Mira heard Nara’s name before she reached the security table.
Someone in the entrance queue had recognized her. A man turned so quickly that the woman behind him struck his heel with her bag. He pointed past the guards.
“Why is she coming in?”
Mira stopped where her escort told her to stop. Her counsel stood at her left shoulder, carrying the attendance papers where security could see them.
“The arrangement permits this appearance,” counsel said to the officer. “It doesn’t alter the conditions already recorded.”
“That isn’t what I asked,” the man said.
“No,” Mira said. “It isn’t.”
The officer moved between the queue and the table. He checked the papers, then asked the escort to wait while he contacted the desk inside. Mira watched the corridor beyond him. The summit doors were open. People she knew could walk through them with a badge and an impatient glance at the clock.
