They wheeled around to the main lobby, stepped off the segways, and cautiously approached the glass doors, which slid open as they approached. The lobby within was cool and dimly lit, a marble expanse with a reception desk set directly between the doors and a bank of lifts at the opposite end. There was no visible security, but sensors closely watched every cubic millimetre of that space. Behind the desk sat an ageless woman with porcelain skin and a sleeveless halter top in silver and gray. Her long red hair was piled up in a series of complex curves with no visible means of support.
Clair walked right up to her and said, "We'd like to talk to Anthony Wallace."
"I see." The woman was polite but unwelcoming. "Do you have an appointment?"'
"No."
"Perhaps you could tell me what this is in regard to."
That was a simple request with no simple response. When Clair hesitated Gemma provided one for her.
"There's going to be an attack on the building," Gemma said in loud tones. "Terrorists. We infiltrated the group and have all the intel. Couldn't call before now-we were being monitored-but we broke away and have come to tell you what we know."
Clair looked surprised, and so did the woman behind the desk. Her lenses flickered.
"I have advised security," she said. "Please proceed to elevator three. You will be met there."
"Thank you," said Clair. She took three paces to her right and walked around the reception desk. The woman didn't turn to watch them go.
"A little close to the truth, don't you think?" Jesse whispered.
Gemma's tone was brittle. "That's always the best kind of lie."