Chapter Thirty-FourThe Strada Institute, Zurich, December 2001
Margherita Dumas hunched over the papers on her desk, deep in thought. Here, in the peaceful and private surroundings of her palatial office at the institute, she was free to worry if she wanted to, to panic even, without anyone prying into her innermost thoughts or witnessing what she perceived as a great weakness. She was, after all, a coldly calculating and clinical exponent of the various arts at which she'd become adept.
Medically speaking, she was of course a genius; she needed no one to tell her that. What she'd achieved so far in her career had been nothing short of breathtaking, and her expertise and talent for advancing the boundaries of her research were becoming legendary. Various research establishments around th
