off as he saw the red priority light on his phone shining.
He pushed it and LaVerne's face faded in.

She said, "This Franklin Nostrand you wanted to know about. He's evidently
working at the laboratories over in Newport News, Larry. He'll be on the
job until five this afternoon."

"Fine," he said. Larry grinned at her. "When are we going to have that
date, LaVerne?"

She made a face. "Some day when the program involves having fun instead of
parading around in the right places, driving the right model car, dressed
in exactly the right clothes, and above all associating with the right
people."

It was his turn to grimace. "I'm beginning to think you ought to sign up
with Voss and this Movement of his. You'd be right at home with his
weirds."

She stuck out her tongue at him, and flicked off.

He looked at the empty screen and chuckled. He had half a mind to get a
record of their conversation, strip out just the section where she'd stuck
out her tongue, and then play it back to her. She'd be taken aback by
being confronted by her own image making faces at her.

As he made his way to the parking lot for his car, something in their
conversation nagged at him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He
considered the girl, all over again. She had almost all the qualities he
looked for. She was attractive, without being overly so. He disliked women
out of the ordinarily beautiful, it became too much to live up to. She was
sharp, but not objectionably so. Not to the point of giving you an
inferiority complex.

But, Holy Smokes, she'd never do as a career man's wife. He could just see
the Boss' ultraconservative better half inviting them to dinner. It would
happen exactly once, never again.

He obtained his car, lifted it to one of the higher levels and headed for
Newport News. It was a half-hour trip and he wasn't particularly expectant
of results. The tip Sam Sokolski had given him, wasn't much to go by.
Evidently, Frank Nostrand was a friend of the Professor's but that didn't
necessarily mean he was connected with the movement, or that he knew Voss'
whereabouts.

He might have saved himself the trip.

The bird had flown again. Not only was Frank Nostrand not at the Madison
Air Laboratories, but he wasn't at home either. Larry Woolford, mindful of
his departmental chief's words on the prestige these people carried, took
a full hour in acquiring a search warrant before breaking into the
Nostrand home.

Nostrand