He was totally engrossed in his work. “Could I have a word?” she asked, smiling. The saccharine tone again. That wasn’t a good sign. “Sure,” Terry said. “Come with me.” She led him to a small conference room and held the door open for him. Frosty was there, sitting at one end of the conference table, a ring binder in front of him. He attempted a smile. It was a decent effort, but he didn’t quite pull it off. Pamela closed and locked the door. Terry stared at her hand on the lock, then at her. “I don’t want to be disturbed. Have a seat.” Terry sat down on the opposite side of the table from Frosty. Pamela bridged the gap by sitting at the head of the table. She smiled. She did better than Frosty, but only marginally. Terry didn’t like where this meeting was going. “Terry,” Pamela began in a frank business tone. “I would like to talk about you, us”—she indicated to herself and Frosty—“and Genavax.” “My six-month review isn’t for some time.” It was an obtuse thing to say, but he wanted to play dumb.
