Just off the plane, with two large suitcases in tow, a tired looking professor is at the front reception desk at the Watchtower. He pats down his tweed jacket, finding his wallet, shaking his head.

"Dr. Bill Foster," he repeats for the receptionist. "Yes-" he hands over his ID. "I was assured I would be added. No, no appointment. No, I'm not part of the press. My daughter-" yes he's getting a bit impatient now. It's been a long travel day from San Francisco and he's a bit old and has too much luggage.