Twenty-FiveThe auditorium was overflowing. People crowded the aisles and spilled out into the lobby, where the oversized closed-circuit displays had been switched on. Latecomers hung over the stage apron and pressed against the big doors, which as they had been since the deadline ax fell, remained closed.
Machuzak scanned the room filled with familiar, unknown faces. Security guards, technicians, engineers, scientists. Leonard and Theresa sat in the first row, Leonard frozen at the aisle in his wheelchair, Theresa holding up a few tentative fingers. Nathaniel hadn’t seen her since their strange dinner a few weeks earlier and he’d scheduled this press conference without seeking Leonard’s approval. Slava’s wife, Nastya, had shown up and threw a friendly, forlorn glance Machuzak’s way before
