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imagination pictured the struggling, chaotic world outside this pristine laboratory, an endangered planet filled with flawed, imperfect men and women. If they only knew, she thought triumphantly, what tomorrow brings ... !

CHAPTER THREE
    HOTEL PALAESTRO
    ROME, ITALY
    MAY 14, 1974
     
    “WELCOME TO ROME, DR. NEARY,” the man at the front desk said. “May I see some identification?”
    “Sì,” Roberta answered, fishing around in her handbag for her phony ID. Traveling under an alias no longer troubled her; she knew from experience that Seven’s advanced Beta 5 computer manufactured the best forgeries on the planet, even if the machine’s snobbish artificial intelligence had something of an attitude problem. She blithely handed over “Veronica Neary’s” passport and driver’s license.
    Isis squawked impatiently from within the plastic carrying case at Roberta’s feet. The cat’s indignant outburst reached the ears of the hotel clerk, who leaned over the edge of the counter to check out Roberta’s belongings. Amber eyes stared back at him defiantly.
    “ Scusi, Doctor,” said the clerk, who spoke excellent English, “but I’m afraid the hotel does not permit pets.”
    Roberta sighed inwardly. It wasn’t my idea to bring the damn cat along, she thought. But Seven had insisted that Isis accompany Roberta to Rome, leaving the young woman to wonder who was supposed to be looking out for whom. “Maybe you can make an exception, per favore?” She slid several thousand lira in paper bills across the counter toward the clerk. “I’d really appreciate it.”
    [31] The brightly colored bills, featuring high-powered denominations with plenty of eye-catching zeroes, were quite genuine. The Beta 5 was perfectly capable of producing perfect counterfeits, of course, but she and Seven tried to use real currency wherever possible, to avoid inviting the scrutiny of the world’s various treasury departments. Fortunately, covering their expenses was no problem, since Seven’s earthly predecessors had shrewdly invested in any number of developing industries and discoveries, from Kodak to cellophane. As the sole employees of a company supposedly devoted to “encyclopedia research,” she and her taciturn boss had money to burn, which certainly came in useful at times like this.
    The clerk looked about quickly, to make sure no one was looking, then pocketed the cash. “Prego,” he said, returning his attention back to her documents. He handed them back to her along with a set of room keys. “The elevator is to the right,” he informed her. “Room 11-G.”
    Roberta nodded gratefully, then hefted both her suitcase and Isis’s carrier off the floor. She yawned, pretending to be jet-lagged from the long flight from America. In fact, she and Isis had taken the Blue Smoke Express to a deserted back alley two blocks away, but there was no need to advertise that particular detail to everyone in the hotel lobby. As far as any curious onlookers might be concerned, she was just another newly arrived delegate to the International Conference on Genetic Research and Experimentation.
    Two months of pursuing assorted useless leads had not brought her and Gary Seven any closer to solving the Mystery of the Missing Scientists. This conference was one of their few remaining hopes for locating the vanished researchers, a not-quite-last-ditch ploy entrusted to Roberta while Seven followed another line of inquiry back in the States. Let’s hope this little expedition pays off, she thought as she lugged her baggage across the lobby to the waiting elevator. Or that Seven has better luck with his investigation.
    Her mission in Rome was twofold: keep a sharp eye out for any of the absent geneticists who might be tempted to attend the conference, while simultaneously presenting a likely target to whomever was [32] responsible for the scientists’ disappearances. Just call me bait, she thought, a role she was all too familiar with from prior