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turtle carcass,” Anders said as the doors slowly closed. “How could I not?”
    “Have a good one,”
I repeated to the empty car. “You’re such a dork, Brennan.”
    The elevator continued to the top floor. I exited into a short hallway leading to a pair of frosted-glass doors. The director’s suite. Under Karsten, this whole area had been a ghost town. Abhorring distraction, he’d kept every office empty but his own.
    Not so, Kit. The floor now hummed with activity, every workspace occupied or held open for guest researchers. Inside the director’s suite, Kit had assembled LIRI’s business-side officers. Fund-raising. Marketing. Public Relations. Trust Management.
    I’d once asked Kit why he put up with so much distraction in his suite. “Better the pencil pushers are jammed in with me than bothering active scientists,” he reasoned. “And I want these people out here on Loggerhead, not in cozy downtown high-rises. It’ll help them remember what we’re actually doing.”
    Passing through the doors, I encountered my last obstacle: Cordelia Hoke.
    The Dragon.
    Under Karsten, Hoke had been the only other employee stationed on the fourth floor. Though less than pleased by Kit’s disruption of her once-private kingdom, she tried to keep it to herself. And usually failed.
    Hoke as Kit’s personal secretary? My guess, he was too chicken to let her go.
    Kit had tried to stop Hoke’s hourly puff break—LIRI was, and always had been, a smoke-free facility—but even
I
knew she still snuck a cig every chance she got. But that was less than under the previous regime.
    The nicotine cutback hadn’t improved the Dragon’s temperament. She glared at me over the rims of her bifocals.
    “May I help you, Tory?” Her tone suggested the opposite intent.
    “I was hoping to snag Kit for a moment.”
    “Your father’s very busy.” Hoke shifted her impressive bulk, wiping cookie crumbs from the sleeves of her ragged cashmere sweater. She had one for each day of the week. Today was violet. “He can’t come running every time you stub a toe.”
    Grrrr.
    “I’d like to speak with him about his dinner plans.”
    Blank face. No response.
    “So that I can make
my
dinner plans.”
    Nothing.
    “Look, just tell my dad I’m here.”
    Hoke’s face darkened. “Honey, in
my
day a young lady didn’t speak to her elders like that. We were taught
manners.
”
    I was about to further reduce her opinion of my upbringing when the shade to Kit’s office rose. My father stood on the opposite side of the glass, phone to ear, a bored expression on his face. His charcoal suit and maroon tie were a far cry from the scuffed white lab coat that, until this year, he’d worn every working day of his life.
    Kit made “can’t talk now, I’m tied up, please feed yourself” motions with his hands. Nodding, I waved good-bye.
    Kit shook his head ruefully, mouthed, “Sorry.”
    I gave him a thumbs-up, smiling to convey my understanding.
    Hoke cleared her throat. “Will there be anything else?”
    “Nope.” I was already headed for the door.

CHAPTER 4
    D r. Michael Iglehart strode the hall, ignoring his companion.
    Dr. Sundberg prattled on about login issues and allocating server space, but Iglehart had checked out.
    The Brennan girl rankled him. Now he had an errand to complete.
    “I can only offer runtime after hours,” Sundberg continued. “The backup is temporary—we’ll have expansion packs in place by early next month. Dr. Howard has signed orders doubling our computing capacity.”
    “Wonderful.” Choking back the bile in his throat.
    Having to ask Anders Sundberg for permission was insult enough. Needing Kit Howard’s authority was almost intolerable.
    Life is never fair. Ever.
    Iglehart had joined LIRI before either of these imbeciles. The three of them had nearly identical CVs. Now one ran his department, and the other headed the entire freaking institute!
    And why? Because Kit Howard found a treasure in some