Unlocking the door to her office, Irene walked inside with Jackie following. She walked around her desk and threw herself into her office chair, feet up on the wood. Her friend sat in the chair opposite.

“Sorry about that, sweets.” Jackie sighed.

Irene blinked. “Sorry about what?”

“About what went on with Farica Bader.”

Frowning, Irene stared at her friend.

“You know,” Jackie went on, “Farica Bader? Who only moments ago insulted you?”

“Oh, yes. Her.”

“How do you do that?” Jackie asked with a smile.

“Do what?”

“Not let stuff get to you? I mean, I hate that woman.”

Irene shrugged. “Why hate her? It requires emotion that takes time out of my schedule. The Farica Baders of the world can say what they want. But in the end, they go back to their small, petty lives while people like us go on to perform for the kings and queens of Europe or produce life-changing creations. She is meaningless to us. They all are.”

Jackie gazed at her for several moments and Irene marveled at how truly beautiful Jackie was. Stunning, in fact, with almond-shaped brown eyes from her mother’s side of the family and naturally blond-brown hair from her father’s.

“I love you, Irene,” Jackie finally said.

Surprised, Irene asked, “You do?”

“Of course I do. You’re my best friend and you’re amazing. I don’t know what I would have done without you these last few years.”

“That makes two of us, my friend. But now you have Paul.”

“Yeah. I guess. But he’s been acting weird lately.”

“He’s madly in love with you and trying to figure out how to handle it. Give him a week or two.”

Jackie laughed. “That sure, are you, Dr. Conridge?”

“Of course. When am I ever wrong?”

Still laughing, Jackie stood up and headed out the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom.”

“Use the one down the other hallway. The one right here is blocked off by the construction.”

Jackie stood in the doorway, staring at the near-destroyed hallway. “When are they getting that done, anyway?”

“Not soon enough,” Irene said while booting up her computer. The chances of her returning to the cocktail party became distinctly remote as soon as her new machine powered up. “I’ve had six fights with the foreman about noise. How they expect me to get any work done with all that banging, I’ll never know.”

Jackie stepped back into the office. “Hey. This was in your inbox.” She handed Irene an envelope from the dean’s office.

“Great,” Irene muttered, afraid of another student complaint about being made to cry. Weakness. She detested weakness.

Tearing the envelope open,Irene took a quick look at the letter, took it all in, and processed it. She felt the color—what color there was—drain from her face. “Uh-oh.”

Again Jackie came back into the office. Poor thing, she couldn’t quite make it to the ladies’ room. “What’s wrong?”

“They need access to the labs next week.”

“So?” Then Jackie’s eyes narrowed. “Irene, tell me you took care of that little issue we discussed.”

“Um . . .” Irene let out a breath. “Not quite.”

“Irene!”

She held her hand up. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it tomorrow. It’s perfect. It’s Saturday. Very few students will be here and I can get them to go away if necessary.” When Jackie only glared harder, Irene continued. “I promise. All of it will be gone by tomorrow.”

“It better be.” Jackie stormed out and this time wasn’t suddenly forced to come back in.

Irene turned back to her computer, went to her C: prompt, and called up all her files on the Terminate Project. She’d foolishly kept these files, concerned she might need them later. It was hard to get rid of something one had worked so long and hard on. But now that she knew what it could do . . . Jackie was right. It all had to go. She typed in “DEL C:Project8” and hit ENTER.

Letting out a sigh that at least that much was now gone, Irene sat back in her chair, but the creak outside her door had her sitting up again. Okay. Now she was being paranoid . . . wasn’t she?

She heard another sound and Irene stood up, walking to her door. She glanced both ways but didn’t see anything. Another sound from the end of the hall that led out had Irene’s entire body tensing. She glanced around and realized she had nothing to defend herself with should it become necessary. Moving quickly, she went over to the construction supplies lying on the floor and grabbed the first thing she saw.

Slowly, she stepped closer to the construction area, trying her best to make no sound. It could be her imagination, but she sensed someone there. Behind a pack of piling. Ridiculous, of course. It had been several years since her government or any government, for that matter, had followed her. They’d begun to lose interest in her as soon as she went into teaching rather than working for some government-funded bioweapons company. Still, if someone had found out about her little creation, Irene had no doubt they’d go through their usual measures to get just a sample of it.

Irene stopped. Government agents always had guns. She had a two-by-four . . . exactly when had her legendary logic escaped her? True, she had her own homemade weapon in her backpack, but she still wouldn’t use that against a gun. No, she needed to get Jackie and go. Although it was most likely all her imagination anyway, better safe than sorry.