The glass wall had a glass door set in a frame of polished steel, no handles either way. The marble wall to his right had a small sheet of armored glass inserted. Behind it, at the reception desk, sat the admission shrink in a white coat tainted green by four inches of glass. The man eyed him without commitment. He could not tell if the visitor was a professor or a patient. There was no difference until you sorted them out.
“I understand Dr. Kuznetsov has arrived.” Smith spoke into a hidden microphone. “Tell him that special agent Carl Smith of the FBI is here to see him.”
The man examined him in silence. Without anything to offer but empty threats, Smith knew that if the shrink chose to ignore him, he had no backing. These walls had withstood more than the gripes of an unhappy federal a
