Dr. Stone continues to read through the Project Scoop file, while his plane sits at San Francisco International Airport. Shortly thereafter, the TWA 707 takes off, the tail lit brilliantly to show the TWA logo.
In the first class compartment, Dr. Stone looks over his shoulder to see nothing but rows of empty seats. The Air Force officer hands him a phone.
“I feel like Onassis,” says Stone.
“It was the fastest thing we could arrange, sir,” replies the officer.
“Thanks,” says Stone, taking the phone. “Yes?” he says into the phone.
“General Sparks here,” says the voice on the other side of the line. “I just wanted to inform you that all members of your team have been cleared and are now being called in – except for Professor Kirke. He’s in the hospital – – appendectomy. You’ll get complete details on everything when your team is assembled.”
In a bedroom, Mrs. Dutton drops a suitcase on an unmade bed.
“You don’t make sense!” she says. “You talk like you’ve been brainwashed.”
“You don’t understand,” says Charles Dutton, buttoning his shirt.
“The germ warfare people, Dad?” asks his daughter, bringing in a cup of tea. “A lab accident?”
“Thank you,” says Dutton, taking the tea. “It’s different this time.”
Dutton points to his wife. “Don’t pack, Clara. I won’t need anything.”
Clara Dutton looks at her husband in disbelief.