"Hey, I'd love a chance to get inside that place." Then his eyes grew uncertain. "But are you sure you want to go back, after what seems to have happened to Kristen? You might consider waiting till we find her and--" "Ally, are you all right?" Jennifer was walking in, carrying a manila folder. "You look kind of queasy. Can I make you some tea or something?" "Thanks but not now," she said. "I'm feeling weird, but maybe I should call out to the institute and see what Van de Vliet says." "Just don't agree to do anything until we talk," Stone said. "Don't worry," she said reaching for the phone. The number for the Dorian Institute was now newly entered on her Palm Pilot and she called it. When the receptionist answered she gave her name and asked for Dr. Van de Vliet. "I was there this morning and gave a blood sample to Dr. Debra Connolly. I don't know if there's any connection, but I'm really feeling strange right now." "What do you mean by 'strange'?" the woman asked. "Can you describe how you feel exactly? He's in the lab downstairs." "That's just it I'm not sure I need to actually see him. I'd just like to talk to him." "He doesn't like to be disturbed. Unless it's something very important." "It's important enough for me to try to call him," she declared feeling herself abruptly seething. "I'm weak and dizzy. And my stomach is not in such great shape either." "What did you have for lunch?" My God, she realized she hadn't actually had any. After the disaster with Kristen, she'd been in such turmoil that she hadn't even thought about food. On the other hand, she knew what food deprivation felt like. This was something else. "I didn't have all that much lunch, but that's not the problem. Now will you please put me through?" "Let me see what I can do," she said. "I'll call down and ask him. He might be able to see you." Ally listened as the line went blank. That was when she remembered she had some smoked turkey in the office fridge. Maybe a quick sandwich was called for. While she waited, Stone was looking around the offices, taking everything in. Carrying the phone, she walked out and followed him. What, she wondered, was the place telling him about her? The meager furniture was low-slung and utilitarian, with lots of beige and dark brown. And there were several huge storage files for blueprints and designs. There also was a comfortable easy chair and lamp near a bookcase in the corner. On the table next to the chair were two British mysteries and a thick, recently written history of New York City. He walked over and picked it up. It was 760 pages long. "This your idea of reading for relaxation?" he asked, waving it at her. "I tried to get through it, but I only got up to the 1930s and then I started having a bout of acute sleeping sickness every time I picked it up."