the eye of the young woman again. She threw him a saucy smile, as if to say round one to you, but the fight will continue.
     

Los Angeles International Airport
     
    H oward Small stepped off the Boeing with an expectancy he hadn’t felt since college. He’d spent four more days in Alaska with his cousin before returning home, and he was expected back up at the test site in a week. This short stay in Los Angeles was due to a prior commitment he could not avoid. While he was physically unimposing, just over five foot six with a slight frame and a prematurely hairless skull, the crowds at LAX seemed to open before his eager charge. Within the briefcase swinging carelessly from his hand were the final test data from the mini-mole. The information, while signifying a technological breakthrough, also represented a great deal of money. Once the patents were filed, Howard and his UCLA team were going to be wealthy. He smiled to himself as he walked along the crowded corridor.
    His buoyant mood carried him through the hassle of collecting his suitcases from the carousel, allowing him to ignore being jostled by countless others who believed that rushing the process would somehow give them an advantage getting out of the airport.
    With his valise under one arm, a case in the other, and his larger piece of luggage rolling behind him like a disobedient dog, Howard turned to the terminal’s exits and the Southern California night beyond. Had the uniformed limousine driver not chosen that moment to cough, Howard would have missed the man holding a signboard with his name on it. He approached the dark-complected chauffeur warily.
    “I’m Professor Small,” he said.
    “Ah, very good, sir,” the driver responded. “Let me assist you with your baggage.”
    “But wait.” Howard refused to give up his grip on the luggage. “I wasn’t expecting a car. Are you sure you are waiting for me?”
    “I was told to pick up a Dr. Howard Small arriving from Anchorage, Alaska.” The driver sounded like he hadn’t been in the country long.
    “Any idea who hired you?”
    “No, sir.”
    Howard laughed to himself and spoke more for his own benefit than that of the taciturn driver. His confusion had turned to delight. “Must be the guys at the lab already spending their share of our profits.”
    He turned over his two large cases and followed the driver into the night. In the glare of the airport’s loading ramp, a black limo glistened like a panther amid the battered taxis. The driver used a keyless entry system to unlock the doors, opening a rear one for Howard before securing the luggage in the trunk. The luxury vehicle glided smoothly from the curb before Howard could get himself comfortably settled in the plush interior. The inside of the car smelled of carpet cleaner and Armor All.
    “You have my address in Glendora?” Howard asked through the intercom system. The dividing screen between the two compartments of the vehicle was up and Howard could not seem to lower it.
    “Yes, sir,” came the quick response, and the intercom went dead.
    Since conversation with the Arab driver was out of the question, Howard contemplated helping himself to a drink from the minibar but realized he’d done more drinking in the past