One of Omar’s assistants cut dared cut in to the conversation, “Dr. Nehru?”

Both Omar and Lori shouted with dueling aggravation, “What?”

The man held a phone. “Phone call. It’s Red Rock. They say it’s an emergency.”

Omar’s cigarette dangled from his half-open mouth. As he reached for the phone his expression turned into one of dread, like a soldier’s parent receiving a phone call from the army in the middle of the night.

“Yes, this is Dr. Nehru. This is about my wife, isn’t it?” as Lori listened to his side of the conversation she found it amazing how clear and plain his English became. “When did this happen? Is she okay? Of course I will be there as quickly as possible.”

He hung up.

“Omar, what is it?”

“It’s Anita. They say she has gone mad.”

The white and black Internal Security helicopter circled the Red Rock facility on its way to the landing pad. Through the windows Omar spied the 1960s-era remains of the topside Air Force base including an old tower complete with a radar dome. The main building-constructed of sturdy but nearly featureless concrete-served as the tip of a structural iceberg.

The chopper landed with a soft thud. The rear passenger door opened a split second after the skids hit the ground. Omar hurried out with his lab coat billowing in the rotor-wind. Lori Brewer struggled to keep pace.

The Colonel who ran security at the Red Rock facility met Omar on the tree-lined path leading away from the landing pad.

“Dr. Nehru?”

As he answered, “Yes, of course,” Lori realized that no trace of Omar’s Indian accent remained. “What has happened to my wife?”

The group walked through a side door into a small lobby. Groups of workers and soldiers stood around with their eyes fixed on Omar as if he held a solution to a problem.