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sequenced and the coded message can be read.”
    “And have you been approached by the government about your experiment?” asked the reporter.
    “No, there haven’t been any inquiries yet. But I did wonder if I would get the security clearance to publish the paper in the first place. This is very cutting-edge science,” said Dr. Bancroft.
    Zoovas scratched his head and chuckled.
    “Amazing,” he said, turning to Occam. “What will they think of next?”

Nine
    Dr. Christian Madison’s Office
34th Floor, Millennium Tower
Manhattan, New York
    Madison glared at the strange e-mail.
    “I really don’t have time for this,” he said, irritation flaring in his voice. He reached for the phone, intending to dial Dr. Ambergris’ extension. He halted midreach when Grace Nguyen appeared in his doorway.
    “Good morning, Christian. Quiz.”
    Her usual poise was rough at the edges. Madison noted the furrows that stress etched between Grace’s eyebrows when she was upset.
    “Good morning,” said Madison.
    “Hello, Dr. Nguyen,” said Quiz, tipping an imaginary hat.
    She smiled at Quiz. “Enough already. My name is Grace. Stop calling me Dr. Nguyen.”
    “My mother always told me it was impolite to address my elders by their first name.” He suppressed a mischievous grin.
    She raised one eyebrow.
    “Do I look ‘elder’ to you?”
    He looked her up and down. “Elder than me.”
    “Don’t make me come over there and give you a spanking, Stefan.”
    Quiz groaned. As Grace was well aware, he hated his given name. He held up his hands in mock surrender.
    Madison leaned back in his chair. “What brings you to the wrong side of the tracks?” His words had a sharp edge.
    Grace raised her deep blue eyes to meet Madison’s. Her azure irises were a genetic gift from her British father, a striking splash of color on a canvas of Asian features.
    Grace stifled a retort. Unvoiced, it was bitter on her tongue.
    “Christian, I need to talk to you,” she said.
    “Everything okay?” asked Christian.
    A pause.
    “No,” she said.
    Another pause.
    Madison took his cue to inquire. “What is it?”
    Grace shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to the other. “I think I made a mistake.”
    “How so?”
    “When I came to work this morning, there was a group of protesters outside the building. Maybe twenty or so. One of them really got under my skin. She baited me and I fell for it. I think I really overreacted.”
    “Overreacted how?” asked Madison.
    “Wait a minute,” said Quiz. “Protesters?”
    “They’re demonstrating against stem cell research,” said Grace.
    “Do we even do that?” asked Quiz.
    “No,” said Madison. “We don’t.
    “But the Biogenetics Conference is going to get a lot of press,” said Grace. “They’re probably looking for media exposure.”
    “Overreacted how?” repeated Madison.
    “I said some things I shouldn’t have.” She briefly related the encounter.
    “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” said Quiz.
    “Ordinarily, I might agree, but I think we were filmed. There was a reporter and cameraman down the street.”
    Madison shook his head slowly. The corporate suits that steered the financial course of Triad Genomics were very sensitive to bad publicity. A negative news report could have adverse effects on the stock price. Triad Genomics paid millions of dollars each year to Madison Avenue wizards to wage a public relations war against its critics and to paint a positive image of the company in the public mind.
    “If that gets aired, the board of directors will want your head. On a platter,” said Madison.
    “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said. “What do you think I should do?”
    “Why don’t you ask Dr. Ambergris?”
    “I’m asking you.”
    “You want to know what I think? I think you opened your mouth again without thinking.”
    “Christian, of all people, I thought you would understand.”
    “Look, I don’t know why you—”
    Quiz interjected.