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"Of course, Evan." Lacroix glanced at Rebecca, then keyed open the lab door. "Why don't you ask the researchers about their work on T-cells? I'm sure you'll find it fascinating."
He opened the door, and she was immediately assaulted by a jazz saxophone blaring from a portable CD boom box on the counter by the door. She'd never overhear any of his conversation. No doubt that was his intent.
She stepped into organized chaos, her back against the locked door that sealed her inside. Six men and women in white lab coats hustled around the room, wheeling carts full of test tubes into and out of refrigeration units, marking results on clipboards, shouting instructions across the room at a voice-activated laptop computer, and twirling a series of dials set into a console mounted in the wall. Gradually the activity slowed, then stopped, as one by one they noticed her presence. Finally, one of the men flipped off the CD player, plunging the room into echoing silence.
"Hi. My name's Rebecca Morgan. I'm a reporter. Mr. Lacroix is giving me a tour of your institute, and suggested I ask you about your T-cell research."
Two of the researchers traded looks of disbelief, and one woman muttered, "He suggested you ask?"
Rebecca nodded and smiled, holding her pen poised and ready. The researchers hesitated a moment longer, then stampeded her in a herd, all clamoring to tell her the details of their work.
She scribbled barely legible notes, frantically trying to keep pace with six simultaneous explanations. Gradually, she realized they were relating the details of three years of work. She tried to interrupt the stream of information and steer their conversations into an area she could use, but they ignored any question of hers not directly related to their research.
She burned to know what they thought of the extreme security measures, the hidden facility, and what seemed to be a standing order not to discuss their work with outsiders. Other than increasing the number of nervous glances directed at the door behind her, her words had no effect.
Lacroix had granted her wish. He'd given her time alone with a roomful of his researchers. And yet, they told her nothing she wanted to know, other than confirming by their silence that Lacroix had prevented them from publishing articles or otherwise telling their peers about their work.
The loud buzz of the lock stilled all six conversations. Lacroix opened the door in complete silence.
Holding it open but not stepping inside, he smiled. "Thank you all for taking the time to speak to Ms. Morgan. I'm sure she still has plenty of questions, but we must continue our tour."
She thanked the grinning researchers, then joined Lacroix in the hall. The saxophone resumed its wailing lament, then the door sealed the corridor in silence.
Lacroix slanted her a knowing glance. "Did you learn anything you can use in your article?"
"Yes. I did." She'd learned that he was definitely hiding something. And that whatever he was hiding, that muscle-bound ape, Evan, was up to his shaggy eyebrows in it. She just needed to discover what it was.
Chapter 2
BY THE END of her tour, Rebecca had stopped writing. That had probably been Lacroix's intent, to bore her with the monotony and impress her with the Institute's unrelieved ordinariness. And unfortunately, she couldn't prove otherwise. Whatever secret he was hiding, it wasn't illegal drug manufacture, germ warfare experiments, or any other increasingly farfetched scenario she could propose.
She didn't even have anything newsworthy to report about the Institute itself. True, it was disguised from the outside. But inside, it was perfectly normal, although bigger than she'd expected. They'd gone up and down more stairs than she could count, and at some point must have passed through connecting passages between the basements of the various buildings. At least the confusing layout had prevented her from succumbing to another embarrassing panic attack, since she hadn't known when she was underground.
Finally, they returned to
the marble entry foyer. Her tour was almost over, and she still didn't have a story. She'd had an unheard of opportunity, and she hadn't been a good enough journalist to find out the truth of the matter. Mentally adding up the cost of tickets from Syracuse to Phoenix, the rental car, and her hotel bills, she winced at the staggering price of her failure. The other articles she'd promised to write while she was out here might cover some of the costs, but the airline tickets were coming straight out of her pocket. She had to be able to find something she could use for a story.
When Lacroix led her to a small lounge opposite the elevator, she barely looked at her surroundings. She sat down on the couch, its blue and beige tweed rasping against her stockings. Her feet burned from so much walking, and the couch pillows looked soft and inviting. It would feel so good to lie down and sleep. Sighing, she lifted her heels ever so slightly out of her shoes.
He filled two water glasses from a pitcher on the counter. Keeping one for himself, he carried the other over to where she sat and offered it to her. She recalled a fairy tale admonition not to eat or drink anything offered by her host, but dismissed the thought as a fancy born of exhaustion. Tipping back the glass, Rebecca gulped the clear water greedily. It tasted fresh and pure, and washed away the antiseptic sting in her throat.
He poised on the edge of the chair across from her.
"Did I answer all of your questions?"
"All but one." She kept fishing, even though she no longer expected to discover anything. "Why is the security so tight?"
"The scanners aren't just for security. The keycards are used to locate the researchers within the facility, as many of them have no fixed desk or work site. Also, by restricting access to labs, we can protect against accidental contagion." He smiled. "Not, of course, that such a thing would ever happen."
"What if there was a fire? Would the scientists be trapped in their labs?" She echoed his smile back at him. "Not, of course, that such a thing would ever happen."
"No. If power is disrupted to the system, all of the locks fall to the open position."
She nodded and made a few more notes. She should get back on the road and finish the drive up to Flagstaff, but it was heaven finally to be sitting down. She blinked, trying to keep her eyes from drifting shut. As soon as her feet stopped hurting, she'd leave. She could sleep when she got to a hotel.
Someone knocked on the door, and Lacroix jumped up to answer it. She thought she saw Dr. Chen outside. The two men whispered intently for a moment, then the researcher nodded and hurried away. Lacroix closed the door and turned to her with a smile.
"That was Dr. Chen. He's gotten some very encouraging preliminary results."
