The New Petersburg museum of modern art was a brand new and almost blinding building set on a cliff overlooking the growling blue ocean. It was entirely covered with aluminum tiles and built in a shape reminding him of 1950s flying saucers. It was actually nicknamed “The UFO.” Perfect place for a meeting, Terrence thought as he crossed the parking lot towards the entrance.
Could it been considered a coincidence? No, probably not. Thomassen had made this choice deliberately. If not coincidence, then irony. Or hint. Or symbol. Terrence shook his head and hurried on. A man thinking too much, that’s what I am. A man thinking too much.