"Yes, ma'am," he answered, turning and taking the woman's small and elegant hand in his own. The woman was tiny and looked to be in her late fifties. Around her neck her bifocals hung from a thin, gold chain. She wore a long-skirted blue suit with a plain white blouse. Her graying-black hair was up in an old-fashioned bun with not a single hair out of place. She wore only minimal makeup, her only accessory a small American flag pin attached on her left lapel.

She smiled warmly. "Welcome to the Event Group, Major, otherwise known as Department 5656 of the federal government. I'm sure we will make your days here just as exciting as any you've had in your career."

Collins raised a brow in doubt and the woman caught the gesture. She just continued to smile and patted him on the hand, before releasing it.

Collins looked around the reception area once more. On one wall hung a massive portrait of Abraham Lincoln, a painting he had never seen before. The oil portrait depicted him sitting and reading a book, of which the title was obscured. On another wall, and a bit smaller, was a portrait of Theodore Roosevelt, complete in his hand-tailored Rough Rider uniform. Next to that was a picture of Teddy's fifth cousin, Franklin. Situated along the walls were glass-encased models of sailing vessels, ironclads, and other distinguished warships. Set back into the far wall were two huge wooden doors, each of which stood nearly fifteen feet in height, and the big brass handles gleamed in the office lights. Above the doors, in gold script engraved on a long oak plaque, was an inscription: Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it. Then below that, in smaller script: In this labyrinth lay the truth of our world, our civilization, and our culture.

"Good words, aren't they, Major?" the woman asked.

"Good, yes, a little ambiguous maybe," Collins answered, looking from the plaque to the small, smiling woman as he turned to face her.