Page 123 of Fury In Death

“I have authorization, and can get access. Where is it?”

“It’s . . . I’ll show you.”

“Peabody, Feeney, two officers, with me.”

“I don’t know what the hell’s going on, and I’ve about had it with the lack of communication, the evasions, and the—and the bullshit!”

Moving fast, Dolbey headed down a corridor, swiped a door, moved down another. “Two of us are dead, horribly murdered, and I’m placed as acting director. But I can’t get the information and guidance I need to direct.”

She stopped at another door clearly marked RESTRICTED. AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

“I don’t know what’s in there, what work’s being done in there, or who’s doing it with both Larry and Ezra dead. I’m told Director O’Brian’s gone out of the country, but no one can tell me where or why. I’m trying to hold my section together, keep my section’s morale up, and now this.”

“Feeney, can you get that door open?”

“It’ll take a few.”

“More than a few, we get the battering ram.”

“Oh my God.”

“Dr. Dolbey, I bet you’re good at what you do.”

“I am, damn it.”

“You might want to think about being good at it in another lab.”

“Nearly there,” Feeney muttered. “They’ve got a triple on it. Got through two, third one’s coming.”

“Do you know if Jacob Wyst is in the building?”

Dobley dragged both hands through her hair. “If he is, he’s not answering my calls, my texts. I went up to his office earlier, and when his assistant said he wasn’t in his office, I got pissy enough, and I’m not proud of taking it out on her, she opened it to show me he wasn’t.”

Dolbey let out a sigh. “It’s pretty clear she’s as in the dark there as I am.”

“Got you!” Feeney straightened, rolled his shoulders. “We’re in.”

“Stick with us,” Eve told Dolbey. “We might need you to explain what we’re looking at.”

“Are you kidding? You couldn’t pry me away now.”

When they went in, it surprised Eve how small a space it was when compared to the others. It looked efficient, well-equipped, the walls, floors, counters very white, very clean. Glass-fronted cabinets, sealed, held what she assumed were chemicals, compounds. Every station—four of them—held its own screen, scope, comp.

“Pick a comp, Feeney, get us in. What do you see, Dr. Dolbey?”

“Gretta, what the hell. I see very spare, very organized, with equipment as good as it gets.” She walked over to the cabinets while Feeney set to work.

“Some of these are toxic, hazardous, dangerous. They’re sealed, yes, but they should be under lock. That’s a single-user decontamination chamber.”

She reached for a door, and when Eve nodded, opened it.

“Washroom, with shower. This tells me that no one is to leave the lab to use other facilities. Use this, into the decontamination chamber, back to work.”

“Got it,” Feeney said. “Not too slippery. I’d say they figured no one they didn’t want in here would get in here, so not too slippery.”

“Let’s see a file up on the main screen.”

“There’s a lot of them and so many look the same but have different dates. Got a red mark beside them.”